The knowledge that Gansey had no one romantic in his life made Laurent's heart swell with relief. No one depending upon him, then. That assuaged Laurent's guilt. The parents and sister would miss him, but that was not the same as a wife and children.
He was entranced by that glow. When he'd seen Gansey before in the opera house, he'd seen handsome figures and a charming smile, and he'd attributed them to a sense of entitlement as the young nobleman had invaded his passageways and conquered his puzzles. Now he saw that they belonged to a sense of wonder.
He knew, also, that Gansey was innocent. At least as it related to the residents of the opera house. It was something on which Laurent kept a close watch. No one under his protection would be harassed or abused.
Most of that sort of trouble could be easily defused. A midnight appearance in one of the Phantom's more dreadful countenances and a stern warning was more than enough to keep most of the handsy stage hands and tenors on their best behavior, and rumors traveled quickly to enforce such things. Sometimes the rumors got a bit warped--the Opera Ghost disapproves of any shows of love or intimacy!--but overall it kept the more vulnerable members of the opera company safe.
There had been two instances where mere ghostly warnings had not been adequate. The first had been when a drunken and belligerent baritone had raped one of the chorus girls. Laurent had castrated him. He'd died two days later, under medical care and in considerable pain.
The second instance had involved a wealthy count infatuated with one of the singers. He had paid the opera managers a considerable sum to arrange for a private tryst with her. Afterward, the young woman had wept for a week.
Laurent could count on one hand the amount of times he had gone aboveground since he had entered the Phantom's lair.
He had killed the count, quietly, so that it wouldn't trace back to the opera house. And he had left a note, also quietly, for the opera managers. After that, they were very careful about protecting the people in their care.
"After we eat," Laurent said, "I'll take you to see the library."
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He was entranced by that glow. When he'd seen Gansey before in the opera house, he'd seen handsome figures and a charming smile, and he'd attributed them to a sense of entitlement as the young nobleman had invaded his passageways and conquered his puzzles. Now he saw that they belonged to a sense of wonder.
He knew, also, that Gansey was innocent. At least as it related to the residents of the opera house. It was something on which Laurent kept a close watch. No one under his protection would be harassed or abused.
Most of that sort of trouble could be easily defused. A midnight appearance in one of the Phantom's more dreadful countenances and a stern warning was more than enough to keep most of the handsy stage hands and tenors on their best behavior, and rumors traveled quickly to enforce such things. Sometimes the rumors got a bit warped--the Opera Ghost disapproves of any shows of love or intimacy!--but overall it kept the more vulnerable members of the opera company safe.
There had been two instances where mere ghostly warnings had not been adequate. The first had been when a drunken and belligerent baritone had raped one of the chorus girls. Laurent had castrated him. He'd died two days later, under medical care and in considerable pain.
The second instance had involved a wealthy count infatuated with one of the singers. He had paid the opera managers a considerable sum to arrange for a private tryst with her. Afterward, the young woman had wept for a week.
Laurent could count on one hand the amount of times he had gone aboveground since he had entered the Phantom's lair.
He had killed the count, quietly, so that it wouldn't trace back to the opera house. And he had left a note, also quietly, for the opera managers. After that, they were very careful about protecting the people in their care.
"After we eat," Laurent said, "I'll take you to see the library."