I rose, and with a final goodbye squeeze, I whipped the shoe at them, satin ribbons rippling behind it. It struck the face of a pursuer and crumpled in the street. The sloshed assailant stumbled back, bracing for an unseen attacker in the darkness beyond the streetlamp’s reach, then lurched off. The others hesitated, and in that brief uncertainty, the blue wraith slipped into the safety of the shadows.

I sank hard onto the stair landing and exhaled, trembling as I shoved hair off my face. Drunk as they were, it hadn’t taken much to scare them off—just one of the enchanted red shoes. I slipped the other one off and clutched it close, then stole back inside to the forgotten old materials room, where I could be alone until I’d collected myself.

I pressed my face to the window glass, half afraid to see, but no one moved about in the alley. Only the strains of the Nymphes des Bois sounded from the ballet performance in the main auditorium, all the familiar sights and creaks of the old theater surrounding me, and my tension began to unspool.

The rest of London may have forgotten about this old room hidden away in the theater’s side wing, with its dust-laden crystal chandeliers lying on their sides and silk faille draped over painted wooden clouds, but to me it was a sanctuary. A haven for my own private dances.

But there were footsteps in the corridor, echoing over hard flooring outside the room. Heart fluttering like a million trapped butterflies, I leaped behind a silk-draped ladder and crouched, barely daring to breathe. The door squealed open and there he was, filling the doorway, filling the room, his crepe de chine cape fluttering against his solid frame.

I didn’t know anything about men. I seldom spoke to them. His presence here in my private sanctuary was unsettling.

He strode in like a lion, glancing about for his prey. Awed at my close proximity to him, I looked into his magnificent face from the shadows, the sculpted and dimpled features highlighted in the dim light. The grease paint tried to cover the ruddy glow of his skin, disguise the deep vibrancy of his expression, but it could only do so much. He moved on, then turned back, his roving gaze resting on me cowering like a little fool behind that ladder. I hadn’t any idea what one was supposed to do with oneself in such a moment. Should I go to him? Smile and make introductions? How vulgar.

Well, I was in a theater just now. The rules were a bit different here.

He moved the silk aside like a curtain and smiled down at me. I wasn’t prepared for the glorious sunshine that radiated from his masculine features. I rose, eyes still on him. Merciful heavens.