Too weary to argue, Elle simply nodded before making her escape.
That had been several hours ago, and if anything, Elle was in worse condition than she’d been right after coming home.
She sobbed, and then hiccupped before dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes.
After writing the letter, she’d nearly changed her mind at least one hundred times. But it had been the right thing to do. And if nothing else, she felt a small amount of comfort that she could finally stop with all the lying.
Perhaps someday she would go back and tell Carter the truth.
Or perhaps he’d catch sight of her sitting in her father’s box. The possibility both comforted and terrified her.
“Your mother said you should wear this one.” Molly stepped out of the dressing room holding a brilliant emerald silk gown. “It matches your eyes.”
The last thing Elle wanted to do that night was dress up and make conversation. She was exhausted, broken, and… already missing Carter.
She’d given up her dream.
She would never see Carter again. But it was for the best.
“You’ll write other plays.” Molly, who’d been in on it from the beginning, was nearly as disappointed as Elle herself. “Perhaps you’ll feel better after a hot bath. Would you like me to have one drawn?”
“No. Yes. It doesn’t matter.” Elle shook her head before settling on, “Yes, please.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Molly disappeared. Not half an hour later, she returned, followed by four footmen carrying heated buckets of water to pour into the copper tub stored behind a screen.
Once it was filled, Elle climbed in, allowing the heat to seep into limbs that only felt half-alive.
The water had been scented with rose oil, and Molly took her time washing Elle’s hair and then combing most of the water out. With Elle’s hair crackling from the thorough brushing, Molly fetched the emerald silk and then dropped it over her mistress’s head, tugging and smoothing so that the skirts swooshed down and brushed the tops of Elle’s feet.
All the while, Elle remembered the dimly lit basement at Drury Lane, struggling out of her own paint-soaked dress and slipping into one of Juliet’s old costumes.
And having Carter in place of a lady’s maid, with his gentle hands and heated gaze.
More tears threatened.
“You look beautiful, my lady. Please, don’t be sad. This isn’t the end. We’ll figure something out later. I’ll help you. Please, this isn’t the end.”
Oh, but it was.
Elle forced a watery smile. This ache would eventually pass. It had to!
Molly finished styling Elle’s hair by winding a braid into a perfect coronet atop Elle’s head and then tying it off with gold ribbons.
“It’s too much,” Elle complained weakly.
“A woman feels as good as she looks.” This time, Molly earned a roll of Elle’s eyes.
“If you say so.”
But just then, a knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” she called.
Expecting her mother, she flinched to see her father instead.
She‘d hoped that he might have listened to her before and taken some of what she’d said to heart, but, obviously, he’d not backed down in regard to managing every aspect of her life.
And yet, it hurt her heart to see him looking a little more tired than usual, a little paler than usual.
She was all but helpless when he gave her a sad little smile.
