Page 22 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Spencer offered quickly.
The grandfather clock at the other end of the room went off, interrupting
Imelda’s bumbling plans and announcing the hour. Miss Tuberville jumped a little, her eyes flying to the clock face with a grimace.
“Oh, drat it.” Miss Tuberville colored quickly at her outburst, looking apologetic on several fronts as she covered her lips. “My apologies. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten, and I promised my father that I would be back in time to help him restock shelves before morning.”
“I’m sure my mother will be worrying as well,” Lady Charlotte superimposed quickly, quick as always, to set the other girl more at ease. “I’ll give you a lift on my way home if you’d like.”
“We don’t mind sending a carriage otherwise,” Spencer cut in, offering both ladies a smile.
Imelda knew that he would have offered it regardless, but she didn’t miss her brother’s bald attempts at being seen as gentlemanly either.
“Nonsense,” Charlotte declared with a shake of her head. “I’ll take her home. My driver won’t mind a bit. It’s practically on the way!”
Imelda knew it was anything but. She’d have to drive a good ten minutes out of it, rather, to get Miss Tuberville home. But, as always, Charlotte was the epitome of kindness and good manners. Imelda really did understand why Spencer was so taken with her. As pretty as she was and that nice on top of it. She could do far worse when it came to getting a sister-in-law.
“I’ll call on you sometime tomorrow,” Imelda promised Lady Charlotte, smoothing her skirts out as she stood. “And Miss Tuberville, you really must let me read the next installment of your story!”
“Nothing that will be published, I’m sure,” Miss Tuberville said lightly, a note Imelda didn’t quite recognize in her tone.
“And we’ll have to settle on plans for that behind-the-scenes play!” Charlotte included both Spencer and Imelda in her smile as she walked ahead of them toward the door.
Spencer trailed after her, his eyes only on her, and Imelda hid a smile as she nodded politely.
“Carry my regards to your mother, dear Charlotte,” Lady Merrit called after them, not rising from her seat by the fire.
It was all murmurs of goodbye and assent from there, politeness and decorum overtaking all of them up to the very moment that the door closed behind the two girls.
“I say,” Spencer declared, barely giving the two girls time to walk away from the door on the other side. “That went rather splendidly, didn’t it?”
He looked so hopeful that Imelda didn’t dare disagree with him, smiling slightly as she shook her head in bewilderment at the smitten expression on his face.
“I tried my best,” she answered instead of any real affirmative, her amusement leaking into her words. “Does this mean that you will help me in return tomorrow? I did have a request…”
Spencer nodded happily before his skepticism got the best of him, his eyes swinging to her with the barest hint of suspicion. “What is it that you require of me tomorrow, dear sister?”
Imelda sighed. Her own pettiness and Miss Tuberville’s commentary on publishing had pushed her into finally making up her mind. No matter how much she detested what she had settled on she knew that she needed to be smart about her decision and not let emotion rule her.
“You must swear yourself to secrecy first, Spencer. I mean it.” Imelda narrowed her eyes, staring down her nose at him in that way that their mother had used on them successfully for so many years.
Spencer’s eyes widened, his expression growing somewhat troubled as it did.
“Just what is it that you would have me do, Mel? When you say it like that…”
Imelda smiled, though the expression was somewhat forced. “I need you to drive me to C—Lord Salthouse’s house tomorrow. I don’t want to ask a driver again and have our aunt and uncle know. I’d rather keep this business to myself for now.”
Spencer eyed her dubiously before nodding slowly. “All right, Mel. So long as it’s on the up and up.”
Imelda wasn’t so sure about the truth of that, but she knew that she needed to be.
She couldn’t afford to let the same emotions rule her from before. She couldn’t afford emotion at all. Like it or not, she needed Corin. She would be a fool to refuse his offer. She was also, she knew, just a fool for feeling any way at all toward him after what all he had already put him through.
Chapter 8
March 1818
Sybille Langford had always been a beautiful woman. Corin knew that was nine-tenths of what had drawn Romeo to her in the first place. She was tall and slender with hair of such a pale gold that it could almost be white in some lights. Her eyes were a particular shade of violet and her features the soft sort of romantic that inspired odes and ballads.
