Page 65 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
“I suppose you could call it a fraud of a kind.” Henry grimaced and lifted the glass to his lips. He took the smallest of sips and then nodded. “I can find no evidence at all that Sarah Brackley and George Dorset’s marriage was ever annulled. No, I believe it was valid until the day that George Dorset died.”
“That means…” Becca trailed off, unable to say the words, yet Lord Longfellow did not have such qualms.
“Bigamy,” he scoffed sourly. “What a man. What a rogue and monster. How could he do that? How could he do that to Anne? To his wife, Sarah? A foul man!” His language got so bad that even William turned to Becca as if he could block her from the words. She raised a hand toward him, waving it to show she hardly minded. The situation warranted it as far as she could tell.
“So…” William began when Lord Longfellow had finished cursing. “George Dorset and my mother’s marriage was never valid, not in the eyes of God, for he was already married.”
“Yes, my lord.” Henry nodded somberly. “I believe it to be true.” He slowly stood from his seat. “Before returning here, I found them at last. Miss Brackley would not talk of George Dorsetwhen I asked her about it. My impression was of a woman who lives in fear, terrified of the comeuppance if the truth were to come out. As for the boy, well, now a man, there can be little doubt about who he is.” Henry gestured to William.
“He is older than you are, my lord. His birth predates your own by three years at least, and Sarah was with child when George Dorset left her. This son, Alexander, is his son.”
William backed up once more. He returned to his seat, falling into it, such a picture of anger and confusion on his face that Becca moved toward him again. As was so natural to do now, she raised a hand and rested it on his shoulder. He covered her hand with his own, entwining their fingers together.
“So many secrets,” he muttered. “So many lies! I…I cannot bear it all…” As fast as he had fallen still in that chair, he was suddenly on his feet again. He marched from the room, but not into the rest of the house. Instead, he headed for the door that led to the garden, pushed open the door, and shot outside.
“William!” Becca shouted after him. The wind and the rain had now grown strong, enough to lash at the windows repeatedly, threateningly, yet it didn’t seem to affect William as he strode out, letting the door bang behind him.
Both Henry and Lord Longfellow made a move toward the door to follow him.
“My friend, only one of us should go,” Lord Longfellow said, catching Henry’s arm. “He doesn’t need to be overwhelmed at this moment.”
“Yes, yes, you are right, my lord, but which one of us?”
As they looked at one another, deciding who it should be, Becca took action. She slipped by the pair of them and out of the door.
“Miss Thornton!” Lord Longfellow called after her, but he was too slow to stop her.
She hastened out into the rain, feeling the drops streak her cheeks in seconds. Raising a hand to shield herself against those icy drips, she ran across the lawn, following the retreating figure of William. It was no easy trek, her feet slipping in the wet grass more than once.
By the time she caught up with him, he was hiding in the trees. The water did not fall so heavily here, thanks to the canopy of the silver birch tree branches above them, but the air was cold and the wind bitter. It ruffled William’s tailcoat as she found him, pulling on his arm.
“William, please, do not run out in this. Do not isolate yourself now—”
“How can I bear it all?” he said suddenly, spinning back around to face her, his face bright red in his fury. “All the lies, all the deceit. George Dorset had the blackest heart I have ever known. He deceived his wife, and then my mother. What if Anne went to her death believing their marriage was valid? She would have sinned in the eyes of God, and all because of hislies!”
“William, William, please, calm yourself.” She pulled on his arms a little more until they staggered together. Raising her hands, she placed them on his cheeks in a calming way, urging him to breathe with her. He released a shuddery breath, his eyes darting all over her. “He is gone. His lies are numerous, yes, awful, but he cannot hurt you now. Not anymore.”
He closed his eyes suddenly and released another breath, sharply. Bending forward, he rested his forehead against hers.
She held him there, a strange sort of embrace, their hands both clawing at one another, her fingers curled tightly around his shoulders as his own hands held onto her upper arms. It was the closest they could get to one another out here in this woodland as they were both lashed by the wind and the rain. Such quiet fell between them, that soon, the only sounds were the whistling wind and the fall of the raindrops.
Eventually, William opened his eyes again.
“You have a habit of calming the beating of my heart when I think it an impossible thing,” he whispered quietly.
“I am here for you,” she assured him, her tone abruptly deep. “Though I do not necessarily see why running out into a storm is good for you.” She wiped the raindrops from his cheeks and face, prompting him to chuckle. The sudden happiness between them prompted both of them to smile.
“I wonder,” he murmured, hesitating for a second and gulping before continuing on. “I wonder about this book, Becca. I want these stories to be told, for people to know what sort of man George truly was, but now I wonder about my mother. What would she think to have such truths dredged up now? Her own name will be lambasted because of my father’s crime of bigamy—”
“No, it will not.” Becca shook her head firmly. “Your mother is the victim in this. Do you fear this book? Do you fear what more we could put in those pages?”
“I certainly fear what more I could find out.” He sighed deeply and tipped his head back, looking up at the branches above them. “It seems every day there is some more horrid secret to discover, some skeleton in a very dark closet. What if…” he swallowed once more, then met her gaze. “What if I find something even worse?”
Becca didn’t think it was possible to find something much worse than the crime they had just discovered. She ran her hands up and down William’s arms comfortingly, and he shuddered.
“Do not touch me like that now,” he whispered, bending his head toward hers again, his eyes closing. “You make me think of things I should not think of.”
They shared mischievous smiles before they both fell serious again.
