Page 45 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
In the weeks after his mother had passed and their house had become a madhouse through his father’s absence and Romeo’s crying…the only reprieve that Corin ever managed to find was locked behind a door with his ears plugged and his eyes closed. Before his vows to the woman that he didn’t love but that he had promised to do right by he had sat sequestered in the church rectory. After news of Alice’s consumption broke and how advanced it already was without any of them having known he had taken to his study.
And after Imelda had so firmly told him that their one moment of happiness in the wings of the theatre could never be repeated, he took to it once more.
He lived, ate, and breathed his work. He attended to his duties, he wrote his columns, and otherwise remained to himself.
A mistake, Imelda had called it.
But no matter what she termed it, he couldn’t stop replaying that moment in his head. He couldn’t stop seeing her flushed with desire, leaning into him or feeling her fingers curve just beneath his jawline as she pulled him closer. In moments of true depravity, late at night in his dreams, he imagined what might have happened if those lights hadn’t come on and they were given even another half hour of privacy.
But he always woke as frustrated and unspent as she had left him that day. A sweaty mess of regret and wishes for what could never be.
A week later, it haunted him, clinging to his every thought like the pervasive cigar smoke that his brother favored.
“Lord Salthouse, your—”
“What is it?” Corin snapped, his head coming up from where he had held it in his hands while thinking to glare at Mr. Timmons, his butler.
“Today’s correspondence,” Mr. Timmons answered blandly, not even flinching in the face of Corin’s dark mood. “I had thought to bring it to you before you were due to take your afternoon tea.”
Corin winced, guilt filling him as his butler so staunchly dealt with his irritation.
“Apologies, Mr. Timmons.” He sighed, rubbing his palm down the front of his face as he beckoned the older man to enter with his other hand. “I appreciate your thinking of it.”
“It is my job, my lord,” Mr. Timmons murmured. He made quick work of placing Corin’s letters down on his desk, his nod peaceable as he backed back out of the room once more. The door barely dared to whisper as it shut.
“I’m an ass,” Corin muttered. And he was. A miserable, irate,aloneass.
He thumbed through the letters disinterestedly, tossing several invitations without ever opening them. Others were tossed into a stack to be looked at later. There was no motivation to actually go through any of them.
At least not until he saw the name Seymour Batten stamped upon one.
Corin broke the seal eagerly, opening the paper and running his eyes quickly over the penned correspondence.
My Lord Salthouse,
After careful consideration of the materials provided and feedback from our panel, my company has agreed to take on Miss Merrit’s current gothic novel. Provided, of course, that you agree to act as her editor. I’m sure you understand the hesitation given women’s sparse role in our industry. If Miss Merrit does indeed prove to have ‘merit’ as you have claimed, then we will be only too happy to spearhead sponsoring such talent.
Please let us know of your and Miss Merrit’s decision by no later than the end of April.
In regards,
Seymour Batten
Corin read the words again. And a third time to be sure, his excitement outweighed all thoughts of caution as he stood to rush from his desk.
***
The drive from his home to the Merrit’s estate was a short one, specifically with how fast Corin requested that he be taken there. He didn’t bother to change or freshen up before he went, clutching only the letter in his hand as he got out of his carriage to the sight of an unfamiliar team of horses off to the side.
Clearly the Merrits had company, though he didn’t think that quite required that he wait. He was in good enough standing with Sir John for impromptu visits and he doubted very much that even given their current situation, Imelda would want him to wait.
He announced himself to their butler and was led into the entryway while a maid scrambled off to announce him. Another thing that took only moments before she was motioned for he and the butler to come on back.
Corin followed them dutifully, his mind awhirl with how exactly to break the news and not much else right up until he was led into the entryway of their private dining room where the family was all sat down for a cozy luncheon…with Mr. Theodore Fellowes.
Corin’s pleasure turned to ash in his stomach as all eyes turned to him, the question in them clear.
“I’ve come to speak with Miss Merrit for a moment about a publishing deal,” Corin announced evenly after clearing his throat.
