Her mother opened her napkin and nodded approval.
“Lady Trowbridge and I delivered several trunks of old clothing to the foundling hospital this afternoon.” Her mother spoke in matter-of-fact tones. Elle bit back a smile. What her mother meant was that several servants had delivered trunks of old clothing to the hospital while she and Lady Trowbridge accepted the thanks of those undeserving orphans.
“I’m sure they’re beyond grateful.” Elle scooped a spoonful of soup and, touching it to her lips, waited a moment for it to cool.
“We do our part,” her mother acknowledged the compliment. “Imagine my embarrassment when, upon asking where I might find my daughter, the director informed me that you had been absent these past two weeks.” All the breath swooped out of Elle’s chest. “Did you mean to make me appear a fool?”
“Of course not.”
Her mother narrowed her stare from across the table. “You lied to me, Elle.” Her mother’s spoon hovered over the soup. “And shirked your responsibilities at the same time. And to think I had just been boasting about all the charitable works you take on.”
“I’m sorry, Mother.” Elle couldn’t lift her head under the weight of her mother’s stare from across the table. “I can explain.” But could she?
“No need. I’ve already spoken with Coachman Pete.” Which meant her mother knew where she’d been going.
The edges of Elle’s vision blurred. “Does…Does Father know?”
“I haven’t told him yet. He’s…” Her mother exhaled, ignoring her soup. “I’m disappointed that you would lie to me.”
“I…” All of Elle’s excuses eluded her. In their place, a giant lump of guilt.
And terror. If her mother wished, she could prevent Elle from leaving the house alone. Two years ago, when Harriette had secretly met with an inappropriate suitor, her mother had locked her in her chamber until the gentleman in question left England.
For half a second, Elle thought she might throw up.
If Elle couldn’t leave her father’s house, she couldn’t go to the theater. Her play might not be produced, and she would disappoint everyone! Mrs. Grey. Samantha. But most disheartening of all… She would disappoint Mr. Dodd.
There would be no more brainstorming scenes with him, no more arguing over character motivation.
And no chance of an almost-kiss ever becoming a real one.
Elle’s heart thumped so loud she was certain her mother could hear it from across the table.
Before she’d been hired, she’d seen the theater as the key to her future livelihood, but it had become so much more than that.
It hadn’t been a real kiss.
He said it won’t happen again.
“I know all about Drury Lane.” Her mother’s words cut straight to the matter. “Did you really think Coachman Pete would keep something like that from me? Do you really believe any of your father’s loyal retainers wouldn’t report where you were going each day?”
Betrayal ebbed through Elle. Coachman Pete had promised to keep her secret! But she should not have counted on that. She had been naïve to think he’d be loyal her when it was her father who paid his salary.
“I’ll have an explanation this very minute, Giselle. And it had better be a good one.”
Elle bought herself a few seconds by sipping at her soup—not her favorite. And although she’d been famished when she’d sat down, her mother’s words had very effectively squashed her appetite.
Even so, however, she couldn’t come up with a lie that would fool her mother. It was as though she’d finally run out of deceptions—her brain was too tired to conjure even one more lie.
“I wrote a play.” She finally settled on the truth. “And the Drury Lane Theater is going to produce it.”
Her mother raised one hand to cover her eyes even as she shook her head side to side. “Just as I expected… you are, of course, this Oldham fellow.”
Elle slumped in her chair with a wince. “Yes.”
Almost a full minute passed before her mother went on.
“You are the eldest daughter of one of England’s most powerful lords. Why would you stoop to pursuing something so… vulgar?” Her expression turned from one of dismay to dread. “I can’t tell your father this. It will kill him. You need to end it, Giselle. If the ton gets wind of what you’ve been up to…” Another grimace. “Your father has secured an excellent match for you. You will cut all ties with the theater and tomorrow you will meet with your intended as your father has planned. And you will marry him. There will be no more disappearing day after day to that… place. Do you understand me?”
