But he was not an evil man. He might be more grumpy than necessary, and he could frustrate her to no end, but she saw through all that to his goodness.
And he was taking a chance on her—on her play. Most directors worked exclusively with male playwrights. Carter had been surprised when he’d learned who she was, but then he’d hired her anyway.
But would he feel the same if he learned who her father was? She hated imagining the most likely outcome if he did.
Her father, a powerful person in his own right, associated with other powerful people who might cause Carter to lose his position at the theater. Her father could ruin the theater if he saw fit.
Elle’s heart skipped a beat. She would never allow that, but Carter didn’t know that.
If he knew, he’d send her packing. Producing her play posed too great of a risk.
Imagining the worst-case scenarios, Elle watched a healthy stream of rainwater meander down the window. This morning, Coachman Pete would take her straight to Drury Lane where he would wait outside so that he could convey her home immediately after she resigned.
She could not resign!
Elle wished she could have spoken to her father first. There was always the possibility that he would indulge her one more time. Unfortunately, when she’d gone to his chamber, Mr. Michaels, his valet, had sent her away. Something he only did when her father was sleeping or ill.
Weight pushed down on her shoulders.
Mr. Michaels had not looked like his normal well-put-together self. His hair had been tousled, and dark circles beneath his eyes had shadowed the man’s unusually pale complexion.
If she wanted to stay at the theater, she would have to leave her parents. But if she wanted to please her parents, she would have to leave the theater.
And she couldn’t do that.
She would ask Mr. Dodd for an advance. Perhaps Mrs. Grey could recommend nearby lodgings.
But she didn’t have so much as a change of clothing with her. She needed more time—time to plan, time to… say goodbye.
Drat and dash it all, why did her parents have to be so stubborn? They were too set in their ways—not to mention blind when it came to their eldest daughter.
The carriage jerked to a halt and Elle’s mind raced as the footman pulled out her step and then opened the door.
“I’m going to wait right here for you, Lady Giselle.” Coachman Pete stood on the walkway looking quite formidable, two outriders behind him. “Your mother expects you home within the hour.”
Before her mother had become involved, he’d discreetly delivered her two streets over. Elle clutched her elbows, glancing around and hoping nobody saw her arrive in her father’s ducal carriage. If the ducal emblem didn’t give her away, the uniformed servants would.
In one last bid for time, she turned pleading eyes on the man who’d caused her to be in this situation. “I…might be a little longer than an hour, Coachman Pete. I made promises. I know my parents are concerned, but I can’t walk away that easily. Surely, you can understand that.”
“I made promises as well, my lady. And one was that I’d return you home with all haste.”
And she’d never forgive herself if she caused the coachman to lose his employment. However… “You didn’t give her a precise time, did you?”
His startled look proved she was right.
“It’s possible I would wish to visit Madam Chantal’s. And after I decide on my new gowns, I’d like to stop at Gunter’s for tea before going back home…”
Coachman Pete squirmed where he stood. “My lady…”
“Just three hours,” Elle pressed. “That way I can finish some of what I started.” But she would not resign.
Not yet.
She would make an excuse for missing the afternoon, return home, and figure out her next move. That would give her time to pack some belongings and to make peace with her decision.
Coachman Pete pursed his lips.
“Please? I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”
