Page 55 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
This seemed to deliver more shock than anything. Unable to sit still, Lord Lancaster was on his feet. He walked around the table, hesitated, turned back to look at William, then walked on again.
“It’s not possible. I have misunderstood. That is the only explanation.”
“My lord.” Becca raised herself from her chair and went to intercept him as he walked around the table. “Please, do be seated. I am sorry if our presence has caused you pain.”
“Pain? Pain? Far from it. Confusion, yes, certainly, though I scarcely believe it…” He trailed off and looked at William again.
Once more, William was reminded of that moment in the woods as a child, pulling at his mother’s skirt and pointing at the man through the trees.
“I…” Lord Lancaster looked at Becca, appearing to try and get a hold of himself. “Miss Thornton, what can I do for the two of you? There must be some other purpose.”
“Allow me to explain a little.” Becca looked at William, clearly seeking his approval. William found he didn’t know what to say at all, so he was only glad of her offer of help and nodded. “Lord Lancaster here is endeavoring to discover more about his father, the late Baron Lancaster, George Dorset.”
The earl sat down in his seat rather like a sack of potatoes, heavy and without much strength. His eyes shot to William, though he still leaned toward Becca, plainly paying attention to every word she said. She sat down beside him before she went on.
“I have been attempting to help him in his research, and during our research, we have uncovered some secrets. Some things the world does not know.” Once more, Becca looked at William for approval. He nodded, urging her on.
He had expected her to talk of the marriage certificate they found between George and Sarah, but to his surprise, she reached into her reticule and pulled out something else altogether. She found the bundle of letters they had found in his father’s room, tied in a ribbon. She had returned them to that ribbon.
“We are trying to find out more about these, my lord.” She placed the letters down on the table between them. “Do you know anything about these?”
Where is she going with this?
William reached for the letters, but before he could do so, the Earl of Longfellow snapped them up. He untied the ribbon as if he had done so a hundred times before, then opened the first letter. His eyes darted across the words, and he made a small sound that sounded more like an animal’s whimper than a man’s voice at all. The strong man William had seen when he entered the house was now somewhat depleted.
“You do not know for how long I have wanted to see these again.”
“Again?” William repeated.
What does he mean by that?
“Forgive me, Lord Lancaster. May I also ask another personal question of you. What is your Christian name?”
William didn’t answer at first. He wanted some answers to his own questions and was tired of feeling as if he was staring into adark pit without any sunlight to fall on the mysteries in his life. Becca waved a hand at him, urging him to answer the earl.
“William. My name is William.”
Lord Longfellow bent forward over his letter. His eyes welled with tears, and William realized with horror that the poor man was about to cry. Becca raised a hand and placed it on the earl’s shoulder.
“I am so sorry to cause you pain, my lord,” she whispered.
“I do not know what it is I feel, Miss Thornton, but pain? It is not that. Relief, wonder, understanding at last, perhaps. Oh, William.” He addressed William by his Christian name so suddenly that William flinched in his seat. “If I had known what she had meant in her final letter…”
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, my lord. Please, to avoid any further confusion, can you tell me at once what you know of these letters belonging to my father?”
“Your father?” Long Longfellow laughed through his tears. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his cheek, dabbing away those tears. “These never belonged to your father. They were your mother’s, and they were written by me.”
Chapter 20
This isn’t possible.
Despite the thought, William could not articulate it. He was too busy staring at Lord Longfellow in wonder, questions filling his mind.
Had he been Anne’s lover? If that was the case, how long had it gone on? Why were the letters in George’s chamber rather than Anne’s? Did Lord Longfellow love his mother, or was this all some sordid affair?
In the silence, William urged himself to say something. He parted his lips, about to say something, when the door opened.
“Here we are,” Horace said stiffly, walking in and carrying a tea tray.
