Page 53 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
“What happened?” he asked, turning to face her as she leaned against him. Touch was so easy between them now, and he raised an arm around her shoulders.
“My father was upset I stayed out so late last night. He said I should not be staying at Charlotte’s house so late, when the areas around the print houses are not always reputable.” She giggled. “If he only knew where I had truly been!”
“What would he say then?” Will tried to smile but struggled. Having made love to Becca outside of wedlock, he had dishonored her father, but it was a dishonor that wouldn’t continue. Will intended to make amends as soon as he met her father and put them on a path where they would be united forever.
“God only knows,” she giggled once more. “Our cook, though.” She wrinkled her nose. “Franny suspects something. When I declared I was going out early, she invented an excuse to go to the market and tried to follow me. Fortunately, she cannot move as quickly as me, and I was able to escape her. Our secret is safe for now.”
“For now, indeed.” He smiled with her. He could tell her that what they shared wouldn’t have to be a secret for always if she did not want it to be, but this did not feel like the right time.
“So? How far away is this address?” she asked. “Has your butler sent you any more word about who you are to visit?”
“None.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note, which bore the address Henry had sent him. “He hasn’t even given a name, a person to whom we should speak to when I arrive. It is most curious and unlike Henry to be so enigmatic. He is usually a plain speaker.”
“Then we shall find out when we arrive. Do not worry, Will.” She took his hand. “All will be understood soon enough, I’m sure.”
He entwined their fingers together, taking comfort in her touch as he breathed deeply. On their journey, they debated who could be at the address. Perhaps the priest who married George and Sarah? Yet that didn’t seem likely, for the address was for a fine end of town. Becca also suggested this could be the address for a witness for the wedding ceremony.
“No, I do not think so.” Will shook his head. “Any fine, respectable gentleman could have been the witness for their marriage. Instead, their witnesses signed with crosses. They could not write. No, something doesn’t seem right about this.”
He grew increasingly nervous the closer to that side of town they became, with his knee bobbing up and down. Becca rubbed soothing circles with her thumb on the back of his hand, and he distracted himself with that touch, thinking of what they hadshared the night before. Without words, he rested his forehead against hers, feeling her sigh with contentment as she leaned into him, too.
They stayed silent, though both of them breathed in a jittery way. He hoped she was thinking of the same things, recalling how their bodies had moved together, how they had both found a release, and how they had clung onto one another in the midst of their passions, like lost souls clinging for life at sea.
The carriage came to a stop, and he lifted his head from hers, peering through the window.
“Oh,” he murmured. Through the window, he saw a tall red brick building standing before him, but it was not one of the grand townhouses he had imagined from the address Henry had given him.
It was the only building in the street set further back from the road, with a vast gate and a track leading to the front door made of gravel. The house sat within fine gardens, in particular, tall weeping willows that bordered the building with their tear-like leaves.
“Not what you were expecting?” Becca whispered.
“Not at all.”
When he made no movement, she stepped down from the carriage first. Encouraged as usual by her activity, he followed and stepped down, too. He pulled out the letter Henry had sent him, but there was no encouragement or instruction of what to do next on the note, none at all, only the address.
“I suppose we knock,” he said with a shrug.
“Very well.” Showing no sign of nervousness, Becca walked up to the open gate and stepped through. He hastened to follow her, and they reached the door within seconds, though Will would have been glad for it to take a good deal longer. Becca raised the knocker and let it fall as Will examined the house.
It was a vast estate indeed within the busy street. Whoever lived here had to hold onto some money, and he highly doubted it was Sarah Brackley from the marriage certificate, the poor daughter of a carpenter. He didn’t believe she could have ended up the lady of this house. Unless she was a member of staff?
“Perhaps we should have called at the staff entrance instead?” he suggested.
“Was that in your friend’s note?”
“No.”
Before they had a chance to discuss the matter any further, the door opened, and a rather austere and stiff-looking butler appeared.
“Name?” he said, his tone cold.
“Baron Lancaster and Miss Thornton,” William answered by reflex.
“Very well. Come inside.” The butler bowed his head to them and then urged them to follow. “The master was not expecting guests today, so if you please, wait here in the parlor whilst I announce you to him.” They were shown into a large parlor.
William stepped inside, looking around him in search of a person, half wondering if Henry might be hiding in this house. In contrast, Becca looked at the fine furnishings. As the butler disappeared, she walked around the room, murmuring her admiration for all the nice things.
“He must be a man of some fortune. Of some position, this master. I wonder who he could be?”
