Page 13 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
Chapter 5
William continued to stare, uncertain if it shocked him more that Henry had gone ahead and requested for a writer to come to the house when it was just an errant idea they’d had one evening, or that Mr. Reginal Baxter was, in fact, a woman?
No. It’s the fact it’s the lady from the assembly.
“Mr. Baxter?” he repeated, suspicion and humor laden in his voice.
The lady curtsied rather deeply. Her gown was nothing like what it had been two nights before. It was a cheaper material, yet still flattering on her willowy figure. His eyes trailed over her, and he had to snap his attention back to her face.
“As you see,” she said with wit, the smallest of smiles curling her lip.
“Henry—” William turned sharply to face his butler.
“I know.” Henry held up his hands in innocence. “It was merely an idea discussed, not yet a plan agreed upon.”
“Exactly.”
“Yet I do believe you should talk with the writer. At least it will be a chance to discuss the idea.”
“But…” William trailed off, his eyes returning to the lady as she raised a single eyebrow at him.
“Ah, I see.” That smile lifted into something else now, something altogether more challenging. “Do you think because I merely use a man’s name and am not, in fact, one, that I lack the skill of being a writer?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Perhaps you were thinking it.”
“Can you read minds as well as you write, ma’am?” he asked, mirroring her challenging tone.
Henry, at his side, cleared his throat, and William looked toward him. He knew well enough what his friend was thinking. William was not usually challenging. He was a man who liked to keep his thoughts to himself and had done for years with his father in the house, but with this lady, something had sparked within him.
“Men often think the same thing, that is all. It makes them easier to read.”
“You’d be wrong. I am currently wondering why you crept into the assembly the other night.”
Rather than answer his question, she turned with an accusing glare at Henry.
“Ah, that is my doing as well.” Henry held his hands up in innocence. “I may have suggested that she come to the assembly the other night so that we could meet and talk about the commission.”
“No commission has been agreed upon yet!” William said with sudden passion, rounding on Henry.
He thought back to the night in this very room where they had sat together, each nursing a glass of brandy, as they spoke about the future. It was Henry’s suggestion that William hire a writer to put together an account of his life and his father’s, to write the wrong and set aside any misjudgments about him. After a glass of brandy, it might have seemed like a good idea. Sober, William wasn’t so sure.
“Yet let us talk of the possibility, my lord.” Henry stepped forward, holding out his hands. “I have seen myself that you are fond of Mr. Baxter’s pieces. You often laugh aloud when you read them, do you not?”
William glanced self-consciously at the woman. Those piercing blue eyes were on him again. The thought that he had actually been laughing at her written words warmed him in a way he hadn’t been expecting. He fidgeted, adjusting the lapels of his tailcoat.
“You have enjoyed my work, my lord?” she asked with a humored smile.
“I have.” He nodded. “I certainly cannot continue this conversation without knowing your real name.”
“Thornton,” she answered, lifting her chin a little, as if growing in confidence. “Miss Rebecca Thornton. Becca for short.”
“Becca,” William repeated the word. It was a beautiful name, one that suited her well.
“We also cannot complete this conversation without tea,” Henry said, moving to the side of the room and opening the door again. He called for a maid to prepare tea, then turned back to face them again.
William just stared at Miss Becca Thornton. Neither one of them looked away from the other, and the power of those aquamarine eyes made William wish Henry had gone to prepare the tea himself.
