Page 60 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
Becca swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. Not only was it an analogy she had used in her own mind to think of the distance between them, but it also made her think of something in the letters exchanged between Anne and Lord Longfellow. Anne had addressed her lover as ‘my stars.’ Maybe that was how she saw him, now beyond her reach?
“I am sorry,” Frederick whispered. “This was clearly not what you hoped to hear.”
“It is much what I expected, though.” She sighed and stood from her seat. “Thank you, Father. You have brought me comfort.”
“Have I? It does not feel like it.”
“No, no, you have. You have assured me of something now. Something I had to come to terms with. If you don’t mind, I will retire early this evening. Goodnight, Father.”
As they said their well wishes, she left the room and headed toward the staircase. She passed Franny on the way, who came to clear the table and looked at her with the same piercing gaze she had adopted over the last few weeks. Becca tried to disarm her with a smile, but it was one that didn’t last, and Franny’s expression soon changed to one of concern.
“Do you need anything, Miss Becca? Would you like some cocoa brought up?”
“Thank you, no. Goodnight, Franny.”
“Goodnight.”
Becca went to her room in silence. She lit a candle to keep her company and sat down on the edge of her bed, looking around at the lonely room. The poor and basic furnishings were a far cry from the grand furnishings she had become accustomed to in William’s house. Soon enough, she’d have to get used to not being around such furniture.
“He will not marry me,” she murmured aloud with a sigh. “He is now the son of an earl.” She closed her eyes, realizing that William was not just a baron with fine lands, but heir to all the lands that now belonged to the Earl of Longfellow.
William would soon be the most eligible bachelor in London, and he would be loved, too, once her book was published, revealing the truth behind George Dorset, as William endeavored to repay the men conned by him.
“As distant as the stars.” She didn’t bother undressing. She pulled herself back on the bed, kicking off her shoes, and pulled the blankets up over her shoulder. She blew out the candle and tried to sleep in the darkness, but her tears kept on coming, holding sleep at bay.
Chapter 22
“You are in jest?”
“I’m not. It’s the honest truth,” Lord Longfellow said between his fits of laughter. “I met the actor himself backstage once. A finer performance ofMacbethI have never seen.”
William appeared in awe as he stared at his father. They were speaking of great actors from the stage and, in particular, one William had always wanted to see but never had the chance to see thanks to George keeping him imprisoned in the house.
As Lord Longfellow regaled William with the tale of meeting the actors, the two of them sharing fruitcake, which clearly was a favorite for them both, Becca sat a short distance away. She was looking through the letters exchanged between Lord Longfellow and Anne, including some more that Lord Longfellow had given her for her research for the book.
In the pile of letters was the last one Anne had sent to Lord Longfellow, and she could see at once why Lord Longfellow had not understood that Anne was trying to offer a cryptic clue to the fact her son was, in fact,theirson.
Anne had not said the matter plainly at all. Instead, her letter made little sense from one sentence to the next. Becca ratherwondered if she had written the letter in a rush when she was being forced to pack to go to the convent.
My stars, there is much you should know. If I could tell you. If I could be there with you. No time. No time at all! I’m to be gone. His orders.
My poor boy. If only he knew. There is so much for him to know, too.
Pray, come and see me. I must see you.
“What a heartfelt letter,” Becca whispered to herself. It pained her just reading poor Anne’s words. She was either so panicked, ill, or sad that she could not make much sense in her letter.
Lifting her head from the letter, Becca looked across the room. William and Lord Longfellow were now exchanging quotes from another of their favorite Shakespeare plays,The Comedy of Errors.Becca smiled as she watched William laugh.
There had always been the chance that in finding his true father, the two might not have been alike at all. They might have found it as difficult to get along as she did with Lady Heather but far from it. The two gentlemen were so alike that they slotted together, perfect friends, both increasingly in wonder as they discovered more about one another.
“Let’s go, hand in hand, not one before the other.” As Lord Longfellow completed the quote, Becca smiled to herself.
She looked at the letters in her lap and realized there was a possibility for their project.
Maybe this book does not have to be about George Dorset alone.
“William?” she called across the room.
