Page 22 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
“Yes, I see your point. I know some of what happened, but not everything.”
“Do you have his papers, my lord?”
“William.”
“Mylord,”she emphasized with a giggle that prompted him to smile. “Is there a way we could piece together the rest of his life?”
“Ah.” He didn’t answer right away. There were, of course, thousands of papers related to his father’s life and business, but they were locked away in his father’s study, a room he’d locked tight after his father’s death, because he could not bear the sight of it. He remembered standing in that room that was almostblack too much as a child, listening as his father berated and shouted at him, belittling him for having too soft a heart.
When he’d inherited the land and money, he’d chosen another room for his study and had his steward fetch all the papers from his father’s room relating to the tenants and the land.
“My lord?” she whispered, her voice now delicate. “Have I asked too much?”
“You? No.” He shook his head, placing his hand over hers on the table, for he could see she was genuinely concerned. Her fingers shifted, and all of a sudden, it was a more intimate touch, their fingers entwining just a touch. They both hesitated, staring down at their hands.
“It would mean unlocking his study that I have kept locked tight since his death, but yes. Yes, I think it is time.” He downed what was left in his teacup, determined it was time to discover everything he could about his father.
Chapter 8
William stood before the study door, his arms folded and facing Henry, who clutched the key between his fingers, holding it in the air.
“Are you sure about this?” Henry asked, his tone low.
“I am.” William unfolded his arms and held his hand out for the key. Beside him, Becca stood, looking between the two of them..
“Very well.” Henry passed the key over with a sigh.
William took the key, startled by how cold and hard it felt in his hand. It was generations old. He thrust the key into the lock, turned it, then opened the door as quickly as he could, but he did not follow into the room with the same haste. As the door creaked open, he stayed in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room before him.
In just the span of a couple of months, the room had grown dusty. There was a thick lining of it upon the grey mantelpiece, the books on the shelves, and the old desk lined with dark green leather. The space in the middle of the floor, bearing no rug and only cold ominous floorboards, made William feel sick.
He stared at it, feeling like a child again rather than a man. How many times had he been called to this room, urged to stand in that spot, as his father shouted at him?
“My lord?” Miss Thornton whispered behind him. he angled his head a little, showing that he had heard her, even though he hadn’t been able to find words yet. “If you do not want to do this, we do not have to.”
“No, I do want to. It’s just…” He paused, sighing. “This room holds no happy memories for me.” He walked into the room, followed by Miss Thornton, though Henry did not follow. The butler looked back and forth down the corridor. “What is it, Henry?”
“I have things to attend to with the staff,” Henry explained quietly.
“Then you must see to it, thank you. We’ll keep the door open.” It was as close as he and Miss Thornton would get to a chaperone, and William found himself delighted by the idea of being alone with her.
Henry nodded, offering one last warning glance, then he was gone, hurrying down the corridor. William turned back to face Miss Thornton, only to find her staring at him, too.
“So?” she whispered.
“So…” A mad idea entered his head now he was alone with her. He could grasp her hand and kiss the back, tell her the truth, that he had not stopped thinking of the dance they had shared together since the night they had met. He could tell her, too, how he couldn’t get thoughts of her out of his mind, scandalous thoughts, which may have made her want to run from him.
I do not want her to run.
“Ahem.” He cleared his throat and turned around, looking at the space through narrowed eyes. “You may look at anything you wish to in this room. It holds no happiness for me in here, and as you say, if we’re going to do this right, then we should be able to talk about all of my father’s secrets.”
“Very well, then let us begin.” She moved toward the desk that, on one side, was piled high with papers. Methodically, she cleared it completely, creating a space so they could work as he watched her, finding it difficult to reach out and touch anything that had belonged to his father.
She took hold of the papers, placing them one at a time on the desk. A strange silence fell between them as he watched her, preferring to marvel at the way she worked than to think about the way the room made him feel.
A sudden laugh disturbed the air, and he stepped back, watching as she lifted her chin with a humored smile.
“Do you intend to watch me the whole time I work, my lord?”
