I’m counting down to the release of my next book, and Accompaniment (The Guardian of the Opera 2) will be out in one week! The pandemic is still limiting the in-person celebrations I can do, but I’ll be posting fun quotes from the book throughout the next week, with special content on Launch Day, September 4th.
Since I can’t do an in-person launch party, I plan to create a video about the book, and do some Q&A. So this is your chance to ask any questions about the Phantom, my sequel book, how it was written…whatever you’d like to know! Add a question in a comment below, then come back next week for the video – and, of course, the new book. And don’t forget, you can already pre-order Accompaniment on Kindle.
For today, here’s an excerpt from Accompaniment, Chapter Two. Enjoy!
I was desperately nervous by the time the performance curtain closed Saturday evening. I wished I could change out of my ballet outfit before going to Box Five, only I didn’t dare take the time. I’d have to go to the ballet’s shared changing room, which would be a madhouse right after a performance, and I’d probably get caught by someone in conversation, and then I’d have to come all the way back to the auditorium, and by then he might have vanished. Plus I only had forty-five minutes before Mother would contact the army and the navy and who knew what else.
So I just threw my blue cloak on over my white ballet skirt and tried to look at it logically. If he had been paying any attention at all, he’d already seen me in this outfit countless times. We girls ran around the Opera in our dance costumes all the time.
I separated from the other girls as we streamed out of the auditorium, and made my way to the hall outside the first-level boxes. It was busy with guests, departing or making their way to the Foyers. I glanced at one woman’s long silk dress with a twinge of envy. Even if I’d had time to change into my nicest dress, it wasn’t that nice.
Never mind—he knew I was a dancer, so why shouldn’t I be dressed like one?
No one seemed to be watching me, but I still had to force myself not to be furtive as I opened the door to Box Five. Guests would find no significance in Box Five, and all the Company knew my mother was boxkeeper here; as long as I didn’t act suspicious, no one else would be. Inside, the box was dimly lit by one low gaslight, curtains drawn, and I leaned against the closed wooden door as my eyes adjusted.
I could see a silhouette in one of the front row seats, and my heart pounded harder.
“You actually came,” he remarked, nothing in his tone to indicate how he felt about it.