Page 78 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
The book was published at the beginning of the week, and since then, it seemed not a soul was unable to talk about it. It had been reported on extensively in the papers and in the scandal sheets.
Mr. Reginald Baxter’s writing prowess had been praised widely, and the tale of George Dorset was regarded as something incredible indeed. More than once this last week, William hadcallers at his door, including Lady Heather, intent on seeing him, but he’d had Henry send them all away, explaining this was to be Alexander’s home now.
Lady Heather had even tried to write to him, an improper thing indeed, though she had done so, nevertheless. She had clearly set her cap at him and was more determined than ever now she had discovered he was the heir to an earldom.
“It feels wrong, you know,” Alex said, taking the plainer cravat that was presented to him by the valet.
“The cravat?” William asked, turning back to face him.
“No. The fact that she will not be at this ball when she is the one who wrote the book.”
“She would not come if I asked her,” William said in a heavy tone. “I have not managed to see her since.”
“I know,” Alex murmured, sadness mirrored in his own tone.
They didn’t talk much about Becca, and William rather thought it was because Alex could see what was in his heart without having to ask the question. It was easier not to talk of Becca with others, for William was already tormented by thoughts of her at night.
His dreams were full of her. Either they were heated dreams where he relived the way they had made love together, their limbs tangled as they moaned one another’s names, or he dreamed of waking up in bed beside her, feeling free to love her without judgment or walls between them. Then he would wake and realize that the dream was a distant thing, impossible to touch or reclaim.
“There, how’s that?” Alex said and turned to face William again. “Will I do?”
“Yes, you look very fine indeed. You are dressed perfectly for a ball.”
Yet Alex continued to fidget.
“I did the same thing at my first ball.” William nodded at him. “They are hardly where I feel most natural either.”
“Where do you feel most natural?”
“Walking the grounds, maybe in the library, with—” he broke off, just stopping himself in time from saying Becca’s name. “Anyway, I shall go and check on my father and your mother and see how they are getting on with their preparations.”
“Very well.” Alex thanked him again, and as the valet approached, trying to put Alex’s boots on for him, Alex snatched them away. “I shall put my own shoes on. Some things will not change.”
William walked out of the room, chuckling. He walked through the house, and the more distance he got from Alex’s room, the more his mood fell sharply into a deep gloom.
He found he was able to put on an appearance of contentment around others. After all, he had everything he had asked for, did he not? The book had been published, and now the world knew the truth about George Dorset.
Strangely, now, it is not enough.
He heard his father’s voice and walked toward it in the drawing room, stepping inside to find Sarah had put on a new gown. She was pulling at it most uncomfortably, worried about how she would look at this ball as she blushed red in the face.
“Maybe this is not such a good idea,” she said, turning to face Lord Longfellow with a panic-stricken expression. “All the ladies will be looking down on me. I do not belong with them.”
“Why don’t you?” Lord Longfellow asked with a shrug. “You are invited. Therefore, you belong. I do not believe that money gives you tickets into rooms. You are invited, and that is enough.”
“Not everyone thinks as kindly as you do,” Sarah murmured and adjusted her gown once more.
William looked down beside him at a small table where there was a stack of books. The front cover of the top book could be easily read, ‘The True Tale of the Life and Deceptions of George Dorset.’William reached for the book and lifted the cover.
He’d read it many times now and thought Becca had quite outstripped his expectations in the brilliance of her writing, but still, he lifted the cover to find her name. Nevertheless, he didn’t find it. He found, instead, her pseudonym, Mr. Reginal Baxter. The absence of her name made him lower the cover once more.
“Oh, William.” Sarah ran toward William across the room, suddenly noticing he was there. “What do you think?” She turned in a circle in her pale blue gown. “I would like to blend in at this ball. I will not stand out dressed like this, will I?”
“You look lovely,” William said, forcing a smile.
“You are a good man.” She laid a hand on his arm with a warm smile. “I must go to change. The maid you have arranged for me keeps insisting I must not get this dirty before Saturday night.”
As she left the room, the door swung shut behind her, and William exchanged an amused look with Lord Longfellow.
