Page 67 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
“Yes, perhaps.” William felt even more uneasy at the idea. He didn’t want to feel like some grand lord of the manor who flicked his fingers and demanded people come to him, but they had discussed their options over dinner, and it had seemed the only way to meet Sarah and Alexander Brackley.
Had William gone to visit them, it could have caused gossip in the village and suspicion. Best to bring them away to somewhere they could all meet in peace, without rumor and gossip spreading fast.
“It is a good decision, my lord,” Henry encouraged, his voice deep. “Very wise, I believe.”
“I hope you’re right.” They fell into silence for a few minutes as Becca and Henry finished their food, though William could not look at his own plate. He was looking at Becca instead, thinkingof how close they had been in the woods, how near they had been to exploring one another again.
The need for her burned inside of him, and he did not want to let it go.
“It is done.” Lord Longfellow returned to the room a few minutes later. He nodded solemnly and returned to his chair, suddenly offering up a small smile. “Rest yourself now, William. It is done, and tomorrow, we shall meet the pair of them.”
“Much has to change, does it not?” William whispered. None of them had spoken aloud of what the implications would be of all that they had discovered, but it was at the forefront of his mind how much had changed.
As Lord Longfellow intended to acknowledge William as his heir, William would be an earl someday. He would inherit the house he sat in and the title. He would still hold the title of the barony, too, through his mother, but as for the house he currently lived in, the money he called his own, it did not belong to him.
When Anne married George, her wealth became his. Now George had passed, it rightfully should pass to his nearest relative. That was Alexander Brackley.
I will have to give up my home and wealth, to take up a new position.
William’s eyes flicked to Becca again. He suddenly felt as if the table had grown by two feet, and they were at a much greater distance from one another than they had been before.
“May I make a suggestion?” Lord Longfellow declared after a minute or so. “Stay here tonight, all of you.” He looked between them. “It is growing late as it is, and you will be coming back in the morning regardless. Stay,” he pleaded, looking at William.
“Thank you. Yes, I’d like that.” William nodded. Something seemed so right about it, taking up the place in his new home when his old one belonged to another.
“I…I will return home.” Becca’s words made William jerk his head toward her.
Stay, Becca.
“If you insist, then I will arrange a carriage for you to take you home,” Lord Longfellow said strongly, “but I urge you to reconsider, Miss Thornton. This storm has grown worse this evening, and it would be a risk to send in the carriage. At least here, you would be safe.”
“And my father would be driven mad with worry,” she reminded him gently. “I could not worry him so.”
“Then let us send a message to him,” Lord Longfellow said hurriedly. “It is easier to get one horse through this weather than it is a whole carriage. Let us send him a message to say you are taking refuge at a friend’s house for the night and shall return tomorrow when the weather eases.”
She parted her lips, and for a minute, William was certain she would refuse them. He was ready to second his father’s argument, to plead with her to stay as well, then her eyes met his. Something passed between them across the table, something he could not put into words. Her lips closed, and when they opened again, she seemed to have changed her mind.
“Very well, but we must send the message at once. I do not want my father to worry for too long.”
“As you wish.” Lord Longfellow stood again and went to fetch paper and a quill.
***
Becca marched up and down the fine room with her eyes darting toward the row of candles placed on the mantelpiece that flickered with golden light. Those sunny hues shone in the beautiful room and upon its fine ornaments, making her feel increasingly out of place.
The grand chamber Lord Longfellow had given to her for the night was more suited to a duchess than a poor writer. She had suggested she was put in the servants’ quarters instead, but neither Lord Longfellow nor William would hear of it. She wandered around the fine four-poster bed, the heavily inlaid cupboards and coffers, then to the fireplace, so large that the flames within roared, fighting the chill from the storm outside.
Her eyes flickered to the mirror set above the mantelpiece, toward her reflection. Her hair was now loose around her shoulders, and she’d shed her gown and her corset, so she stood in her chemise alone.
“This is mad,” she murmured aloud.
She should be in bed by now, but she could not rest. The thought of sleep was impossible when she had seen William go into the bed chamber just a few doors down in the corridor.
A light knock on the door startled her. She spun around, moving toward the door fast.
“Who is it?” she whispered, placing her head near the door.
“Please let me in before someone sees me out here, Becca.”
