reviewsbyerin

Welcome to the blog hop for Sung in the Shadows by Crystal Caudill! Read the opening of this exciting historical romantic suspense book below, and be sure to click the button at the bottom to continue reading and enter to win signed copies of both books in The Art of Love and Danger series.

Chapter One
New York City Opera House
March 1869

The opening strains of Don Giovanni danced down the opera house hall and through the closed greenroom door, taunting Eleonora Brisbane as she tossed the crumpled playbill. It wasn’t fair. She should be in the audience like a true and proper lady, watching Mum perform the role of Donna Anna, not here in this stupid parlor for actors. Even watching from the wings with Father would be better than this. But no. That grumpy rat of a manager insisted an opera house was no place for an eleven-year-old, no matter if her mum was the famed soprano, Constanza Brisbane.

“My patrons would be appalled to sit next to a child.” Eleonora tucked her chin and mimicked his scowl and pompous voice to her doll, Molly. “They come here for an evening of refinement and entertainment, not a squirming brat who wouldn’t know a flat note from a sharp. I don’t care how prettily you have her dressed. She cannot attend.”

Bah! Mr. Louse had to be one of those blathering idiots Father complained about. She probably knew more about music and opera than Mr. Louse did. He likely hadn’t grown up walking in the wings, but she had. And Mum was training her to become a great opera singer just like her.

Eleonora stroked Molly’s matching blue silk taffeta gown. “We got all fancy for nothing.”

An annoying hairpin poked her scalp, and she yanked it out. What did it matter if her hair fell down now? No one else would see it anyway.

“Sorry, Molly.” She jabbed the two-prong hairpin into Molly’s hair and soft body.

The door opened and a man with a beard that looked like a bad toupee glued to the wrong place stuck his head into the room.

“Ah, there you are.” He smiled and stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him. “You must be Constanza’s daughter, Eleonora Brisbane. Am I correct?”

Oh! She recognized that accent. “Are you from England, like Mum?”
“Yes. She and I performed together a long time ago.” His face pinched like he was angry, but then he fixed it. His mum must have made him learn to keep a blank face too. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. You look exactly like your mother.”

He must have bad eyes. Mum had beautiful, deep red hair. Eleonora’s was an ugly carrot orange with crazy root hairs sticking out every which way. But Mum had taught her to never disagree with a compliment.
She rose from the floor, tucking Molly under her arm, and curtsied.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” Her nose scrunched before she remembered to mind her face and tone.

“You are to return with me to the hotel.” “But I was told I could stay here.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that. If you come along without a fuss, I shall give you first pick of the sweets I have waiting in the hack.

She didn’t care about any candy. At least here she could listen to the music and Mum would visit her during intermission.

“I want to talk to Father.” He’d fight to keep her here.

“He’s the one who decided you should go. I doubt he’ll change his mind just because you throw a temper tantrum.”

That wasn’t right. She never stayed at the hotel without Mum and Father. They said it was too dangerous . . . that someone might want to take her.
She looked at the man again as he laid a paper on the table. Mum had never mentioned a friend being here, and she hadn’t ever talked about anyone else from England. And that beard had to be fake. People didn’t wear fake beards unless they were acting. “Who are you?” He grabbed her cloak off the arm of the settee and swung it around her shoulders. “I told you, a former friend of your mother’s. Now it’s time for us to leave.”

“No.” She pulled away, but he held firm to her cloak. “I want Father. You’ll get him, or I’ll scream.”

He squinted at her, and she drew in a breath to prove she would. “Of course. I’ll summon him now.” He released her and strode to the door, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he stood with his back to her doing something she couldn’t see.

Something wasn’t right. She may only be eleven, but she was familiar enough with operas to recognize a villain when she saw one. Whoever he was, he had no intention of going to Father. Should she scream now? Or should she look for something to hit him with? There wasn’t much in this room. The performers came in here to relax and practice lines, but they hadn’t left any props behind.

When he turned, his fake beard dangled from one side, allowing full view of a smirk the devil would be proud of. She should run or scream, but all she could do was suffer the shiver that chased down her back.
He stalked toward her with a handkerchief in his hand. “I’d hoped you’d come along easily, but I’ve waited too long for my revenge.”
He lunged for her.

She shrieked but didn’t move fast enough.

One arm wrapped around her waist, and he lifted her while clamping the damp handkerchief over her mouth and nose. The sweet smell turned her stomach and made her head buzz. She scratched and kicked but couldn’t get a breath to scream. Blackness shrank her world, then her arms and legs stopped obeying. Soon, even his devil grin faded away.