The first involved a secret arrangement with her maid who also acted as Elle’s companion. While Elle worked at the theater, Molly could spend time with her sister rather than follow Elle about the hospital. But the evenings…
“I’m going to help Harriette with the baby more.” She initiated the second half of her plan.
Her sister, although five years younger than Elle, was already a mother. She had landed a titled husband last year when she’d debuted at the tender age of nine and ten, and eleven months later, she’d given birth to the Earl of Sutherland’s heir. Little Lord James! The babe had wrapped Elle around his tiny fingers the moment she held him. Recalling hair as soft as a peach, large eyes, and the scent of innocence unique to her nephew, Elle almost wished this lie was true.
But for now, Little Lord James was going to provide Elle with a plausible reason to be away from home.
That was, as long as her sister Harriette, who devoured everything Elle wrote and supported her ardently, agreed to vouch for her.
Their middle sister had been married off the year before—to a very controlling baron. And shortly after their wedding, her husband had announced that Edwina would reside in the country. The city, he’d declared, was no place for his young baroness.
Poor Edwina would not be returning to London.
Husbands were like walnuts. A lady couldn’t know if one was rancid until she’d cracked it open.
If only her father could see beyond tradition and pedigree.
Another reason Elle was determined to establish her independence.
“Lady Sutherland has nurses to care for that boy.” Elle’s father pointed his fork in Elle’s direction. Elle found herself smiling at her mother. Because of course, her father would use Harriette’s title when referring to her, even between just the three of them.
“I want to help,” Elle protested softly. And she did. But she couldn’t. Because she’d had a taste of the theater now—she was too close to achieving her dream.
Perhaps her parents would take her seriously when they watched her play produced.
Because in just a few weeks, it would be.
On Drury Lane!
The reminder made her lightheaded.
She wouldn’t be forced to marry, nor would she be a burden to either of her younger sisters’ families.
Following her debut at the age of eight and ten, she’d flirted and done all the things required of a Mayfair debutante. She’d learned rather quickly that all of her suitors were far more interested in her father than they were in her. And initially, Elle had naively believed she would marry for love—a foolish concept.
Even Harriette, although content with her earl, hadn’t fallen head over heels for him. He’d been relatively young, bathed regularly, and was not horrible to look at.
Citing his good manners and kind character, Harriette had accepted him with no reservation.
“You’ll meet with Ashwood’s son.” Elle’s father pointed his fork again as he spoke. “And until then, accept every invitation your mother deems suitable until the matter is settled. And no sitting in the corners daydreaming—or hiding in the library. Writing.” He spoke the last word with bitter disdain before turning to his wife. “We never should have allowed her so much time to read. She’s been ruled by her imagination ever since.”
Elle clamped her mouth shut to keep from arguing.
If her father knew her at all, he’d know that writing meant everything to her. Living in one’s imagination was far easier than living in reality.
Hands shaking, she smoothed her napkin on her lap and did her best not to feel guilty.
For lying.
For disobeying her father’s greatest wish.
For… All of it.
Her plan would work for now… It had to. And if it didn’t, she would live with the consequences… no doubt her father wouldn’t want anything to do with his oldest daughter.
Everything could be different.
In just a few months’ time.
