Page 30 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
It was hardly the advice he wanted to offer his younger cousin on such matters. The thought of anyone with Charlotte seemed far-fetched only because he had always thought her too good for any man he had met. But she was right, his family alone spoke highly to the chance of his character being equally as worthy.
And it didn’t hurt that he couldn’t stop himself from approaching Imelda the moment that he saw her.
She was a vision in a deep emerald dress that set off the hue of her eyes, her hair gracefully clipped up around her head so that her neck was on full display like he so very rarely saw it. He couldn’t help but allow his eyes to move over the curves of her neck, a deep-seated hunger filling his belly as he did.
My god, but what she did to him. Even after all of these years.
Charlotte did all of the greeting as Corin mindlessly hummed and murmured his way through them, his eyes full of Imelda and the soft pink blush staining her cheeks as she caught him staring. He barely registered Sir John inviting them all to move in toward the reading area together, one hand shooting out to delay Imelda just mindlessly wandering off with them.
“A moment, please,” he begged of her, nodding to her uncle and brother as they glanced their way before moving on.
“Was there a problem with the writing?” Imelda asked quickly as soon as everyone else had moved out of earshot, her green eyes dancing with concern.
Corin wondered how many times he was going to think about kicking himself in one evening. He had been too preoccupied of late. Things slipped his mind at a much greater rate than he tended to allow.
“No, nothing—that is to say, what I have read so far I have thoroughly enjoyed.” And he had, unsurprisingly. He hadn’t been lying. She only needed help with editing and polishing. Somewhere in the background, music picked up and Corin knew that his aunt was encouraging dancing before the reading. He didn’t even need to hear her imperious tones commanding people to do so to know it was happening.
“Oh…” Imelda looked faintly surprised. “Thank you.”
“I wanted to encourage you to read that short story you showed me the other day.The Robin’s Folly. When the reading starts. I don’t think that needed any fine-tuning at all and I think it will go spectacularly with what I know my aunt is having read as well.”
Imelda looked down, her expression torn, and Corin could practically feel the indecision emanating in waves off of her.
“Your mother loved robins, didn’t she?” he asked suddenly, fighting the urge to reach forward and run his finger under her chin to raise her eyes once more. He remembered her mother saying something about them; he thought the sad poignancy in that short story had spoken something of that grief they’d only briefly touched on the other afternoon. “Just pretend that you are reading it to her and her alone.”
“How did you know?” Imelda asked softly, confirming Corin’s theory as she finally looked up. The green ribbons that danced through her hazel eyes captivated him, holding him to the spot as he fought the flurry of words that he wanted to say.
Because he knew her. Because even after all of these years apart there was a bond between them that duty, time, nor artificial politeness could rip asunder.
It was as if she read the words in his gaze alone, her lips parting as she leaned just slightly forward. “Corin…”
“Miss Merrit!”
Like ice water down both of their backs, Theodore Fellowes’ voice forced them apart as surely as any reprimand might have despite the fact that it so clearly wasn’t one.
Corin disliked him immensely.
He had no real reason to. The man’s eyes were too close together, his hair too combed and fluffed, but other than the dandy appearance that he gave off, there was nothing more than his interest in Imelda to irritate him so thoroughly, and yet he did.
“Miss Merrit, I heard that there is a bit of dancing to be starting. I was hoping that you might honor me with your first dance.” Mr. Fellowes smiled charmingly, his eyes twinkling merrily as he pompously held out his hand as if expecting the affirmative that Imelda had so clearly not given.
“I—” Imelda cut off, looking between Mr. Fellowes’ hand and Corin awkwardly, her cheeks pinkening as she did. “Lord Salthouse had just—”
“I had just informed her that I had someone who I wanted to introduce her to,” Corin cut in soundly, his polite smile nothing more than a farce. It was only half a lie at best. “And begged her first dance after in return for doing so. Very uncouth of me, I’m sure, which I’m also certain she’s too polite to just come out and say.”
Imelda sold the tale even further by her blush deepening, but Mr. Fellowes was who Corin stared at, daring him with his eyes to disagree or make a complaint.
“Your second dance then,” the actor rejoined, his smile barely slipping on his lips as he shrugged off Corin’s answer.
It really shouldn’t have deepened Corin’s dislike for the man.
“Of course,” Imelda agreed prettily, dipping her head slightly.
“Wonderful,” Corin deadpanned, taking Imelda’s arm and steering her away from Mr. Fellowes without another word. He didn’t like the way that the actor looked at Imelda or that faint gleam of possession that glimmered within the man’s eyes as he did, either.
“You didn’t have to make up the bit about introducing me to anyone,” Imelda chided, though not with any real irritation.
Corin snorted. “I didn’t make up that bit,” he admitted. “I do have someone to introduce you to, I just hadn’t gotten around to saying as much yet.” He was steering them in that very direction even as he spoke.
