Page 5 of Scars of a Passionate Revenge
“No indeed, I am quite delighted to have been brought such an array of treats.” He looked at the plate of apple pastries and scones on the bed next to him. “Although I am sure that I shall not be able to eat all of that!”
Sarah gave him a shy smile, then withdrew from the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
He took a sip of tea and enjoyed the sweet taste. He did always prefer the way Alice made it, although he would never admit that to Dorothea, of course. She would not like it at all! But she constantly nagged him about having too much sugar; she said it was not good for him. And she meant well, naturally.
He wondered for a moment why Alice had not brought him the tea himself. He had seen very little of his daughter lately, since he had been kept to his room for the last few days, and he would have liked to see her today and to chat with her.
He heard footsteps outside his room, and he wondered for a moment if it was Alice coming to see him. He tried to suppress the feeling of disappointment that fluttered in his chest when he saw Dorothea standing there instead.
“You have tea!” she declared. “Who brought you all that?”
“Hello, my dear,” the baron greeted her. “One of the maids brought it up for me,” he said simply. She looked rather tense, and he did not want to wind her up any further. He knew that if he told her it was from Alice, she would become even more annoyed.
“What are they doing bringing you cakes, for heaven’s sake?” Dorothea said. “It is the last thing you should be eating, with your health as fragile as it is!”
“I rather thought the opposite, I must confess,” the baron replied. “I was hoping that the nourishment might help me to get my strength up. I was just thinking that I would like to accompany you and Alice to the ball next week. I feel that I have not supported her as much as I should have done this Season.”
Dorothea scoffed. “It is entirely out of the question for you to go to a ball, when you have been so ill that you have been stuck in bed for days. I do not know where you get this nonsense from.”
The baron raised an eyebrow and looked up at his wife. She had a sharp tongue at the best of times, but she seemed to be taking things a little far today. “I think I can make the decision myself, as to whether I am well enough to go to a ball, don’t you think?”
She looked back at him, and he saw something soften slightly in her face. “Of course, My Lord,” she said, in a much gentler tone. “It is only that I worry about you so much, you know. I do not want your health to take a turn for the worse. I do not know what we would do without you if… well, if the unthinkable happened!” She reached up and wiped at her eyes, although the baron did not think he had seen any tears springing forth.
“I worry about Alice, that is all,” he said. “I worry that I have not been there for her as I should. I have missed so many things. And she must marry soon. She needs someone to steer her through the process, to help her to make the right decisions.”
Dorothea stood up a little straighter and puffed out her chest. “I am more than capable of standing in for you on that matter, My Lord. I pray that you do not allow yourself to worry about her. I will make sure that she does not do anything wrong, or do anything to embarrass us.”
“Oh, I did not mean that!” the baron insisted. “I am sure that she would never do anything to embarrass the family. She is a good girl, and she has been well brought up for her position in society. But I do wonder…” He paused for a moment and stared out of the window, seeming momentarily to be lost in thought. “I do wonder if perhaps I could have been a better father to her.”
Dorothea scoffed. “Nonsense, My Lord. She has wanted for nothing, and she lives here in this fine house and does not have to lift a finger. The least she could do is make a bit of effort when it comes to finding a husband!”
The baron looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I spoke with her this morning, about her behavior last night. She refused to dance with Lord Grisham last night. You know, the son of Lord Riversdale!”
The baron let out a bark of laughter, which was followed by a small coughing fit. “Quite right too!” he declared with a wry smile. “Lord Grisham is an ass, if ever I saw one, and so is his father. Alice was quite right to refuse him.”
Dorothea looked a little shocked. “He is a very eligible bachelor,” she muttered. “She could do a lot worse.”
“And she could do a lot better!” the baron insisted. “The son of an earl or not, he is an ass, and I would not want her to marry someone so idiotic. And she must make her own choice, though of course she may need a little guidance.” He pushed himself up so that he was sitting a little straighter in bed.
“Now, I am going to eat my cakes and drink my tea. I find that I am determined to be strong enough to go to the Riversdale ball, if only to see Alice turn the earl down again!”
Dorothea sniffed. “You do talk such silliness sometimes,” she said, then seemed to remember herself again. “But of course, My Lord, you must do as you wish. I will leave you to your cakes, and come and see you later with some more tea.”
The baron smiled at her, resisting the urge to ask her to put more sugar in it this time. “Thank you, my dear,” he said smoothly. “I shall look forward to it.”
Chapter 3
Benedict tried to relax as he surveyed the scene on the threshold of the ballroom. It was just another ball, he told himself. He must act naturally, as if he had nothing on his mind beyond drinking champagne and dancing with the young ladies of theton.
Next to him, Cecil chuckled. “You look like you’re going into battle, my friend, rather than into a ballroom.”
“It is a battle,” Benedict muttered, as they made their way down the ornate staircase and into the ballroom itself. They were not late by any means, but the room was packed already. The Riversdale Ball was one of the most important events of the Season, and everyone in society wanted to be there. There was no way that the Baron of Danneville would be absent from such a significant gathering.
He scanned the room, realizing as he did so that his suspicions had been correct. He was not going to be able to recognize the baron, even if he saw him. His memories of the weeks and months before the fire had never fully returned to him, and his recollection of the baron’s appearance was hazy at best.
He turned to Cecil. “You will have to introduce me, Chalmers, when we see him. It is just as I thought. I cannot recall what the man looks like.”
