Page 21 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
Erica and Alphonso both muttered polite nothings as they were pulled away by waiting fans, but Theodore Fellowes locked eyes with Imelda, the shocking blue of them deepening as he steppedawayfrom his surrounding fans to take her hand gallantly in his own.
“Miss Merrit,” he greeted her warmly, his voice like truffle oil over butter. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Sir John laughed, his eyes twinkling at the obvious charm, but Imelda could see Corin stiffen out of the corner of her gaze. And it was really the only excuse she had for how warmly she smiled back at Mr. Fellowes, her gaze more flirtatious than she otherwise might have used.
“The pleasure is all mine,” she assured him prettily. “Your presence on stage wasn’t to be missed.”
Though, admittedly, it had fallen short of greatness.
And she hated even more that she was using Corin’s words in her own mind while flirting so outrageously with the actor in front of her.
Corin’s severe frown made it all worthwhile, though.
“Are you staying to enjoy the festivities afterward with us, Imelda dear?” Sir John asked, oblivious to the tension around him. He was still flushed with pride from the play, his grin all-encompassing as he winked over at Lady Charlotte.
“While it’s a lovely offer,” Imelda hedged, “I was hoping to invite Lady Charlotte and Miss Tuberville back home with me to discuss the evening. We can hardly be so forthright with the actors and you surrounding us, can we?”
She had been intending such a thing from the beginning, though not with so hasty of an exit before she’d considered Corin’s presence there. She’d already arranged with Spencer to be waiting for them there so that she could fulfill her end of their bargain.
Imelda didn’t look at Corin even once more as Theodore professed his disappointment, and the ladies laughed. She didn’t make eye contact as her uncle kissed her cheeks, nor even as Charlotte moved aside to go and say her personal goodbyes to him. She didn’t even allow herself to look out of the corner of her gaze as they left.
He was married.
She wasn’t sure she could avoid speaking to him if she did. And she needed to focus her mind on other matters.
He was married.He was married.He was married.
Oh, Lord, she needed to remember that he was married.
Andnotremember how it felt to be pressed to him as he twirled her around a room, his fingers making lazy circles on the small of her back to drive her crazy as he did.
***
“And did you enjoy it, Lady Charlotte?” Spencer asked, some half an hour later as they respectively lounged around the sitting room, tea, and biscuits unscrupulously doled out among them.
Lady Merrit, where she sat mostly observing them, bit back a small, sly smile at her nephew’s obviousness, but both Lady Charlotte and Lady Tuberville both seemed to be oblivious to it.
“I did,” Lady Charlotte admitted, biting daintily into her biscuit. She smiled, tilting her head as if considering her words while she chewed. “I think that your uncle is making a mistake in not putting someone as charming and handsome as Mr. Fellowes more center stage, but…” She laughed, shrugging.
Imelda winced at the disappointment on her brother’s features.
“I think it is because Mr. Fellowes doesn’t quite have the ability of everyone else on the stage,” she cut in, trying to soothe her brother’s ego. “Besides, he’s very fair for your taste, isn’t he?”
Oh, that was a disastrous comment. Imelda didn’t know what Charlotte’s type was. She was just hoping to discourage her from noticing the actor and somehow fulfill her promise of getting her to look at Spencer instead.
Lady Charlotte’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “He’s very fair, yes,” she said with a giggle. “I don’t believe it’s quite polite to talk about my ‘type’ in mixed company. My mother would urge me to say something poetic about how the strength of a man’s character shines more beautifully than any passing looks.”
Lady Merrit laughed at that as well.
“He’s hardly too fair for my tastes.” Lady Tuberville giggled. The giggle died down as she paused, though. “Not that it would matter. He hardly had eyes for anyone but Miss Merrit.”
Spencer frowned at that and Imelda colored under her aunt’s assessing eye. She hated to think how she’d flirted with him just to make Corin jealous. If he had even been jealous. It was arrogant of her to assume that had been his emotion.
“Spencer likes plays, too, you know, even if he only rarely attends them,” Imelda commented artlessly, trying to draw the attention back to him. “Lady Charlotte, perhaps you’d like to go with us for a backstage look into the play process sometime soon?”
Spencer’s ears reddened, but Charlotte smiled readily.
“That would be lovely, actually. If Mr. Merrit doesn’t mind escorting us, of course.”
