Page 20 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
“If you intend to further insult me by repeating your offer to—”
“I’m not offering to rescind my review again,” Corin cut her off with a short look. “I’m aware I’ve offended you egregiously. My behavior has been less than commendable,Miss Merrit. I’d like to make up for that, if you’ll allow me to. I am quite engaged in the literary world, you know. I could help you with your writing. I could introduce you to publishers. I could edit your work. As I stated at our last meeting, the talent is clearly there. I think you just need a critical eye to go over and help you better fine tune that raw talent, as any author might.”
He’d given it a lot of thought between their last meeting and speaking to her right then. He didn’t offer her any further praise or try to sway her. He finished with a small nod, his head slightly cocked as he watched the emotions chase themselves through her green-gold eyes.
“How can I refuse such an offer?” Imelda asked softly, but there was no hint of acceptance in her voice. If anything, she sounded skeptical, her lips pinching as she looked him up and down.
“You are free to do whatever it is that you wish, Im—Miss Merrit.” Corin caught himself just in time, not bothering to hide the sincerity in his words.
She could refuse him. He would hardly fault her if she did.
But his words seemed to make Imelda pause further, her eyes darting around the room as if only just realizing that they might be garnering attention.
“I need time to think it over,” Imelda murmured after what felt like several long moments.
She met his gaze slowly, her head dipping as she took a step back, and Corin felt the faintest unfurling of hope within his chest.
Something else passed between them, silent and heavy, and Corin felt his heart stutter in his chest. He had been the one to make the offer, but as she walked off, he felt like maybe in doing so, he had signed his own death warrant.
Chapter 7
“I don’t think I’ve ever attended a play at this theatre,” Miss Tuberville commented in wonder as the curtain descended on the last applause of the encore. She was dressed more conservatively than her two companions, the class difference between she, Lady Charlotte, and Imelda clearly marked. Something that she was obviously overly aware of.
Imelda smiled just as prettily as Charlotte did though, sandwiching her between them as they leaned in as the noise of the Drury Lane Theatre died back down.
“I’ve hardly had much chance myself over the years,” Imelda confided reassuringly. “And it is my uncle’s main theatre house!”
Lady Charlotte laughed, patting Miss Tuberville on the hand as they traded the dimly lit audience pit for the brightly lit warmth of the lights reigniting. “It is one of my mother’s very favorite playhouses to attend,” she admitted, “so I can hardly claim the same. Though, I do believe that Sir John has quite a lot to do with that. My mother insists he is the best playwright in all of England.”
“I’ll agree to such, though I may be biased,” Imelda confessed with a quick grin.
The girls rose from their seats, Imelda leading the way as they went against the crush of people leaving to head instead for the stage.
“There are so many people,” Miss Tuberville commented in surprise, looking around her with wide eyes.
“A great number of those here tonight are critics,” Imelda told her over her shoulder, fighting the urge to search their faces. She knew Corin would be among them. Her uncle had all but confessed as much when he had laughingly announced at dinner a few evenings before that the great Prospero had been helping advise him on his latest play.
“Because of the advanced showing?” Miss Tuberville asked, craning her head to look around as they neared the backstage entry.
“Any of the female critics, if indeed there are any, are clearly just here for Mr. Fellowes,” Charlotte said archly as they passed through the doorway and caught sight of the supporting role man himself surrounded by a group of adoring female fans.
Miss Tuberville giggled, but Imelda’s own laughter dried in her throat at the sight of Corin standing only a few feet away from him, his head bent as he talked to her uncle.
God, how had she not considered he might be backstage?
She’d done her best to avoid him since his offer. Her pride demanded she refuse such a thing, despite her knowing how great of an opportunity for her career that he was presenting.
“He is very handsome,” Miss Tuberville whispered as they neared.
She wasn’t wrong. He was a striking man, standing head and shoulders above the women surrounding him, his golden hair and countenance making for star-worthy potential. If one had seen him off of the stage before the production had started, Imelda knew no one could have been faulted for assuming he would be playing the lead role.
“Imelda!” Sir John called out above the crowd, beckoning her over to where he stood with the cast and Corin.
Imelda did her best to appear as if she didn’t see Corin at all, dragging her two friends with her as she stopped just in front of her uncle and Corin.
“That was a wonderful production,” Imelda greeted her uncle warmly. “I just adored the juxtaposition of the chorus with that final scene. And the set!”
“Don’t forget the acting,” Sir John teased, beaming despite his words. He waved several cast members closest to him forward. “Theodore Fellowes, Erica Lane, and, of course, our lead man Alphonso Riveras! I’d like for you to meet my niece, Imelda Merrit. Imelda, several vertebrae of the backbone of my company.”
