Page 82 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
The decorations from outside had been continued inside, too. The vast candelabras were trailed in white flowers, as were the table and the walls. There seemed hardly a surface that was not decked with scented petals. She walked past these grand displays further into the ballroom, but did not dare walk far in.
The great ballroom was full of people. They all wore masks, their identities somewhat difficult to identify and others impossible to know in this crowd. Many hurried to the dance floor, leaping into fast cotillions and dramatic quadrilles as a violin quartet struck up the music.
Nearby, she spied someone struggling with their mask. Alexander Brackley lowered the mask from his face, fiddling with it, struggling to attach it again, yet the momentary reveal of his face was enough. Many ladies and gentlemen moved toward him.
“It’s Alexander Brackley.”
“It’s him! Mr. George Dorset’s son.”
Alexander was practically backed into a corner at the eagerness of people to know him.
Becca stepped forward with concern for him, tempted to intervene to protect him, though in truth, she knew no idea what to do to help him. She soon saw, though, that she did not need to worry. One of the gentlemen must have done something to put Alexander at his ease, for as he fidgeted with his mask, the group fell into easy conversation. Becca stepped closer to overhear a little of their discussion.
“I have so longed to meet you ever since I read the book,” said one soft-mannered gentleman. “What a life, what a life to come to as well. I’d be fascinated to hear everything from your point of view, sir. I hear you were a clerk, too. I have such experience in things, for I was a lawyer myself before my uncle left me his own fortune.”
This news of like-minded people clearly pleased Alexander greatly, for he smiled broadly and launched into his tale.
Becca stepped away, eager to find another now that she had seen Alexander. Standing on her toes, she craned her neck, looking back and forth through the crowd for a glimpse of William. Had he disguised himself so well with a mask that she would not recognize him?
Surely, I’ll know him anywhere after all we have shared.
Then another met her gaze. She halted in the middle of the floor, for a lady stood a few feet away from her.
Lady Heather had taken no great pains to hide her identity. Her mask was of the slimmest style, barely covering her eyes at all, and her slicked-back, dark auburn hair was as familiar as it always had been.
Through her mask, her eyes pinned Becca to the spot.
Becca stepped back, but Lady Heather stepped forward, advancing toward her. Suddenly frightened, fearing Lady Heather recognized her and would call her out for the poor woman she truly was, Becca spun on her heel and tried to escape. She hastened across the room, slipping through thecrowd as best as she could, heading for another door, anywhere to escape.
She was about to reach the door leading out onto the garden when she found it blocked by a group of ladies talking together, their heads bowed close. Lady Heather was getting closer now, and Becca couldn’t afford to be called out in front of such an audience. She darted off to the side, heading back to the front door of the ballroom, when a hand suddenly caught her own.
“Oh!” She turned, gasping as her eyes found a pair of rich brown eyes met her own through a dark black mask.
“This way,” William whispered at her, casting a quick look behind her, where he had clearly also noticed Lady Heather following her.
They darted through another side door in the room, then William drew her down a corridor.
“Will?” she whispered in panic, trailing behind him. From the ballroom, the music and chatter still reached her ears. William said nothing; apparently all the noise had drowned out her voice. “William? Why am I here? Truly?”
“All will be explained shortly.” Rather than pulling her back toward the ballroom through another door, he towed her away instead. They walked up the staircase of the house, scarcely avoiding one lady who must have become lost on her way to finda privy. They hid in an alcove, neither of them saying a word, before William drew her out again and along the corridor.
Becca recognized the corridor from the night she had spent in this house. William led her to his own chamber, opened the door, and pulled her inside.
“William!” she hissed in panic as they stepped in. “We should not be doing this.”
“I know.” He turned to face her with his hands held up in innocence.
“If anyone saw us…your reputation…oh God, what will people think?”
“I don’t care what they think—”
“Of course you do! We should return at once before anyone notices we are both missing.” She tried to walk around him fast, to leave the chamber, but he followed her all the way to the door, speaking as quickly as she was.
“I do not care what they think. Not anymore.” His voice was so firm that she hesitated by the door, turning back to face him. “Maybe I’ll be lambasted in the scandal sheets for this. Maybe some of thetonwill vow never to speak to me again, but I hardlycare.” He shrugged. “I am an illegitimate son. I hardly have any reason to be proud or think grandly of my own position, do I?”
“You’re not making any sense, Will,” she whispered as he crossed toward her. Tentatively, clearly fearing she would pull back, he took her hand and lifted it between them, their fingers sliding together.
It was the first touch she had known from him in weeks, and it made her shudder in longing for him.
