Page 13 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
Corin didn’t like doors closing. Metaphorically or physically. It always felt like too final of a decision, and no matter how much he might disagree with such a decision, his first response was always to walk away from such a thing.
He didn’t know why.
Maybe it stemmed from the loss of his mother. There hadn’t ever really been closed doors in his house growing up until she had died. If he really stopped to think about it, that was the very first memory he had of his father closing a door where he could see—with both he and Romeo standing there after the funeral just outside of his study. It had felt like such a definitive thing watching the door close on his father’s pinched, grief-ridden features.
It wasn’t a logical aversion, really.
But Corin didn’t chase.
He could still remember knocking on that door later. Knocking and knocking to no answer from within despite the fact that he could hear his father shuffling about on the other side. He’d pleaded with him to open the door. He hadn’t known what to do with Romeo, snot-covered and bawling his eyes out all those hours later.
So Corin walked away.
It was a strange thing to remember, standing on the steps of the church with his aunt and cousin on either side of him. But the church doors had closed just before they reached them, and Corin already wanted to be anywhere but inside of that chapel with the crush of people within.
“You can take as long as you need,” Lady Waddeson had said emphatically from his arm, her fingers like talons on his forearm as she squeezed in what he was sure was meant to be a show of comfort.
But his chest had felt tight, and the doors were opening, once more, so Corin only lifted his chin, giving his aunt barely a nod of acknowledgment as he led Charlotte and she in through the wide double doors and into the overly floral room beyond.
God, he hated churches.
He hated the excess of floral arrangements that had been put out, roses and baby’s breath so reminiscent of his foyer in the months preceding Alice’s death…
“Corin!” A stately, gray-haired lady called from up by the receiving line of the memorial. She had wide, watery blue eyes and a little button nose much like her daughter’s had been, her eyes misting even further with tears as she hurriedly rushed from her family’s side and over toward their awkward threesome.
“Oh, Corin, I’m so glad that you came! I know how hard this must all be for you…” Lady Summers gushed, reaching out to embrace Corin with an abundance of affection that he immediately wanted to shy away from.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Corin had returned gravely, patting her back awkwardly until she stepped back from him. He had never quite gotten used to his mother-in-law's eccentricities. Then again, he’d hardly been given much time to either.
“I was hoping that—Oh…” She cut off mid-sentence, her eyes going wide and her face paling as she stared beyond Corin and to the double doors that he had just come through.
Corin, Charlotte, and Aunt Lydia had all turned as one, their expressions equal measures of shock at the sight of Romeo ducking through the doors, an arrangement of flowers clutched in one hand as he looked nervously about him.
Corin, normally rather good about keeping his cool in awkward situations, had felt the back of his neck grow hot as his eyes narrowed at the sight. “What in the bloody hell does he think that he’s doing?” he growled.
“Paying his respects,” Aunt Lydia said briskly, letting go of his arm and immediately threading hers instead through their hostesses as she pulled Charlotte with her. “Lady Summers, is that a recently acquired painting of our dear Alice? I’m sure I haven’t seen it before, pray tell who you commissioned to paint it.”
Expertly, Aunt Lydia pulled Lady Summers away, leaving Corin free to stride quickly across the room to grab his brother by his lapels and pull him into an adjoining, thankfully empty hallway.
“Hey! This is a new suit, Corin. I say!” Romeo had pulled and twisted to try and escape Corin’s grip but Corin’s fingers only tightened as he pulled him further away from the memorial, a red haze over his eyes as he fought the urge to deck his brother entirely.
“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing here?” Corin had repeated darkly, all but throwing Romeo away from him once he deemed them far enough away to not be overheard.
“Grieving with everyone else!” Romeo snapped, fumbling about to try and readjust his jacket so as to not appear quite so disheveled. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Corin, disbelief and annoyance clear in his gaze.
“Did you not think,” Corin bit out carefully, “it foolhardy of you to come and be seen here?”
Romeo started, confusion filling in behind all of his frustration. “Why should I not? Do you—”
“I was herhusband!” Corin snapped, his teeth clenching as his fingers balled into twin tight fists at his sides. “Have you had enough libation to forget the very reason that I had to marry Alice in the first place or are you just so dense as to not consider it relevant?”
Romeo’s ears had turned a dark, blotchy red, his rakish expression slipping slightly as he broke eye contact uncomfortably with Corin. “I hadn’t forgotten,” he muttered sullenly.
“Really? Youhadn’tforgotten your affair going public with Alice scarcely half a year after you said your vows to Sybille? Youhadn’tforgotten how very publicly she was going to be cast out of thetonbecause of it or the lengths both her family andourshad to go to in order to ensure that none of that happened? Or did you happen to forget the day of our wedding when my bride was still crying over you and the shame that you brought her?”
Corin’s words flew from his mouth with more vitriol than he usually allowed himself, his rage burning bright within him as he backed Romeo into the wall behind him.
Corin didn’t like to think about Alice.
