Page 68 of Burning Secrets of a Lady's Pen
His fingers curved down into her shoulders, his nod brief.
“I can’t stay,” Corin said apologetically, shooting a brief look at her aunt before bending so that his next words were only for Imelda. “The duel is set to begin in the next hour. I should have just gone on. I just didn’t want to not see you before I went.” His breath tickled her cheek, his eyes searching hers.
Imelda wanted to close the distance between them and throw herself into his arms.
It took all of her self-restraint to remain seated, her fingers tightening over the tops of his in order to try and convey any of that to him. “You have to go?”
Corin nodded again, his grimace short-lived. “I will come back for you,” he promised ardently. “I love you. I just wanted to say that, before I left.”
Imelda’s breath caught, the words on the tip of her tongue.
But Corin kissed the side of her forehead and stood before she had a chance, his body removed from the box just as suddenly as he had entered it.
For a long moment, Imelda could only watch the doorway, her breath ragged as she fought the tears at the back of her eyes.
Aunt Cassandra reached out, lacing her fingers supportively through Imelda’s just before the lights began to dim.
But not before a rash of whispering broke out from the box across from theirs. Imelda looked over just in time to see Joanne speaking to her captivated audience, gesturing over at the box that Imelda was in.
Damn it all.
Had she told them?
Had that kiss made her think that she could spread such gossip?
Imelda’s eyes burned as Joanne faded from view, the lights on the stage going up and the orchestra announcing the start of the play.
Imelda tried hard to focus on the opening act, her stomach a knot of worry for so very many different reasons.
It wasn’t difficult to allow the play to distract her, though.
From the very first five minutes, disaster set in.
The set behind the actors crumbled, the crack carrying over what was supposed to be Theodore’s opening line and drowning him out.
Then Theodore had to call for his lines…three separate times.
It was like watching her own life play out before her on the stage, calamity after calamity befalling the scenes until even the actors could be heard arguing backstage.
By the time the first act started to conclude, even her Aunt Cassandra was sitting stiffly at her side, tension radiating throughout their entire box as Imelda’s father ducked in, his face red and blotchy.
“John will pull things back together,” Cassandra whispered as he slid into his seat, using her free hand to pat his shoulder. Imelda didn’t know who she was trying to convince with those words more.
Mr. Merrit didn’t look at her, though he looked right past her to Imelda instead.
“Your name is being bandied about quite a bit outside of this box,” he said evenly, his expression one that Imelda couldn’t recognize.
Her heart stopped in her chest, her face losing all of its warmth and color as she imagined what portion of the rumor he might have overheard. Had Joanne named Corin as the one she had been walked in on with or had she just spread the portion about Imelda herself? Would her father care? How could she explain, at all, what Joanne was saying?
“What is that supposed to mean?” Aunt Cassandra asked, befuddled. “What does Imelda have to do with the play?”
“Not with the play.” Mr. Merrit huffed, running his handkerchief down his face. “With some Seymour Batten and his refusal of her manuscript? You were trying to publish amanuscript, Imelda?”
Imelda blanched, but relief flooded her all the same.Thatwas the rumor Joanne was spreading?
Chapter 24
St. James Park at night was unlike anything else. Darkness encompassed the usually bright, open space, trees casting long shadows over the normally cheery space. There was a somberness to it, a haunting tranquility that fit too well with its purpose for the night.
