Untimely Death by Elizabeth J. Duncan

railing, hauled herself up the steps, and knocked on the door.
    Brian opened the door and, in that silly, sly way of people who want to make sure they are not being observed, looked in both directions before closing the door.
    Charlotte checked her watch. They’d have a good hour before Lady Deborah might be expected home. She toyed with the idea of waiting twenty minutes or so and then calling Brian on the number he’d left but decided that little prank was too childish.
    She was surprised by how his turning up after all these years was resurrecting old memories she thought were well and truly buried. She hadn’t seen him since that snowy November day in New York when he’d told her bluntly that their relationship was over.
    “I’ve got something to tell you,” he’d said. “I’ve met someone else. We’re going to be married.”
    Stunned into disbelief, Charlotte had asked who the woman was.
    “No one you know,” Brian had replied with an apologetic smile that didn’t quite mask the pride in his voice. “Her father is an earl.”
    First had come numbing shock, followed by unbearable emotional pain. They’d been together almost two years, and Charlotte loved the life they had created while they established their careers. The cozy little flat in Stratford-upon-Avon where they made love, cooked spaghetti dinners, and drank wine while they playedScrabble late into the night. Her arm tucked through his as she rested her head on his shoulder at a midnight showing in a small art-house cinema. Strolling beside the timeless River Avon, holding hands, watching the sun come up. The excitement of opening nights and sweet sadness of strike parties, all with Brian—the up-and-coming golden boy of British theater.
    Until the moment he’d actually told her they were finished, she’d had no idea he was seeing someone else. As her future collapsed, she found herself unable to board the London-bound plane with the rest of the company, and she’d decided to stay behind in New York for just another week or so while she pulled herself together. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her parents what had happened, because putting it into words would make it true, but yes, she reassured them, she’d be home for Christmas.
    But she wasn’t. She spent the holiday alone in a shabby hotel room in the theater district, and on Boxing Day, she met a gay man in a coffee shop who turned out to be the dresser for a famous Hollywood actor who was appearing in a Eugene O’Neil play on Broadway. Sitting in a booth beside steamed-up windows, he’d listened to her story, hugged her, and offered to introduce her to a few friends who might be able to offer someone with her credentials a bit of contract work.
    One thing had led to another, and step by step she created a life for herself in America.
    Now, she took no pleasure in the fact that Brian was cheating on the woman he’d left her for. If they’ll do it with you, they’ll do it to you, as the saying goes.
    Seeing what he’d become, or rather not become, she was relieved she hadn’t married him, and she realized that all these years she’d been carrying a torch not for the man she’d had but for the man she wished she’d had.

Chapter 13
    As Simon Dyer was about to call an end to the day’s rehearsal, Charlotte Fairfax peered around the edge of a black velour curtain.
    “Right,” said Simon, catching sight of her. “That’s it for today. We’ll meet tomorrow morning and continue where we left off. Work on your lines tonight. Thanks, everybody.”
    The cast members gathered up their belongings and, chatting to one another, left the stage as Charlotte stepped onto it. Although there was a rehearsal room Simon could have used, for a variety of reasons he preferred to rehearse on an actual stage. He set his script on the prop table one of the actors had moved downstage to get out of the way during a fight scene.
    “Hoped I’d find you still here,” Charlotte said. “In case