Manchester Lake by Joshua Ian

Author:Joshua Ian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: selkie, shifter, edwardian, paranormal romance, victorian
Publisher: Moody Boxfan Books
Published: 2021-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Paris, 1907

The conversation of the crowd was like a sea of noise below. It was similar to standing in the train station waiting for an approaching train. Everyone felt the need to say all they could say before the signal ended their chance, as if, not long after they would not have all the time they needed to speak again. Here, too, they rushed to share all the details they possessed about what was about to happen, all the bits of gossip that had flown around—about those involved in the happening and those who spread the rumors. They exclaimed at a friend unseen in months, boasted as to who had been here last recently and judged those who never came. The opera house was alive with chatter, and Monty loved looking down at the wash of people. Here, unlike the train station with its drab traveling clothes and sad overtones of goodbye, the crowd was awash in color and buoyed by cheerful expectation. All the best silks flashed vibrant in their gowns and waistcoats, the earrings and necklaces and tiaras and cufflinks glistened more brightly than the chandeliers that lit them. Seeing the crowd proved almost as magical as anything that might happen onstage.

“I’m not sure which you enjoy more, the opera or the opera goers,” said Trevor, amused.

Monty leaned back from the edge of their box and into his seat. He smiled at his lover.

“It’s true,” he said. “It’s still very new and magical for me, I suppose. These kinds of experiences were rare for me as a child.”

“Had they not been, you might have grown bored of them very early in life.”

Monty frowned. “Is it too awful to sit through another? I appreciate you coming, I know how little you care for it.”

“Not at all. I find your enthusiasm more than charming. And I wanted a chance to experience this with you one time.”

“We'll have plenty of chances back home as well. Bishop has a reserved box he hardly ever uses. And I plan to keep his seat warm for him.”

Trevor gave him a look then, at once warm yet somehow distant. As a photographer might study the composition of a family portrait.

“Yes, of course,” Trevor said. “Did you bring the new opera glasses I got for you?”

“Of course,” Monty exclaimed.

They folded up quite small and he had stashed them in the interior pocket of his jacket. He retrieved them now and held them to his face, scanning various parts of the opera house to test their magnification.

Scanning directly across from their box, on the opposite side, he came to a stop.

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

“Is something the matter? Don’t they work correctly?”

“Oh, no, the glasses are fine. But it's Bishop.”

“Bishop?”

“Yes, in the box across from us, just to the left. That’s very odd. I mentioned to him that we were coming earlier this week, and he said nothing.”

Monty was surprised. Even when Trevor came along to the theatre, if Bishop was interested they always sat together. Why would he have avoided them tonight? But then he saw what he thought was the answer.

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