Page 67 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
Imelda laughed, unable to help herself.
Just the thought of Theodore paying enough attention outside of himself to propose was preposterous. And she was oddly touched by her father speaking up on her behalf, especially as it seemed to be in a supportive way.
“No. Oh, Aunt Cassandra. I don’t even know where to begin!”
Her aunt tsked, looking at her shrewdly. “Perhaps with this suitor’s name?”
Imelda blushed a deep red, her gaze skittering away from her aunt’s once more as she exhaled roughly. “Corin Langford.”
The silence following his name was nearly palpable.
“I know that it is probably unexpected,” Imelda hurried to explain, begging her aunt to understand. “And I know that you are dear friends with his aunt. And Charlotte and Spencer…but Corin and I have been acquainted for much longer than I let on, and our history is…complicated at best.”
Imelda’s aunt said nothing, her eyebrows rising in surprise, but her commentary was notably absent.
“I love him, Aunt Cassandra. And he loves me. But accepting his proposal would be giving up my independence. And I am already under suspicion of cultivating and using him for my literary means. I want to succeed on my own!”
All of Imelda’s worries came pouring out of her, the hesitation she didn’t want to feel at accepting the proposal that hadn’t even been offered yet.
Aunt Corrin looked surprised, but a small smile still tilted her lips all the same.
“My dear girl, you’ve already said the only thing that matters,” Aunt Cassandra said emphatically as the carriage slowed as it approached the theatre. “I cannot tell you which path to take. My opinion doesn’t matter. No one else’s opinion matters.” She reached forward as the sound of the crowd outside penetrated their carriage. “You have to follow your heart, no matter what anyone else thinks or might say.”
She squeezed Imelda’s hands firmly and Imelda felt tears prick the backs of her eyes as the door was opened by the footman. She was quick to tuck the ring back into her purse, her throat tight as she straightened once more.
“Lady and Miss Merrit,” the young man greeted politely, bowing out of the way and holding his hand out to help them descend.
Her aunt squeezed her hands one more time, offering her a comforting smile, before letting her go to depart.
Imelda made quick work of gathering herself together, inhaling sharply before following her and pasting a social smile on her lips.
It was loud enough to discourage any further private conversation, but her aunt took her arm with a quiet fondness that emboldened Imelda almost as much as her words had.
Could she follow her heart?
She wanted to.
She knew exactly what her heart wanted, what her heart had always wanted.
And it was the man missing from the empty seat inside of their box as they swept indoors and to their seats.
Corin was missing.
All of Imelda’s earlier worry came back, compounded by the heavy stare she could feel coming from the box next to theirs.
Her uncle had been kind enough to get seats for the whole of The Woman’s Word, the laughter from within grating next to how fiercely Joanne stared at her from her own seat.
What was she saying?
Imelda couldn’t hear. She felt torn, her thoughts pulled in a million different directions as a heavy hand suddenly pressed into her shoulder.
The warmth of Corin’s hand was like a balm to Imelda’s very soul.
Joanne ceased to exist. The whispers and stares ceased to exist.
There was only Corin, grim-faced, standing over her, the love in his dark eyes undeniable.
“You made it,” Imelda breathed gratefully, reaching up to put her hand over his despite the public setting.
