Page 16 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
Chapter 6
Lord Lancaster said nothing more. He merely gulped the rest of his tea and fell into silence.
Becca stared at him, finding that so much more made sense about him now. She understood why, the night they met, he had been trying to get away from the ballroom and felt a bit cramped in the crowds. If he was used to being alone in this house, his only true friend, the butler, it was a natural expression.
Henry moved toward her now, urging her to drink the tea she had ignored so far. She thanked him and took the tea, drinking it thirstily as she looked down at her notes.
Pity swirled in her stomach, a sadness for the man sat opposite her, whom she barely knew, but now had been given a glimpse into his heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words escaping her fast.
“Don’t pity me, please, and do not apologize,” he said with sudden firmness that captivated her. “What I want from this story is for people to understand, not to pity. Good God, if I have to go to events of thetonwith people coming up to meet saying words of pity, I think I’ll happily retreat back here to this house and live alone.”
“My lord,” Henry murmured.
“You know what I mean.” He waved the objection away. “All I want is not to be looked at as if I am the devil incarnate.”
“I understand,” Becca assured him.
“I know that with what I have told you, you may wish for no association with my story.” He held her gaze now, not once looking away. He hesitated, and in that silence, they both breathed deeply.
She wondered absentmindedly if he felt as she did, that every time he looked at her, he wanted to be alone, if he wanted to be in her arms again, that this mere proximity to one another was having a physical effect on his body. Her palms were clammy, her heartbeat stuttered.
“Why would I want no association with you?” she asked slowly, finding her voice at last.
“For I imagine there will always be some who will refuse to believe it. They’ll believe their own version of the gossip, instead of the truth. It may mean some will lambast the name, Mr. Reginal Baxter.”
“Well, if that’s the case…” She paused and smiled. “I can always get a new pseudonym if they turn against this one.”
His own smile appeared suddenly, clearly startled by her attitude. She was quite happy to risk the integrity of one pseudonym if it meant helping out a man who was now a prisoner in his own home thanks to gossip alone.
“I will happily tell your story, my lord.” She closed up her notebook, knowing she did not need to look over the particulars now. “But it will take time. We’d have to meet multiple times to discuss your life and your father’s. Could you bear my company for so many meetings?”
“I daresay I could,” he said with a mischievous smile on his lips. She matched that look, feeling excitement brewing in her stomach. “I can pay you for your writing as well. How does a hundred pounds sound?”
Becca dropped the teacup in her grasp. It happened so swiftly that she had no chance of catching the cup. It slipped out of her hand, knocked her knee, and then fell to the rug, where it fortunately didn’t break but rolled away and spilled tea.
“I…I’m so sorry.” She bent down to retrieve it, but Henry beat her to it. He was already on his knees, mopping up the mess and collecting the cup. Before she could phrase the apology again, hefound another cup, poured out fresh tea, and pushed it back into her grasp. “You trust me with another cup?”
“We’ll take the risk,” Henry said with a glint in his own eye. “I think you startled her with your offer, my lord.”
“A hundred pounds is far too much. Way above what I was expecting!” she declared with vigor. “You should save your money, my lord. Do not spend it on me.”
“I gladly will,” he said with such heat that she was glad Henry’s attention was taken with by mopping up the tea, so only she could see Lord Lancaster’s expression. “I will spend anything it takes to set the record straight, and at least now, you’ll be able to spend dedicated time on the work, will you not?”
“Yes. Yes, I will,” she assured him. “Then, you would be happy for me to return tomorrow?”
“Happily.” Lord Lancaster smiled and looked at his butler. “Bring more teacups tomorrow, Henry,” he teased. “We might need them.”
Becca kept staring at the baron as Henry stood and walked away with his dirtied handkerchief. She could have sworn for a minute that he didn’t want to look at anything but her. Those dark eyes didn’t blink; they didn’t hesitate or flick away, but stared right at her. She breathed deeply, and with the rising of her chest, itappeared to break the spell. His eyes flitted down to her chest, then he jerked his head away.
There is an attraction there. I am sure of it!
He cleared his throat and stood. Clearly their interview was over for the day.
“Until tomorrow,” he said, his voice abruptly cool compared to the warmth it had held a few moments before.
“Until tomorrow,” she said, standing and curtseying to him. When he bowed, she stood straight, her eyebrows shooting up. “You should not feel a need to bow to me, my lord. I am but a humble writer.”
