Page 31 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
“Oh?”
“First, you must promise to read that short story,” Corin bribed, his lips twitching as Imelda’s eyes narrowed.
She could be such a stubborn thing he wouldn’t put it past her to try and argue, but something in her gaze softened as she looked at him and she nodded instead.
“But who—”
She cut off as Corin sidestepped a pair of people, pulling her with him and coming to an abrupt stop in front of a short, round man with a wispy-looking mustache and small, watery blue eyes.
“Mr. Seymour Batten,” Corin greeted, tucking Imelda’s hand into the crook of his arm as he did. “This is Miss Imelda Merrit, the author I spoke to you about the other day.”
“Lord Salthouse, Miss Merrit,” Mr. Batten’s voice was cold, the American accent unmistakable. But Corin knew that Imelda wouldn’t need to ask who he was or what purpose Corin had in introducing them. Seymour Batten was well-known as an American print mogul, even among the lowest English literary circles.
Imelda practically beamed as she bobbed her head in greeting, her tone warming considerably as she allowed herself to be shown about like she was.
Corin, his part done, could do no more than watch her, his features schooled into as much nonchalance as he could feign. There was something magical about her, about her command of the conversation and the charm with which she almost immediately won the American over.
Even his cousin Charlotte’s friend, Joanne Turberville, seemed entranced with her from a distance, her eyes as focused as Corin’s were.
Corin knew that he should be more focused on the conversation taking place in front of him. He knew he should be taking mental notes and preparing advice to give Imelda after they left…but all he could focus on was her and the fact that he would be able to pull her into his arms shortly after, in the guise of leading her into a dance.
Chapter 11
If Imelda and Spencer’s aunt had noticed that the twins were spending more time with one another than was strictly usual for them, she made no comment. Not in the days that Spencer shadowed Imelda out of the home or even when they had told her of their plans to take a day trip with Charlotte and Corin.
Maybe it was the romantic in her. Maybe it was her preoccupation with handling her husband and his upcoming play, but whatever it was, Imelda was grateful for it.
It was hard enough fielding Spencer’s endless questions about Charlotte and trying not to think about the last time she had seen Corin as it was.
It had just been a dance.
She had to remind herself as much every single time that she thought about it. He hadn’t held her any closer than decorum would allow; he hadn’t said anything untoward. She had just been flying high after being introduced to Mr. Batten, and they’d been getting along so famously.
It had just been a dance.
And if it had been his eyes that she had sought out in the crowd while she read her short story to the gathered crowd afterward, it was only because he suggested that she read it in the first place. Looking to him after everyone had erupted into applause and congratulations, again, was just to make sure that he had seen how well it was received…
And that moment before she had left when he had leaned down and plucked a wayward hair off of her cheek to brush behind her ear instead had only been him being kind. Any imagining of his wanting to kiss her from his doing so had been all in her own head and-
“She’s a vision in peach,” Spencer groaned from beside her, interrupting her mental pep talk and almost making her jump as she realized that they had reached the lake where they had agreed to meet.
“She’s a vision in anything, Spencer,” Imelda returned with a roll of her eyes as he hurried down from the gig and rushed over to help her down as well.
“I know.”
He needn’t sound so put out about it.
“You will make sure that she and I are the ones who share a boat together, will you not?” Spencer pressed, his words a hurried whisper as Corin and Charlotte caught sight of them and headed their way.
“I’ve already promised you three times that I would,” Imelda reminded him patiently. “Besides, who would row if Charlotte and I ended up stuck together?”
She was joking, but Spencer looked at her incredulously as if she were daring to suggest that it would have to be Charlotte.
He was hopeless.
The thought was almost fond as she watched him straighten, his smile a touch too wide as he greeted the other pair.
“Oh, it’s such a warm day!” Charlotte hummed as they all said their hellos, lifting her face to the sky and closing her eyes as the sun cast warm, golden beams across the bridge of her nose. “It’s lovely for this time of year!”
