Page 51 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
He had done his best to avoid being around Imelda at all since her father had made the announcement that he had, sending any correspondence for her book to her through the mail or her brother via Charlotte.
“Are you even listening to me, boy?” Old Lady Tarrington asked suddenly, pulling Corrin’s attention back to the conversation he had been distracted from.
“My deepest apologies Lady Tarrington, I thought that I saw my aunt gesturing me over. My mistake. You were just telling me about your late husband’s issue with Parliament, were you not?” Corin bowed his head, trying to look aggrieved, but the older lady only frowned at him.
“I was telling you about Winston’s stomach troubles.” She sniffed sharply.
Winston?
“Ah.” Corin cleared his throat. “I see. And Winston is?” He trailed off, thinking frantically over whether or not he had been paying any sort of attention before when she had used that name.
He took too long, though.
Lady Tarrington huffed, her rheumy eyes narrowing as she lifted her chin with an irritated snap of her fan before her. “Winston is my dog.” She didn’t bother mincing any further words, storming off with her head held high and her closed fan waving as if she had forgotten that she had closed it.
Corin sighed, only just keeping from running his hand down his face as he turned and finally looked back into the crowd at the front of the gardens. It seemed his aunt and Charlotte had quickly absconded with Imelda, pulling her to their group of literary friends.
The rest of her family, however, was still mingling near the steps of the garden. All around them, the sky began to darken, servants slowly winding through the gathered guests to begin lighting lanterns that emitted a pale, soft glow. Corin knew his aunt had set the scene for romance.
It only turned his stomach further.
The last thing he wanted or needed to be considering was romance.
Determinedly, he set off toward Sir John, weaving through and avoiding all the matchmaking mamas with a familiar ease until he could reach the man’s side.
“Ah, Lord Salthouse!” Sir John’s already red cheeks widened as he grinned in greeting. “I was wondering if you would be able to escape that old crone’s clutches. She looked a fright tonight.”
“John!” Lady Merrit hissed, though her eyes twinkled with amusement as she slapped at her husband’s arm. “Anyone could hear you!”
“Well, that sounds like their problem then, doesn’t it?” Sir John asked with a chuckle. “I believe I was only addressing Lord Salthouse here. Anyone who wishes to eavesdrop does so at their own risk.”
Despite all of his mental preoccupation and ill mood over the last week, Corin couldn’t help but for his lips to twitch at that sentiment.
“I’m afraid I’m the one who put Lady Tarrington in such a foul state,” Corin confided as he took a glass of champagne from one of the passing servants. “She was actually in fine form before I was so rude to her.”
Sir John snorted in disbelief, but Corin’s honesty and grace earned him a wide grin from Lady Merrit all the same.
“Foul or not foul,” Sir John waved his hand as if to dismiss the very talk of the older woman. “I read over your notes on the integrations I’ve made for the play. A damned fine eye you have for details, surely, although I haven’t quite settled on how to incorporate all of it.”
“Ah, straight to business,” Lady Merrit murmured, again seemingly more amused than anything else.
That very fact, business, was the exact reason Corin had wandered over in this particular direction. Any distraction from his own thoughts. Though, admittedly, he did also have other motives as well.
“I’m glad. I have to admit, I’m surprised you chose to give Mr. Fellowes the leading role.” Damn it all to hell; he’d meant to ease more into that topic, but his mouth ran away with him before better sense could reign. “I had heard that Augustus Thiebald was looking for work.”
For a moment, Sir John looked slightly pained. Everyone in the industry knew how talented Augustus was in his craft. But only for a moment. His ready grin was quick to return as he shrugged.
“Yes, well, Augustus Thiebald has no ties to my niece, unlike Theodore. Keeping him close at hand and bolstering his career when things seem so promising there seems to be like the thing to do, does it not?” He chuckled as he took a drink. “Although some might call it nepotism.”
His wife grinned, leaning into him as she placed her hand on his forearm. “He’d have to already be married into the family for that to apply, dear.”
“See! Devious mind that my wife has, that’s what keeps me in line.”
Their repertoire was quick and easy, a genuine fondness and joy in the way that they teased one another back and forth. Corin had always enjoyed watching them together. He didn’t know if it was his own bitterness over his personal affairs or the subject matter that turned his stomach more.
“Well, let us hope that he rises to the occasion then,” Corin murmured. He lifted his glass as if to toast, forcing a polite smile onto his lips despite the way that he wished he could spit out the words.
Only Lady Merrit seemed to notice that he wasn’t being quite genuine, though, side-eying him as she did before lifting her glass in a toast with both he and her husband.
