Page 81 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
“Here, listen to this one. This one calls the book The Tale of the Year. This one, The Tale of Decade. Pah! They praise it so much. Well done, love. Well done indeed.” Frederick kissed Becca’s forehead, and she laughed, reaching for the scandal sheets next.
“Oh, this is wonderful.” Franny waved a hand in front of her face, looking on the verge of tears. “I shall cook us a bigger breakfast. We need something to celebrate.”
“Franny, that is not necessary,” Becca called after her, but she was already out of the room, dabbing her eyes with her apron as she cried happy tears. Becca read from the scandal sheet again as she turned to her father.
“Listen to this, ‘To read of the truth of George Dorset is not just the bombshell of the Season for theton,but the revelation of dark shadows that should have long ago been brought into the light. Mr. Reginald Baxter’s skill truly merits the story. This writer is eager to meet him, but alas, I can find no more news of his location than I can a unicorn.’”
Frederick laughed along with her.
They bundled the articles and sheets together, sitting at the table and reading them each in turn. When they were finished, exchanging wonderment and joy at how well the piece was received, Frederick’s smile faded a little.
“What is it?” Becca asked. “Today is a good day, Father. Let nothing dampen today.”
“There is one thing that may do, I am not sure.” He reached for the sealed letter he had discarded beside him and turned it over, holding it in the air. She now saw it was addressed to her, and the handwriting was one she knew well. Her mouth turned dry as she stared at the letter. Her father promptly then flipped the letter over, revealing the seal imposed into the wax. “I believe that is Baron Lancaster’s seal, yes?”
She nodded, unable to find words.
“I admit, I was tempted to throw it on the fire, for I feared this would upset you, but I could not keep such a secret from you.” He laid the letter down in front of her. “It arrived for you this morning.”
She snatched it up, tearing open the wax seal. As she did so, something fell out of it. A golden brooch glittered as it clattered onto her plate. She busied herself reading the note as her father picked up the brooch.
“A beautiful thing,” he observed. “A good gift for a writer.”
“I…” She lowered the letter a few inches. “He wishes me to go to a ball this weekend. He says it is a celebration of the book.” She closed up the letter, not wanting her father to see the part about Baron Lancaster wanting to speak to her alone. She knew well enough he would fear what such a thing meant.
Though she had told her father she loved William, she had not given even the slightest of hints that they had transgressed as much as they had done together or been so often alone without a chaperone.
“Well? Do you wish to go?”
She blinked as she stared at him, startled by the question.
“You thought I would stop you?” He smiled rather sadly. “Becca, you know your own mind. You have always done exactly as you please, and has it not worked in your favor?” He gestured down at the newspapers beside them that praised her book. “I want you to do as you wish, but if you would permit me one thing. If you do intend to go to this ball, at least let me be the one to drive you to this house and drive you back again.”
She smiled at her father and leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek.
“Thank you, Father.”
“I take that as a yes? You are going?”
She nodded and took the brooch from her father, turning it over in her fingers. Her stomach quaked with nerves, and somethinginside of her told her this was a risky thing to do, but she couldn’t help it.
William had asked most particularly for her to go, and how could she refuse him? She had no intention of turning him down when she missed him this much.
***
“Now, if you need me, send someone outside to find me, yes?” Frederick said under his breath as he pulled up the carriage they had borrowed for the evening onto the track in front of Lord Longfellow’s house. It took her a moment to answer, for she was so busy admiring Lord Longfellow’s house and how it had been transformed for the event.
There were flaming torches on either side of the door, and flowers trailed over the front steps and under the windows. Staff greeted guests at the front door all wearing masks. Hastily, Becca lifted the mask from her lap and held it up to her face. Frederick reached behind her head and helped to tie it for her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “and yes, if I need you, I’ll send for you.”
“Good.” He took her hand and squeezed once, an uneasy and nervous smile on his face. “Or just start shouting, and I’ll come running.”
“I love you, Father.” She kissed him on the cheek and stepped down from the carriage, nervously adjusting the gown she wore. Once more, Charlotte had managed to arrange for her to borrow a gown from the local modiste.
This one was dark red, very different to the fashionable pastel colors that so many ladies of thetonwore, but it contrasted the gold hues of the brooch perfectly. Becca fussed with the short sleeves, her worry growing by the minute as she approached the house. She blended in with the other guests who approached the door, but glanced back at her father, who nodded at her encouragingly.
At the door, she found the servants weren’t checking invitations, and she was welcomed inside.
