Page 72 of How to Ruin a Duke
She seemed sad to him, but that had to be more of her deceptive nature on display.
“Then be off,” she said, smiling up at him.“I have work to do, and I’m sure you have appointments to keep.”
He braced himself to endure a kiss on the mouth, but she instead kissed his cheek and lingered near for a moment, then stepped back.His escape was apparently to be successful, no shouting, no accusations, no disclosing his intentions where she was concerned, no… anything.
“Good-bye,” she said, gathering the dressing gown around herself.
The bed was rumpled behind her, her feet were bare, and her braid was coming undone.Nonetheless, her bearing was dignified, and that—the quality of her silence, the calm in her gaze—vexed Thaddeus into nearly blurting out what he’d found.
He bowed without taking her hand.“Good-bye.”By sheer force of will, he made his way down the steps and out the front door, pausing only to collect his hat, gloves, and walking stick.He kept marching, no looking back, no last glance over his shoulder to see if the lady watched him depart.
He’d been a fool.Women had been making fools of men since the dawn of history.Perhaps somebody should write a book about that, about all the times men had been led astray by…
His steps slowed as he approached the corner.He did steal a glance at the tired, humble dwelling where he’d left a piece of his heart and all of his delusions.Lady Edith stood in the window of the upper story, a pale figure who didn’t look to be gloating.She dabbed at her cheek with the edge of a shawl, the quality of the gesture suggesting that Thaddeus had, in fact, left her in tears.
She moved away from the window, and he stepped off the walkway, nearly getting himself run over by a stylish phaeton pulled by matching bays.
“I have the best news, Edie!”Foster took her by the hand and waltzed with her around the parlor before he’d even removed his top hat.“The very, very best.Behold,”—he stopped mid-twirl and swooped a graceful bow—“the next playwright-in-residence at the Maloney Lane Theater.”
Joy made a good effort to push aside Edith’s sorrow.“Playwright-in-residence?They will produce your work?”
“My works—plural.”Foster doffed his hat and caught it on the handle of his walking stick.“Three plays a year for the next two years.I am to contribute farces and interludes for other major productions, and I have a say on what those productions might be.My duties will be endless.I’m to assist with casting, find sponsors, monitor the directors, consult on the costumes…” He executed a double pirouette and then dipped another bow.
“I have work for you, Edie.Stitching costumes, assisting with stage direction, choosing the props, writing the playbills.I told the committee that my sister is my muse, and I must have your inspiration to call upon.They were shocked, you being a lady and all, but that bunch enjoys shaking things up.Witness,”—more twirling ending in a leap—“they hired me.”
He landed in a kneeling positions as lightly as a breeze-borne leaf in the center of the hearthrug.“Say you’re pleased, dearest Edie.I know the theater isn’t quite proper, and you’d rather I become a famous author, but my heart’s with the stage.”
He rose and dusted himself off, as Edith must dust herself off.
“I am so pleased, and so proud of you, Foster.I don’t know what to say.You have accomplished the impossible with nothing to aid you but determination and providence.”
“Not so.”He tossed his hat through the doorway, so his millinery came to rest on the sideboard.“I had your faith in me, I had your careful eye reading all of my rough drafts.I had you to cheer me on when the larger houses turned up their noses and told me my work was hopeless.I had the knowledge that you were proud of me simply because I’m too stubborn to give up.All those years of bouncing through the homes of cousins and aunties, you took up for me.You refused to be separated from me and I am gloriously happy to be able to repay a small portion of your loyalty now.”
He looked gloriously happy, and well he should.“I knew that if you knocked on the right doors with the right material, your talent would win the day.I am beyond elated for you.”Though the prospect of working in a theater… that was another step away from the expectations of a lady.
More like a grand leap in the opposite direction, but not necessarily in the wrong direction.A woman had to eat, though she did not live by bread alone.
“There’s more, Edie.I haven’t occupied myself entirely with peddling my plays, you know.”
If he announced that he was taking a wife, she would… be happy for him, right after she ran back upstairs and indulged in another bout of useless tears.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Foster.”
“I’ve been looking at houses.We can afford to move, Edie.I’ve found a place I’d like to show you—now, this instant.It’s not far, and it’s on a little private square.We’ll have real grass off the back terrace, nearly three square yards of it, so you can take some irises to plant there if you’re of a mind to.Say you’ll look at it with me, please?”
Edith didn’t want to go anywhere.She wanted to crawl back to bed and contemplate the great folly of having shared that bed with His Grace of Emory.He’d been a tender, considerate, passionate lover, both sweetly affectionate and diabolically skilled.
The moments of drifting off to sleep in his arms had been a greater gift even than the erotic glories.For a short while, Edith had felt cherished and sheltered, all the cares and worries held at bay by a lover’s embrace.
She’d woken to find a distracted duke rather than an indulgent lover in her bedroom.Emory had dressed quickly, apparently intent on stealing away without bidding her farewell, and that had been a blow to her heart.No coin had changed hands—Edith would have flung it in his handsome face—but his haste had turned a stolen pleasure into something less.His manner, so brisk and casual, had confirmed that tawdry needn’t always involve malicious gossip or monetary arrangements.
She’d lied to him, of course, for when she’d seen him consult his watch in her very bedroom, she did regret yielding to temptation with him.She’d liked him better when she’d known him less intimately, but then, he’d given her exactly what she’d asked for, hadn’t he?A stolen moment, a time apart, no expectations on either side.
Foster set his hands on her shoulders.“I’ve sprung my good news on you all of a sudden, and I haven’t once asked about your book.How comes the new project?”
“I made a good start, and I have the sense progress will be swift.I know what story I want to tell.”
“Always a plus, when the tale reveals itself at the outset.Will you come see this house with me?It’s a lovely day for a walk, and I can’t wait to get you away from this dreary little street.”
