Page 46 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
“It is.” Henry confirmed with a nod.
“What if we could go there to ask the needed questions? If this is a legal certificate, then it will be confirmed in the church records held in the parish church. It would be simple enough to confirm or deny.”
William stepped forward, realizing she was right. There was a way to find out if this certificate was valid or not.
“What’s more, if the lady did indeed pass away, it is possible she was buried in this same parish,” Henry said quietly, looking up from the certificate. “It would be the way to find out more.”
“Then we must go there.” William turned away, now copying Becca’s earlier behavior by marching up and down, his hands on his hips in resolution.
“We?” Becca repeated.
“Ahem,” Henry cleared his throat and shook his head. “Perhaps that is not the wisest of ideas for you two to go together.”
“Why not?” William asked, turning to face his butler.
“Because…” For the first time ever, Henry looked nervous. Was that a shade of pinkness to his cheeks? “Because if this intimate friendship that is between you within these walls was observed in Winchester, how long would it be before rumors reached London that the Baron Lancaster had a…a…”
“A lady friend far poorer than him?” Becca asked, getting straight to the point of the matter. Henry blushed even harder.
“I am trying to protect you both,” he whispered.
William didn’t care if he was seen with Becca. Let the people talk, all he wanted was to be with her, but she suddenly nodded. With that movement, he stopped walking, feeling as if he had been kicked in the gut.
“Yes, I understand,” she murmured softly. “I would not want the news to reach my father and for him to misunderstand. We cannot go together to Stockbridge.”
“But I could go for you, my lord,” Henry declared, stepping forward with purpose. “Send me to make your inquiries. I will send word to you of what I find, and I will be back within a few days.”
This was not the plan William had had in mind. He couldn’t deny that the thought of he and Becca together at an inn for the night had roused all sorts of imaginings and stirrings. The possibility of sharing a bed with her completely made him heated, but the serious way in which she was staring at him now made all such thoughts vanish.
We cannot take that risk.
“Very well, Henry, you go. I would trust no other to do this for me.”
“You are staring.” Becca laughed, looking up from her work. It had been two days since the butler had left to begin his inquiries in Stockbridge, and in that time, she and William had spent even more time together. She half wondered if William felt somewhat freer without his butler around to invite her constantly to the house.
“Am I? My apologies,” he whispered, offering his arm to her. She took it gladly, smiling up at him as he led her through the grounds of his estate. The sun was rising now, shining brightly down upon them. She had arrived early, ready to work, but before she could put ink to paper, William had swept her outside, saying it was too fine a day to be indoors all the time. “I have a habit of staring, I think.”
“Why do you stare?”
“Do you need ask?” he whispered playfully, escorting her around the nearest tree and to a path that led deeply through the woods. “You seem to have that power over me.”
“Power!” She laughed at the idea. “Little me? Power? I think you have mistaken me for someone else.”
“Indeed, I have not. You have power that uniquely belongs to you.” He brought them to a sudden halt and took her hand from his arm, lifting it between them. He held her gaze the whole time as he kissed the back of her hand, then moved his lips up her wrist and offered a more intimate kiss to the soft skin there.
“Your groundsman may see us,” she whispered, though there was no real fear in her voice.
“Let him,” he said offhandedly, moving his lips higher up her arm.
“You’re tempting me, Will.”
“As you tempt me, every day. There is no one out here to see us, Becca.” He shifted toward her, pulling on her arm a little until her body shifted against his own. Just the lightest of pressures, the feeling of his hips against hers, had memories stirring.
She thought of the way he had stared at her as he pleasured her, the heat in his cheeks, the brightness of his eyes as his hand had reached inside of her, sating that constant ache she felt for him.
“Will,” she whispered, wondering if she was on the cusp of begging him to do something about her need for him again when they were in the middle of the woods.
“Becca, I have something to ask you. Something which I am almost afraid to ask.”
