Inventing Love
Page 14
He nodded. “You are amazing, Miss Evans.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hanson.” Alex headed to the stage door and let herself into the prop room. The rigging was as she had left it the day before. After hauling it out, she fastened it in place on the pulleys and beams that crisscrossed the ceiling above center stage.
She was just finishing when the acting troupe began to file in. She nodded as each one greeted her. She froze when her eyes met the last man in line. Weston stared back at her beneath a layer of white makeup. “Weston, um, I mean, Lord Grendal...how are you?”
“Very well, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “How are you?”
“Fine, just fine.” She fussed with the harness to occupy her shaky hands.
“What brings you to Washington?”
“I have moved back into the warehouse. The theater hired me to build the rigging to make some of the actors appear to fly in the play.”
He nodded. “I see.” He smiled at her.
She missed his smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I joined the theater like I always wanted.” He shrugged. “My mother threatened to disown me, but I think she will come around...eventually.”
Alex gave him a sympathetic smile. “I hope so.”
Nodding to someone over her head, he cleared his throat again. “I had better go, rehearsal is about to start.” With a slight bow he stepped past her and continued on to the dressing rooms.
* * * *
Alex smoothed the skirt of her deep green evening gown beneath her fur cloak and hurried backstage. Opening night had been packed and by all accounts a great success. She smiled at the young man who worked her rigging the whole night, flying the ghost actors about the stage to the audience’s ohs and ahs of astonishment. “Well done, Willie.”
He blushed and smiled. “Thanks to your genius, Miss Evans.”
The troupe director met her and kissed her hand. “It was marvelous was it not, my dear Miss Evans?”
“Indeed it was.” She laughed, sobering when her eyes met Weston’s across the room. The last two weeks seeing him every day at the theater had put a strain on her nerves. Her feelings for him were as strong as ever, but he hardly said anything beyond a polite greeting since the first day. She turned away, offering her congratulations to one of the actors as he approached.
“Excuse me, Miss Evans.” Weston held out his hand. “I have invited the cast to attend an opening party at my townhouse and I wondered if you would like to join us.” When she opened her mouth to turn him down he smiled. “My mother is dying to meet you. She has talked of nothing else since I told her you are an inventor.”
She smiled. “Well, I suppose I could attend for a little while.” Taking his offered arm she allowed him to escort her to his waiting carriage. They climbed in with a couple of other cast members who were already popping a bottle of champagne. The ride to Weston’s townhouse was filled with good-natured jokes and laughter. All too soon they arrived, leaving Alex to regret her rash decision to come in the first place as she walked into the house that held the memory of her first ball preparations.
He escorted her to the mirrored ballroom, seated her in a chair along the far wall and procured a glass of champagne for her from a passing servant’s tray. Then clinking his glass with his fob watch he gained the crowd’s attention. “Welcome to my home everyone. Opening night was a rousing success. Here is to a productive season.” He lifted his glass as the room erupted in cheers and they all drank to celebrate the toast. The orchestra picked up a soft melody and he bowed. “Would you bestow upon me a dance, Miss Evans?”
Reluctantly she set down her glass and offered her hand. Though she did want to dance with him the idea of being in his arms again was unnerving and daunting.
He enfolded her in his embrace and guided her around the shiny tile floor. “Relax, the steps to this dance are quite simple.”
“It has been a while since I have danced.” Heat rose in her cheeks and she looked down concentrating on her feet rather than his nearness.
They danced in silence for a while. “You look beautiful in that dress. It reminds me of our first dance.”
“Please do not remind me of how foolishly I imbibed.”
He chuckled, the sound warm and soothing. “I do recall warning you of such folly.”
“You did,” she admitted. A tiny bead of perspiration trickled down her temple, not caused by the warmth of the room, but rather by his nearness.
“You look warm. Perhaps you should stand on the veranda for a few moments. I would not like to spoil the party by having you faint on the dance floor.” He smiled and escorted her to the double-glass doors leading to the veranda without waiting for her to reply.
Despite her reluctance she found herself following him without protest. They stepped out into the chill of the crisp winter air. He drew her over to the railing and settled his dress coat around her shoulders to ward off the chill. She leaned on the rail and looked out over the snow-covered garden that gleamed in the light of dozens of lamps which cast a sparkling glow on the ground.
“Alex, I owe you an apology.”
She fixed her gaze on the frozen fountain.
“Alex?”
“Please, Weston. Let us not talk about it. I want to forget that part of my life. I am happy where I am now.”
He turned her gently toward him. “Are you? Are you really happy, Alex, because I am miserable without you.”
She fought the tears that welled up in her eyes. “You made your choice, Weston. You could not forgive me for falling in love with A-jin-nay.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I was hurt and I did not understand your love for him. I was wrong.” He searched her eyes with his. “I do not fault you for your feelings. I love you, Alex.”
The tears she struggled to hold in check coursed down her cheeks. “I have waited so long to hear you say that.”
Taking her hand he brought it to his lips. “Can you ever forgive this starched shirt for being such a fool?”
Alex gazed up at him, wanting to say yes so desperately her heart lodged in her throat. “I am no longer...virginal.”
He laughed, the rich baritone startling her. “Now who is the starched shirt?” He sobered, drawing her into the warmth of his embrace. “I love you; nothing else matters but that you love me too. Say you do, please.”
Emotion overcame her and she threw her arms around his neck. “I do, I did from the first time I saw you.”
His lips claimed hers in a soft, intoxicating kiss before he drew back and smiled. “I shall spend the rest of my life giving you everything a woman desires.”
“I will hold you to that.”
His eyes twinkled. “See that you do.”
About the Author
Killarney Sheffield is the mother of five school-aged kids, a newspaper reporter, former horse trainer, riding coach and farrier. Her pastimes include working out to Michael Jackson’s Dance for PS3, reading, baking, gardening, listening to all types of music, interviewing celebs, spending time with her stallion, Stamp de Gold, aka Love Monkey, and as always writing.
Also Available at MuseItUp Publishing
Stand and Deliver Your Heart
By Killarney Sheffield
Historical Romance
“This is not a fairy tale. No handsome Prince is going to ride in on a white horse and rescue me.”
Excerpt:
Another fork of lightning lit up the sky, and she wondered if the weather was an omen of terrible things to come. She tried to keep from stiffening in the cold, flexing her limbs slowly so as not to spook their nervous mounts. Her horse shifted its weight, lowering its head away from the pelting rain.
Sarah listened for any sound indicating an approaching carriage. Where is it? Has the driver turned around and headed back to London because of the storm? Maybe we are wasting our time sitting out here in the rain. Perhaps the lady in question is not coming.
Just when she was about to give up, the mare
lifted her head, ears pricked forward. Sarah listened closely. After a few tense moments the sound of jingling harnesses and the rattle of an approaching coach made itself heard over the wind and rain.
“All right men, here she comes,” she whispered over her shoulder. “Get ready.”
Inventing Love © 2012 by Killarney Sheffield
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
MuseItUp Publishing
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Cover Art © 2012 by Marion Sipe
Edited by Nancy Bell
Copyedited by Valerie Haley
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-77127-089-2
First eBook Edition *June 2012
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Table of Contents
Back Cover
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
About the Author
Also Available at MuseItUp Publishing