Introduction
The fiery Becca, a commoner and a mysterious writer, yearns to explore the scandalous lives of the ton Writing under a pseudonym,shedreamsofunveilingaristocraticsecrets.Whenaninvitationbyastrangerpromisesanopportunitytoexposea baron'sconcealedtruths,Beccaistemptedtobreakalltherulesofthepasttoexperienceherdream.However,asshedelves intothewickedbaron'sworld,ambitiontakesabackseattoanunexpecteddesirethatthreatenstoentwineherheart.
CanBeccaresisttheallureoftheenigmaticbaron?
William,finallyfreedfromhisfather'sinfluenceanddeceptivepast,strivestoredeemthefamilyname.Whenanopportunityto publishabookandunearthallofhisfather’ssecretsarises,Williamiswary,untilhemeetsthealluringBecca Astheyjourney tounveil hiddentruths,Becca'sspiritandflameilluminatetheshadowsofthepast,makinghimcraveher stolenglancesand sinfultouch.Themoresecretsarerevealed,themoreWilliamcannotresisthispassionfortheseductivewriter.
CanhestayfocusedaroundBecca’sscandalousquill?
AsBeccaandWilliam’smomentsblossomintoanirresistiblebond,unearthingthedarkhistoryofhisfather,eachrevelation teststhelimitsoftheir flamingromance.Inaworldtaintedbyscandal anddeception,theyconfrontthepasttoforgeafuture where passionate love triumphs over convention Will William forsake the ton's approval to claim Becca's heart, or will lineagesecretstearthemapart?
London, England, 1811
“Oh, myapologies!” Becca called as she ranthroughthe backstreets of London. The poor grocer boyshe had darted past yelped in surprise, throwing one of the apples out of his tray Becca managed to catch it in time, pushing it back into the woodentraybeforeshewasoffagain.
“Watchwhereyou’regoing,miss!”theboyshoutedafterher,butshedidn’thavetimetoslowdown.
Sheonlyhadamatteroftimetogetthepaperstothepublisher.Sheglanceddownattheratherlargereticuleinhergrasp.Old andtattered,themetalclaspstruggledtoshutfastthesedays,butitserveditspurpose.Largeenoughtostuffthepapersinside forherlatestarticle,itwoulddofornow.
Hitching the skirt of her poor gown up around her ankles, she sprinted down the next street, cutting through the market of CoventGarden.Already,atthisearlyhourofthemorning,theroadswerefullofsellers.
Ladiescarryingfreshmilkpailsontheirshouldersangledtheirheadstolookherwayasshehurriedpastthem,probablyjusta blurofdarkblondehairthatwasfallingoutofherupdo.Mengatheredatstallsbearingsaltedbeefandfreshoystersthathad reachedLondonthatmorningontheThamesalsolookedherway
Sheignoredthemall Usuallyentrancedbytheexcitementinthestreetsandhowthepeoplerantheirdays,shewouldoftensit inthisstreetandwatchpeoplegoabouttheirbusiness.
Shedarteddownanotherstreet,oneshehopedwouldbequieter,andendedupinapartofLondonsheusuallylikedtoavoid. Thiswastheroadoccupiedbytheladiesofthenight,thosewhoofferedtheirbodiesupforaprice
TwopeoplepressedagainstawallmadeBeccastopsharply Theladyhadherskirtuparoundherhipsasthemanpressedup againsthermadesuchagutturalsound;itleftlittletotheimagination.
Beccabackedupashurriedlyasshecould,leavingtheroadquicklyandglancingbackonlyonce.Her faceblushedred,and shelaughed,tryingtohidethesoundbehindherglovedhandasshemovedonagain.
Growingup inthe streets of London, Becca had seenmanysuchthings quite byaccident What menand womencould do together was somethingshe was well aware of,thoughas she leftthis road,strangely,she felta curiositymakingher glance backagain.Itwasacurioussensationshehadneverhadbefore,butfor thefirsttime,shewonderedwhatitcouldbeliketo shareinsuchathing.
Shakingher head, she shed suchthoughts fromher mind and returned to the busystreets ofCoventGarden. These were the roads she preferredtooccupy Sometimes,she wouldsitfor hours towatchpeople goabouttheir business Mostofall,she wasinterestedinthemembersofthe ton whowouldwanderintothemarketlaterintheday.
Theladieswalkedwiththeirnoseshigh,theirlady’smaidsfollowingbehindthemcarryingboxesfromthemodisteshops.The teahousesalsofascinatedher,filledwithladiesandgentlemen,eithersharingthemostfashionabletealeavesbroughtinfrom IndiaandChina,orhotchocolatetowarmtheirbonesinthesewintermonths
“Watch out!” another man called to Becca as she rounded a corner, narrowly missing colliding with the man’s nose as he wavedintheairwiththeearly-morningpaper.Thesightoftheready-printedpapersmadeherstomachknotallthemore.
“My apologies,” she called, skirting around himand avoiding the papers and the boys who stood behind him, demanding moneywiththeiropenpalmsdirtiedwithmud.
Attheendoftheroad,shecouldseeherdestination,atlast.Peoplewanderedbackandforthinfrontofit,all toobusywith theirownbusinesstonoticethetinyred-brickbuilding,pressedbetweenothers,withthechimneyssmokingfromtherooftops. Thosefiresnotonlykepttheworkersinsidetheprinthousewarmbutkeptthemachineryandprintingpressesgoing,too.
Beccareachedfor thedoor,butfounditlocked,theoldcoldhandlepressingthroughher thinglove.Aparticular holeinher glove,frayedandtornfromyearsofuse,madethecoldmorenoticeableonthepalmofherhand
“Oh,no,”shemumbled,knockingrelentlesslyonthedoor Shedidn’tdesist,butjustkeptknocking,fearfulthatherfrantictap wouldnotbeheardabovetheclackingofthemachinerybeyondthedoor.
“Thatyou, Becca?” a voice called frominside, heavilyaccented withthe notes ofEastLondonthatwere all so familiar to Beccathesedays.
“Charlotte?I’mhere,I’mhereatlast”
“Youdoliketoleaveitclosetothewirethesedays,eh?”ThedooropenedandthefaceofCharlotteSandersappearedonthe othersideofthedoor Herdarkauburnhair,sweptupbehindherhead,hadalooselycurlingfringeacrossherforehead,which onlywentalittlewaytomaskingtheinkstainsthatdappledherforeheadandcheeks.
ShewipedsuchinkstainsfromherfingersonherprintingapronasshehumorouslylookedBeccaupanddown “Well,Miss RebeccaThornton,whattimedoyoucallthis?”
“Youturningintoyourmother?”Beccaasked,clutchingherchestasshetriedtocatchherbreath
“Slowly,Iam.”Charlottechuckled.“Thisway.Asalways,mymotherhasbeenmitherin’toreadyourwritin’.”
Beccasmiledathergoodfriend’swarmaccentasshesteppedintotheprinthouse,allowingthedoortoclosebehindher
“DidImissit?”Beccaaskedinapanic,reachingintoherreticuleandpullingoutherpapers
“No,butyoudidn’tleaveitfaroff,mindyou.”Charlotteeyedherwarily,herdarkgreeneyesnarrowingtoslitsassheledthe waythroughthefrontoffice.
Becca barelyglanced at the office, for it was somethingof a front for if theyever had a member of the ton come to their establishment Mostworkwasconductedinthebackroomsandintheprinthouseitself,forCharlotte’sparentshadnoqualms andfalseairsabouttheirbusiness.Theypreferredtobehands-on,andasCharlotte’smothersaid,‘Noonewillseethework throughbutourselves.’ItwassuchalessonthatBeccahadtakenittoheartyearsago.
If I had not pushed my own writing, I still wouldn’t have been published.
“Comeon,let’sseeitthen.”Charlottehaltedatthefarendoftheprinthouse.Acrosstheroom,themetalletterswereclacking outearlydraftsofthe Sanders’Periodical,whichhadbeenrunningnearlytwentyyearsnow,ever sinceCharlottewasborn, andherfatherknewhehadtodosomethingtobringinmoremoneyforthefamily
“Hereitis.”Beccareachedforthepapersinherreticuleandhandedthemover.
“Youbeenrunnin’again?”Charlotteasked,takingthepapersbutkeepinghereyesonBecca.
“Perhaps”Beccasmiled,promptingCharlottetolaughbeforeshefinallylookedatthepapers
“What’sthisarticleabout?Ah,CoventGarden!Yourfavoritesubject.”Shegiggledasshereadthecaricature-likedescriptions oftheladiesintheteahouse,talkingloudlyandflittingtheirheadsbackandforthlikebirdstwittering,anillusiononlyhelped bystuffingtheirupdoswithfeathers.
“Yes,myfavoritesubject,”Beccawhispered,chewingherlip AsshewaitedforCharlottetoreadthearticle,sheturnedthis thoughtoverinhermind.Shelongedtoknow moreaboutthe ton, toseewhattheworldwastrulylikefromwithinit.“Ijust feel as if whenI amlookingat the members of the ton, I amlike a child withtheir nose pressed against the window of a confectioner’s.I’malwayslookingin.”
“Youwanttobeapartofthe ton?Pah!”Charlottelaughedandsatdownonsomeofthemachinery,hoppingupontoalevelso thatshewasatBecca’sheight.Becca,unusuallytall,oftentoweredover Charlotteunlessshefoundsomesortofplatformto standorsiton.
“No,no.Whowouldwanttobeapartofthat?”Beccawrinkledhernose.“No,thankyou.Ihardlywishtobethatproud.”
“Notallofthemcanbeproud”
Beccaraisedhereyebrows.Shewasnotsoconvinced.Asmuchasshewasfascinatedbytheirworld,shehadnothadmuch experiencewiththe ton Whatexperienceshedidhavepersuadedherthattherewasquitealottobedesiredinsomeoftheir company.
Herownfather,alawyerandbusinessman,hadtalkedfrequentlyofhowhisbusinessaffairshadbeenaffectedbytheprideof gentlemeninthe ton. Morethanoncehadhebeencheatedoutofpayment,for somegentlemenknew thattogetaheadinlife, theyhadtoavoidpayingtheirbills
These days, her father preferred to work with the lower classes. He didn’t earn a lot of money, but he got satisfaction in workingformenwhodeservedalawyerdefendingtheircauses.
“Well,it’sbrilliant,”Charlottedeclared,“asitusuallyis.”Sherangabellnearby,andayoungboycamerunningin.Hecould benomorethanthirteenyears old,yethewas alreadyhardatworkintheprinthouse,withas muchinkacross his faceand handsasCharlottebore.“Takethistomymotherandfather,wouldyou,Skip?”
“Yes,MissCharlotte”Skipnoddedandtookthepapers,runningoffagain Hissmallheightmeanthecouldsqueezethroughthe tallmachinerywithease,disappearingfastthroughthesmokethatgrewoutofthefiresacrosstheroom.
“Whyareyousofascinatedwiththe ton anyway?” Charlotte asked as she
followher.Theyroundedsomeoftheprinterswithdifficulty,squeezingthemselvesintothesmallgapswhichSkiphaddarted throughwithease.“They’reprobablyjustlikeus,aren’tthey?”
“Arethey?”Beccawasn’tsosure.“You’vereadthescandalsheetsthatgetprintedaboutthe ton. Theyseemtofindmischief andgossipinthesmallestnumberofindiscretions.Wedon’tseemtobotherwithsuchthings.”
“No?” Charlotte stopped walking, turning to look back at her with raised eyebrows. “Do I need to remind you of what happenedwhenyoufirststartedwritin’?”
Becca didn’tanswer butstood there fidgetingwithher reticule, fiddlingwiththe brokenmetal clasp. She remembered well enoughthefurorthathadensuedwhenshehadwrittenapieceinherownname.Evenherfatherwastargetedbypeopleinthe streetswhothoughtitanillthingforthedaughterofalawyerandawomanwhohadbeenpracticallyabeggartostartwriting asifshewereaneducatedgentleman.
“Well,Isortedthat,didn’tI?”Beccaremindedherfriend.“OnlyyouandyourfamilyknowwhoIamnow.”
“Oh yes,” a voice called fromacross the print house, his deep voice competing with the machinery. “I see we have Mr. ReginaldBaxterinourmidst.”OneofCharlotte’selderbrothers,Jarvis,walkedtowardthem,strugglingevenmorethanthey haddonetomovearoundthemachinery.Heusedthepseudonymwithwhichshewroteallherarticlesintheirperiodical.“You toldheryet?”heasked,nudginghissisterwithhiselbow
“Notyet,”Charlottemumbled,lookingathimwithnarrowedeyes.“Iwasbuildin’uptoit.”
“Tellher.Itmeanslotsofmoney.”
“I will” Charlotte snatched the envelope fromhimand waved himaway with a flick of her hand He chuckled and left, followingthepathSkiphadtakenthroughtheroom,thoughheclamberedoverthemachineryinordertodoso.
“What’sgoingon?”Beccaasked,eyingtheenvelopethatCharlottenowturnedbackandforthinhergrasp
“It’s hard to explain. Evenharder to shoutover all this noise.” She looked angrilyatthe other end ofthe roomas Skip and JarvisstartedtolineuptheletterstoprintBecca’sarticle “Followme”
Charlottebackedupandheadedforadoorinthesideoftheroom.Sheburstthroughitquickly,withBeccafollowingbehind her InthisroomsatanotherofCharlotte’sbrothers Theyoungestofthelot,andnotmucholderthanSkip;hewascleaningout oldprintlettersbythefireplace,sittingonthestonehearthastheyhadnorug.Helookeduptiredlyattheirentrance,yawning widely.
“Makeyourselfscarce,Bernie,”Charlottesaidtohim,flickingherfingersbacktothedoor.
“Youthinkwe don’t know what you’re goin’to be talkin’about?” Bernie laughed, standingand collectingthe metal letters together.“It’saboutthatfineman,isn’tit?Theonewearingthenicesuitandcarryingthestick.Lookedlikeanillusionist.”
“Hmm.There’llbeanargumentaboutthis.”Heleft,castingaclearlywaryglancebackinBecca’sdirection.
Herstomachknottedatthatlook.Asthedoorclosed,BeccashiftedherfocusbacktoCharlotte.
“Whatisgoingon?”
Charlottesighed,nothurryingtoanswerasshesatonasmalldeskthatwaspressedintothecorneroftheroom Shelaidthe envelopedownbesideheronthedesk,thenliftedherheadandsighedasshelookedatBecca.
“Thiscouldeitherbeagreatopportunity,orsomethin’ill”
“Is there a pointanytime soonwhere youwill stop talkinginriddles?” Becca asked, placingher hands onher hips as she walkedtowardherfriend
“Amancametotheprinthouseyesterday.”
“Who?”
“Hedidn’tgivehisname”Charlotteshookherhead “Buthewaslookin’forMr ReginaldBaxter Hewantedtospeakwith thegreatwriterwhohadtakenLondonbystormwithhischaracterful,yettruthful,portrayalofpeopleinthestreets.”Shethrust afingertowardBecca
“Hewantedtospeaktome?”
“Yes”
“But…”
“Iknow,Iknow.”Charlotteheldherhandsupintheairininnocence.“Hehadnoideathenamewasanalias.Thatyouwere,in fact,awoman.Believeme,whenJarvisfirstexplainedsomeonewaslookin’foryou,Ipanicked.”
“Why?”
“Amanskulkin’about Covent Gardenlookin’for a lady?” Charlotte rolled her eyes “Onlyone reasonjumps to mind, and that’susuallylefttotheladiesinthatbackstreetofCoventGarden ”
“Yes,thankyou,Charlotte”Beccadismissedthewords Hermindcastbacktotheladyandmanshehadseentogetherinthe streetbeforeshethrustthethoughtaway.“Regardless,yousaidthismanwaslookingforMr.Baxter.”
“Hewas Ijusttoldhimthatameetingbetweenyoutwowouldbeimpossible Hekeptpushin’thepoint,andintheend,Jarvis askedwhyhewantedtomeetMr.Baxtersomuch?”
“And?”Beccamovedtostandbesidethedesk,nowhangingonherfriend’severyword
“AndhewantedtocommissionMr.Baxterforaproject.Fromwhathewaswearin’,finesuit,carryingthisposhlookin’stick, too,I’dsayitwasacommissiontowriteaboutthe ton, Becca.”
Shenearlydroppedherreticuleinsurprise.Shefumbledtocatchit.
“Well,youlooklike anexcitedpup” Charlotte laugheda little,thoughthe sounddiedquickly “WhenIrefusedtointroduce you,heofferedsomethingelseinstead.”ShepassedtheenvelopeintoBecca’shandandsaidnothingmore.Shejustwavedat Beccatoopentheenvelope.
Tearing through the red wax seal, Becca found inside there was a small card, written with heavy calligraphy, the sort of beautifulwritingshehadonlyseenincertainpapersinherfather’soffice.
“Aninvitation?”shereadaloud.“AninvitationtoanassemblyattheAlmack’sAssemblyRooms.God’sblood,whatonearth isthis?”
“Well,ifyou’regoin’tocirclewiththe ton, youmightwanttocurbyourstreetcurses,Becca.”
“But ”Beccatrailedoff,seeingtheinvitationwasnottheonlythingintheenvelope Therewasalsoasmallbroochmadeof solidsilver,engravedtolookliketwocrumpledautumnalleavesentwiningtogether.“Whatisthis?”shewhispered.
“Theycallitsilver”
“Charlotte!That’snotwhatImeant.”
“Iknow.”Charlotte’slipsflattenedtogetheroncemore.“Thegentlemanaskedthatyougototheassemblyifyouwishtomeet him.Hehasacommissionforyou,andhe’llpayhandsomelytohaveyouworkforhim.Ifyou’reinterested,heasksthatyougo andwearthatbroochsothathemightrecognizeyou”
Beccaloweredherhands,theinvitationandthebroochclutchedathersidesasshestaredforwardintonothing.
Thiswaseverythingshehadbeenhopingfor.Itwasachancetopeerpastthatwindowwhichwasbetweenherandtheworld ofthe ton, andanopportunitytoseewhattherealpeopleofthe ton werelikebeyondtheirstiffcollarsandcravats.Couldshe doit?Couldshereallymeetthisgentlemanandgothroughwithhisoffertowriteforhim?
“I’veneverwrittenforacommissionbefore Onlyeverforyourperiodical”
“Thereisanotherproblem!”Charlottesuddenlysaidloudly,makingBeccajumpinsurprise.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“You’redaft!”Charlotteexclaimed.“Don’tyouthinkthisgentlemanwillbesurprisedwhenyouturnup?You’renotquitethe Mr ReginaldBaxterhe’llbeexpecting,areyou?”
Beccafidgetedandglanceddownherbody.Shelookedatthegowncinchedatthewaistonhertallfigure,thebonnetthatshe
hadflungoverherwristwithtatteredribbons,andherbootsthatweredirtiedfromrunningthroughthestreets.Shethoughtshe sawabitofoystershellstucktothetoeofherbootandgrimaced.
“PerhapsI’mnot,”Beccamurmured.“He’llbeexpectingsomethingfiner.”
“Becca he’llbeexpectingaman,”Charlottepointedout,jumpingoffthedesk
“Iknow.” Becca sighed heavily. Evenifshe wentto meetthis man, once he realized thatshe was notMr. Baxter, butMiss Thornton,hemightretracthisofferatonce Worseyet,hecouldrevealhersecret Hecouldtellothersinthe ton thatthenow famousMr.Baxterwasawoman,afterall.
“So,areyougoingtodoit?”Charlotteasked,nudgingherforananswer “Areyougoingtomeethim?”
EverythinginBecca’sguttoldhernottogo.Itwasominousindeed,awell-dressedgentlemansearchingforawriterfromthe backstreetsofLondon Surely,anycommissionhehadtoofferhercouldbefornothinggood,orhewouldhavechosenoneof thewell-reputedgentlemenwritersofthe ton.
It bodes ill
“Well?”Charlotteasked,nudgingheragainwhenshedidn’tgetananswer.
YetBecca feltlike thatchild pressed againstthe window once again, her nose flattened to the glass. Evenifitcould spell misfortune,thechancetoseetheworldofthe ton, to go toa ball andpretend to be one ofthem, justfor a night, piquedher curiositytoomuch Sheraisedtheinvitation,readingitonceagain,hermindmadeupevenbeforethesmilegrewonherface
“You’llneedsomethingtowearthen,”Charlottemurmured,clearlyreadingtheansweronherfacebeforesheneededtosayit.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Williamasked.Hetriedtoflattenhis hair again,butitstooduponendas itwas wonttodo,thedark brownstrandscurlingcrazily.
My father would have hated that
Hetriedfranticallytoflattenitagainashisbutlerapproachedfrombehindhim,carryinghistailcoat “Itisafinesuit,myfriend,”Henrysaidwarmly.
Williammethiseyesinthereflectionofthemirror Henrywasonlyaboutfiveyearshissenior Hefirstcametothehouseas hisvalet,whenWilliamwasjustfifteenyearsold.Fifteenyearslater,andthingshadchangedbetweenthem.Henrywasnow hisskilledbutler,andthedearestfriendthatWilliamhadeverhad
“Now,mylord,it’stimetoputyourjacketon.”
“Henry ”Williamturnedaround,leavingthesightofthecurlinghairbehindtomeetthesharpfeaturesofhisbutler Atfirst glance,somepeoplefoundHenryabitfrightening,for hisjawlineandnoseweresosharpandaquiline,butnotWilliam.He sawthekindnessinHenry’slightgreyeyes,andheknewtheman’ssoftmanner “HowmanytimeshaveItoldyounottocall methat?CallmeWilliam.”
“Youarethebaronnow,”Henryremindedhimwithagentlesmile “It’swhatmustbedone Now ”Heheldupthetailcoat again.
Sensinghewasfightingalosingbattle,Williamnoddedhisthanksandputontheblacktailcoat,turningtofacehisreflection oncemore.Intheglass,hesawthetiredlinesonhisface.Theyseemedtobeingrainedintohisskinthislastmonth,eversince hisfatherdied,borntherefromthethingsheheardsaidinthestreetwhenpeoplethoughthishearingtobepoor
They think I am a monster, just like him.
“Now,you’reready,mylord”
“AmI?”Williamdidn’tmove.Hejustcontinuedtostareattheglass.HehalfwishedhecouldswapplaceswithHenry.His butleralwaysseemedcalmandcollected,ateaseinanyroom,whereasWilliamwasnot
He’d grownaccustomed to the prisoner his father had made himinto. Scarcelygoingbeyond the walls oftheir estate, he’d mixedwithfewpeopleinhislife Now,hehadtogotoanassemblyandpretendtobeperfectlycomfortable,eventhoughhe knewtherewouldbemanytheretonightwhowouldbepointingandwhisperingathim.
“I could put it off for another month?” William suggested, catching Henry’s eye once more “I could claim I’m still in mourning.”Henryquirkedaneyebrow,andWilliamlaughed.“Iknow,hardlyconvincing,isit?”
“Noonemournshim,”Henrysaidinalowtone.“Ishouldnotsaysuchthings ”
“GoodGod,Henry,you’remuchmoretongue-tiedsinceIbecameabaron.Please,justbeaswehavealwaysbeen.”
Henrynoddedslowly,thengesturedbehindhim.
“Now,areweready?”Hepointedatthedoor.
Slowly,Williamturnedaround,lookingatthefineentrancehallofhishouse Hehadbeenmakingchangessincehisfatherhad passed,andhehadinheritedthemoney.
Thoughthe title of baronhad beenhis ever since his mother had passed a few years ago, for the baronycame throughher bloodline and nothis father’s, the moneyhad gone to his father first. Now thatthe moneywas his, he was redecoratingthe house,makingitintosomethingotherthantheprisonhehadknownforsolong
Theheavymahoganyboardswhichoncemadeupthefloorhadbeenliftedandreplacedwithwhitemarble.Thepaintingsthat weredarkandominous,withonethathadevenbeentitled The Nightmare, hadbeenreplacedwithfinerandlighterpaintings, too.
He had not chosen expensive paintings, but pictures that he liked, pastoral scenes of bright sunshine There was just one paintingintheroomthatwasaportraitandthatpicturesatnearthebottomofthestairs.
Hismothersmiledoutathimfromasunnysceneinthegardenoftheircountryestate Dressedinalightbluegown,hershining browneyes, muchthe same color as his own, stared backathim. There was a small smile onher lips, curvinggently. The imagewasashewishedtorememberher:alive,healthy,andaboveall,happy “Mylord?”Henrysaid,tryingtourgehimtothedoor.
Williamsighedonceagain,shakinghisheadatHenry
“Oneofthesedays,youwillcallmebymynameagain.”
Henrychuckledsoftly.
“Trustme Thisassemblywillnotbeasbadasyoufear Itisachancetoenjoytheworld Toshowyourfaceand ”Hetrailed off.
“Tocomeoutofmyfather’sshadow?”Williamfinishedforhim “Yes,adarkshadowithasbeenindeed”Heturnedbackto glanceinthemirroroncemoreagain,brushingbackthehairthatwascurling.
It’s as good as I’m going to make it
“Verywell,letusgo.”Williamwalkedtowardthedoorandsteppedout.Onthetrackroadleadingtohishouse,hiscarriage awaitedhim
“Idonothavetocome,”Henrysaidslowly,followinghim.“Itishardlycustomaryforabutlertoaccompanytheirlord
“Fortonight,please,come,”Williamsaidagain.“I’llbemorecomfortablewithyouthere.”
Williamhadmadeuphismind.Heknew plentyofgentlemenattendedassemblies andballs withsomesortofmanservantin tow, evenif it wasn’t their butler, and out of all of his staff, Henrywas the one he wanted there the most. If nothingelse, Williamcouldspeaktohimwhenhegrewboredandfrustratedwitheveryonegossipingabouthim.
As theyclimbed into the carriage, Henrylit a lanternoverhead, lightingthe wayinthe darkness withanorange glow. The carriagesetoff,andWilliamwatchedthelanternswingbackandforthforaminute.
“YouseemmuchmoreassuredabouttonightthanIam,”WilliamobservedasHenryloweredthestickheoftencarriedathis sideontothebenchbesidehim.Itwasn’tawalkingstickbutaswaggerstick,somethinghehadinheritedfromhisfather,who hadservedasasoldierinthewar “Youseemeven excited”
Henryflattenedhissmile,asifinanefforttoberidofsuchanticipation
“ItisforyouthatIamexcited,”Henryrepliedwithgreatpassion.“It’shightimeyoucameoutfromthathouseandlivedlife fully.”
“Youknow whyit has not beeneasy.” Williamscratched his chinuncomfortably. “All myfather’s debtors, all the menhe offendedandcheated ”
“Youarenothim.Youarejusthisson.”
“Andtheyseemeasbeingofhisblood Theyseemeasamanbuiltinhisimage,”Williammutteredwithscorn “How amI eversupposedtomarryandhaveafamilyofmyownifpeopleinthe ton lookatmewiththisoneimageinmind?”
Itwasathoughthehadconfessedthedayafterhisfatherhaddied Williamlongedtostartafamilyofhisown,tobehappyas his mother had been. Yetsurelysucha dreamwas outofreach, no matter how hard he stretched to take it, whenall ladies wouldbewarnedofffromhim,thankstohisfather’sreputation
“Maybeit’stimetorewriteyourreputation,”Henrymurmured,moretohimselfthantoWilliamatall;thenhelookedoutofthe window,hiseyesnotblinkinginthought
“Whatdoyoumeanbythat?”Williamtiltedhisheadtotheside,watchinghisbutlercarefully.
“Nothing.”Henrylookedbackathimagain.“Justgotonightwithanopenmind,mylord.Youmightbesurprisedbywhatyou findtheretonight.”
“Hmm Well,youhave more confidence thanIdo” Williamsatback,rubbinghis hands together nervously Whathe didnot speakhis mind aboutwas also the nervousness he feltabouttalkingto ladies there tonight. Havingbeenkeptlocked inthe houseforsolong,hehadcirculatedamongveryfewwomen
Maybe this is a disaster just waiting to happen
“Good evening.” Becca tried to keep the tremble out of her voice as she slipped the spencer jacket off her shoulders. She couldn’thelpglancingdownatthefinegownshehadborrowedfromoneofthemodistesinCoventGarden,feelingasifshe wasafishoutofwater ThegownhadbeensecuredbyCharlotte,whosecousinworkedasaseamstressatthemodiste’sshop
TheelegantsagegreengownwasgatheredunderBecca’sbustandfell totheflooringentlewavesofsilk.Thehemfinished justabove the floor, hidingperfectlythather shoes were nowhere near as fine as the gown The shortsleeves finished just beneathhershoulders,andthesurprisinglydeepnecklinemadeherrepeatedlypullatthegown,fearingshewasrevealingtoo much
“Yourinvitation,ma’am?”themanstoodattheentrancetoAlmack’sAssemblyRoomsasked,extendingawhite-glovedhand towardher
Shepassedtheinvitationover,prayingthathedidnotseethefactherhandshook.Helookedovertheinvitation,andforone horridminute,sheheldherbreath,fearingthatthiswassomeawfultrick,thatperhapsitwasafalseinvitation,andshehadn’t beeninvitedafterall.
“ThisinvitationistoaMr ReginalBaxter?”themansaidcoolly,lookingatherwithaclearquestioninhisgaze
“Yes,heis…myfather,”shesaidhurriedly.“Hewasunabletomakeit,sohehasallowedmetousetheinvitationinstead.”
Abeatofsilencefollowedthesewordsasthemancontinuedtostareather.
Behindherintheroad,morepeopleweregatheringfromtheircarriages,allimpatientlycallingforwardastowhatthehold-up was.
“Verywell”Themansighedandwavedherin
She released the breathshe had beenholdingand walked into the corridor ofthe assemblyrooms, followingothers as they discardedtheirjacketsandcloakswithservantsstandingononesideofthecorridor Sheavoidedmeetingtheirgazes,fearing thatone ofthe servants mightrecognize her fromthe streets ofLondon, thenscurried inbehind a particularlylarge group of ladieswhogossipedwildly,theirchatterlikethebuzzofabeehive.
Shewassobusybeingcarefulnottobeseenalonethatshedidnotpayattentiontowhereshewasgoing,notuntilshestumbled intothemainballroomandthedazzlinglightofthecandlestookherbreathaway Shehalted,herchinturningbackandforthas shetookintheroom.
The greatcandelabras hangingfromthe ceilingbasked the roominlemon-tinged light, makingthe ladies’faces glow, along withtheirjewelry.Asiftheirskinhadbeenstuddedwithstones,theyturnedtheirheadsbackandforth,makingsurethelight caughtalltheirfinejewels.
Gentlemenwanderedbackandforth,somestandingtall andadjustingcravatsasabudgerigarmightpreenhisfeathers,while othersstaredcoollybetweentheladies,judgingthemasifitwereacompetition.
“Iaminover myhead,” she murmured, raisingher hands over her arms and practicallycuddlingherselfas she stood inthe corneroftheroom.Theonepieceofjewelrysheworewasthebroochthathadbeengiftedtoherbythemysteriousvisitorto theprinthouse Itglitteredlikeacandleflameallofitsown
Unsurewhatelsetodoother thanmakeherselfvisibletowhoever thegentlemanwas,Beccastartedtocircletheroom.She started near the edge, her nerves making it impossible to go anywhere near the middle of the room. No one turned to acknowledge her presence or speakto her The feelingofinvisibilitygrew, and rather thanbeingperturbed bythe idea, she grewincreasinglycomforted.
Shewasabletoobservethe ton intheirfinery,listeningintoscrapsofconversationthatinspiredher,makingherthinkofnew articlesthatshecouldwritefortheperiodical.
“Ohyes, indeed,” one elderlyladysaid, graspingwhat had to be her granddaughter’s armand clutchingit tight withbony fingers.“Hehaseightthousandpoundsayear.Isitnotawondrousthing?Imaginebeingmarriedtothat.”
Married to the money or the man?
Beccabitherliptoavoidlaughingasshemovedonthroughtheroomandhoveredbyadrinkstable,payingparticularattention to two gentlemen whose heads were bent together. One was the perfect image of a dandy with excessive lace cuffs and a paintedface,theothermuchmorereservedanddemurelookingwithadarksuit.
“Notapennyleft.Notabitofit!”thedandysaidwithahigh-pitchedtone.“BaronLancaster’sfatherbledeverymanheever metdry.Ifyouaskme,hebelongedindebtor’sprison,notthatfinehousehegotbymarryinghiswife.”
“Shh,someonewillhearyou,”thedemuremanbesidehimhissed,butthedandydidn’tseemtocareandlaunchedintoanother tiradeconcerningmoney.
Beccamovedonagain,glancingbackrepeatedlyasshenoticedapattern.Asurprisingnumberofconversationsinthatroomall concernedonething,inonewayoranother money.
She reached for another table lined withdrinks and looked over the glasses spread across the table. There was champagne bubblingintall,thinglasses,andrichdarkclaretinmuchsquatterglasses
ItwasnotthebeerorginthatBeccawasusedtoseeinginthebackstreetsofLondon,intankardsclutchedandwavedoutsideof taverns and pubs indrunkards’hands. Unsure what she would like, she tooka glass ofchampagne and lifted it to her lips, sniffingit cautiouslyat first before she dared take a sip The bubbles tickled her tongue, and she stepped backinsurprise beforeshefeltsomethingunderherfoot.
“Oh!”sheyelpedinsurpriseassherealizedshewassteppingnotonsomething,butsomeone.Shetrippedonanother’sfoot, fallingtothesidebeforeahandcameupandgraspedherwaist.
Thesuddenfirmness,thepracticalintimacyofthetouchtoherwaistshockedher,andsheturnedherheadasmuchaspossible, hereyesflittingtowardthebearerofthathand.
Afacewasmuchclosertohersthanshehadanticipated,apairofdarkeyes,thecolorofchestnuts,anddarkbrownhairlike cinnamonthatcurledacrosshisforehead.
“Forgiveme,”shemuttered,thewordsfallingfromherlipsasthesmallestofsmilesliftedthehandsomeface.
“I…”Williamfalteredforasecond.
Hedidn’tseemabletomove.Hishandwasstillonthelady’swaist,andhesomehowrealizedthatintheirkerfuffletogether,in dangeroffallingover,herhandhadalsogonetothecenterofhischesttokeepherselfbalanced Itrestedtherestill,overthe middle ofhis waistcoatbuttons, as theystared atone another. HeatshotthroughWilliam’s body, and his eyes couldn’tstop drinkinginthesightofthewoman
Shewastallerthanmostwomeninattendance,strikingwithherwillowyframe,withherblondehaircurlingsomadlyitwasin danger of falling out of its updo It was her eyes that struck himthe most, though They were the purest blue, almost like aquamarinegemssetoverhighcheekbones.
Then,theheatedspellwasbroken Allofasudden,thoseaquamarineeyesshotdowntoherhandinthemiddleofhischest
“Iamsosorry,”shewhisperedandsteppedback.
William released her waist, heat still coursing through his body, despite the fact he was no longer touching her. Every scandalousthoughthehadeverindulgedinhislifeseemedtoreturnatonceashegazedattheprettyfaceofthestranger.
“No, no, I’msorry,” he said hurriedly, notwantingthe ladyto runawayfromhimjustyet. “Iwas notlookingwhere Iwas going”Heclearedhisthroat,prayingthatsomehow,bytalkingnormally,hecouldpersuadehimselfthathewasnotimagining himselfandthisstrangernowtangledtogetherinsomedarkenedroom.
What is wrong with me? Have I lost all ability to think like a gentleman?
Heclearedhisthroatforasecondtimeandgesturedtothebusyballroombehindthem.
“IfoundaneedtoescapethepeopleheretonighttogetadrinkandshouldhavelookedwhereIwasputtingmyfeet”
Shesmiledalittle,thatlooktransformingherfeaturesintosomethingallthemoreentrancingthanbefore.
God’s wounds I need to get control of myself!
Heturnedawaytothetableandslylyadjustedhistrousers,reachingforaglassofclaretwithhurrieddesperation
“Well,Ishouldthankyou,”shewhispered,movingtohisside.“Forcatchingme,ormyfirstnightatoneoftheseeventscould havebeenadisaster,resultinginmefallingflatonmyface.”
“Ifithelps,Ialreadynearlydidthat.”Heloweredhisvoiceandleanedtowardher,wonderingifitwastheeffectofthetwo glasses of claret he had already drunk that evening which were making himbolder than usual “I took two steps into the ballroom,trippedonastep,andnearlywentflying.Iwouldhavedone,too,hadmybutlernotbeenbymysidetocatchme.”
Shegiggledsoftly,herheadbendingforwardandoneloosecurlfallingpasthercheek.Hishanditchedtopushthatcurlback, toinstigateanothertouch,tofeelthatrushingheatagain,butinstead,hemovedhishandbehindhistailcoat,tighteningitintoa fisttokeepfromtouchingher
“Iwonderhowmanygentlemenheretonighthavebeensavedbyembarrassmentfromtheworkoftheirstaff?”
Herwittookhimbysurprise,andhechuckledwarmly.
“Inmycase,Iwouldbenowherewithoutmybutler Heismyfriend,too,andalifesaver”
Herexpressionsoftenedevenmore,asifhehadsaidsomethingwonderousindeed.Theystaredateachother,andWilliamwas suddenlyawareofhowdeeplyshebreathed,herchestrisingandfalling Hiseyesdarteddowntotheratherrevealingneckline ofhergownbeforehesnatchedhisgazeaway.
Get a hold of yourself!
“Ihopeyouarenotinjuredfromourfumble?”hesaid,gesturingbacktothespotwheretheyhadcollided.
“No,no,Iamquitewell,thankyou”Sheshookherhead,raisingherglassofchampagnetoherlipsandtakingasip Hereyes widenedattheglass,andforabriefsecond,hewonderedifshe’devertastedchampagnebeforeornot.“Imayhaveonlyhada coupleofsipsofthischampagne,butapparently,it’stoomuchformealreadyifIcan’tevencontrolmyownfeetanymore”
“Thatmenshouldputanenemyintotheirmouthstostealawaytheirbrains.”Williamraisedhisownglasstohislips.
Heclosedhiseyes,feelingmoreinadequatebythesecondstandingnexttothewomanbesidehim.Hefearedhewasrightwhen hehadtoldHenryearlierthateveningthathewasnotpracticedattalkingtoladiesand,therefore,fearedhewouldmakeafool ofhimself Itwashardlyhelpedbythefactthathewasnowtryingtoavoidlookingattheladybesidehimasmuchaspossible, incasehefeltthatheatagain.
“Shakespeare,” she said suddenly. Withthe word, he couldn’t help lookingbackat her again, his jaw slackened. “Are you surprisedtofindawomanthatreadsShakespeare,Sir?”sheasked,raisingasingleeyebrow.
“No,it’snotthat,justthat ”hefaltered,wonderinghowbesttodescribeit “IthinkIhavehadahabitofboringalltheladies here tonight. If I talked about Shakespeare with other women here, no doubt I would be scorned for it. I hardly expected anothertorecognizeaquoteaboutdrinkingfromthegreatbard”
“Oh,buthehadmanygreatquotesonsuchasubject,didhenot?Now,letmethink.”Shetappedherglassandliftedherchinin thought,staringattheceiling Entranced,Williamcouldnolongerlookawayashewaitedforhertosaymore “Thouinvisible spiritofwine,ifthouhasnonametobeknownby,letitbedevil!”
“Ha! Agreat one indeed, and yet there are more still” He turned to face her fully “It provokes the desire ” He halted, realizingexactlywhat he was saying. He certainlyfelt desire; it ripped throughhimlike lightningas he stared at the lady, thoughhewascertainithadnothingtodowithwinenow
“Butittakesawaytheperformance,”shefinishedthequotewithaquirkedeyebrow.
Theybothlaughedtogether,shehidherlaughbehindherglassasheguffawed,tippingbackhishead.
“Well, Icansaycategoricallythatno other womanhere tonightwould talkopenlywithme notonlyaboutShakespeare, but desire,too,”heconfessed,controllinghislaughter.
“No?”Shelookedaroundwithasuddenblushpinkeningthetopsofhercheeks “Howdull”
Helaughedagain,findingthefeelingoddlyeasywiththisstrangerbeforehim.Havingmadeafoolofhimselfmorethanonce alreadythis eveningas he had attempted conversations withladies he was introduced to, he now felta need to staybythis woman.Atleastwithher,hecouldtalk.
“Youhavenodancecard,”heobserved,gesturingtothefactherwristwasbareassheliftedherglass
“Ah,no,”shemurmured,lookingaroundtheroomoncemore,presumablyattheotherladiesandtheirdancecards,whichhung fromdelicateribbonsontheirwrists
“Wereyouhopingtoavoiddancingbynotbringingone?”
“Somethinglikethat”Shesmiled “You’dfindmeapoordancepartner,sir IknownoneoftheseintricateroutinesthatIhave heardtheto…Imean,thatIhaveheardaredancedatsucheventsasthese.”
“Andwhatofthewaltz?”
It is not because I am imagining having her in my arms again That is not what this is!
Despitethethought,hepurposefullyclutchedhisglasshard,notyetoutstretchinganarmtowardher.
“Thewaltz?”shemurmured “Thatistheoneinthreetime,isitnot?”
“Itisalldonethroughleadandfollow,andIbelieveonehasjustbegun.”Hehelduphishandintheair,andtheybothlistened for a beat Alongintroductionto a waltzhad commenced, and couples all across the roomwere movingtoward the space clearedfordancingintheballroom.“Wouldyoujoinme?”Williamasked,atlastliftingahandtowardher.
Shehesitated,andthatmoment’spausemadehimfeelasifhehadbeenkickedinthestomach Wasitpossibleshehadnotfelt theheatashehaddonewhentheyhadcollidedwithoneanother?Werethosewideeyesandpinkcheeksmerelyembarrassment andnotexcitementatall?
Thenshe downedthe restofher champagne glass.Williamlaughed,startled,for he hadnever seenanyladydosucha thing before Eachladyherethiseveningsippedherwinedelicately,asiftheideaofpartingherlipsfaratallwasascandal This lady,though,hadnosuchqualms.Notadropwasleftintheglassassheputtheglassdown.
“Dutchcourage?”heaskedwithahumoredsmile “Perhaps.”Shematchedhissmile,thenpassedherhandintohis.
Unlikesomeoftheother ladies heretonight,shedidn’twear longwhitegloves thatreachedher elbows,buther hands were bare,thedelicateandthinfingersrestingagainstthepalmofhishandsoperfectlythattheheatreturnedinaninstant.
“WillyouforgivemeifIcollidewithyouagain,andthistime,wereallywillfallonourfaces?”sheasked.
“Trustme Iwillnotletyoufall”Hewinkedanddrewheraway
Beccahesitatedastheyreachedthedancefloor
What am I doing? Why in God’s name did I agree to such a thing?
She hadlistenedtothe drummingfeelinginher chest,her thuddingheartbeat,rather thanthe soundthinkingofher mind,and followedhimtothefloor.Otherdancerssurroundedthemandwerealreadytakingholdofoneanother,readytodance.
Shewaited,unsurewhattodo,andhastilycurtseyingoncethegentlemanoppositeherbowed,thenheofferedhishandtoher, andshemovedtowardhim.Withtremblinghands,shetookholdofhishandandhisshoulder.
I do not belong here. I belong beyond these walls as one of the classes that are closer to serving the people within. I should not be dancing with a gentleman!
Strangely,itdidn’tseemtomatter,though,asherestedahandonherwaist.Thatwarm,tinglingfeelingshe’dfeltbeforewhen he’dtakenholdofherreturnedtenfold,butifanything,evenstrongerthanbefore.
Notawordpassedbetweenthemasheledherintothefirstfewstepsofthedance.Atfirst,shefumbledhersteps,butrather thandespairingather,helaughedwarmly
“Notembarrassed,sir?”sheaskedquietly.
“I’mstilldancingwithyou,amInot?”
Shesmiledalittleandslowlystartedtounderstandthefigureshewasleadingherthrough.Sheconcentratedonfollowinghim, feelingthestrengthofhisshoulderbeneaththepalmofherhandandthewaytheirfingersslottedtogetherwithease
Atonepoint,whenheurgedhertoturnfasttoavoidacollisionwithanothercouple,thetwoofthemendedupclosertogether, breathingthesameair,herbodynearlypressedtohis.Herbreathinggrewfasterstill,herhandsholdingontohimallthemore.
Itsuddenlydidn’tseemtomatterthatshe’dcomeheretonightforonereasononly:tomeetthemanwhowishedtocommission herforastory Allshethoughtofnowwasthemanbeforeher
Thedancepassedbytooquickly Shesmiledateveryopportunity,marvelingattheeaseofhismovementsaroundthefloor,the wayinwhichhenevermindedifshewentwrong,andhowtheynearlyfelltogethermorethanoncewhenshestoodonhistoe.
Bythe end of the waltz, theydanced as close to one another as theyhad beenwhentheyfirst collided. Theyslowed their movementsdownwiththemusic,bobbingfromsidetoside,staringatoneanother,notonceglancingaway.
“That’squiteadance,”hewhispered.
“Itwas,”sheagreed,tryingtocontrolherbreathingandcalmitdownashereleasedher Shetriednottothinkofthelonging shefeltforhistouchagainashebowed,andshecurtsied;then,heofferedhishandandledheroffthefloor.
“Please,tellmeyourname,”hewhisperedastheyleftthefloor Hewasleaningtowardher,farcloserthananyothermanwas doingwithaladyintheroom.Shesupposeditwasscandalousinthisroom,butshedidn’tpullaway.
“It’s ”
“Ah,mylord!”awomancalledloudly,cuttingacrosstheirconversationbeforeBeccacouldfinishspeaking.“Atlast,Ihaveso wantedtospeaktoyouthisevening”
Beccalookedaroundtoseeayoungwomanrushingtowardthem.Withdarkhairslickedbackbeautifullyacrossherhead,she was strikinginher finery Pearl-drop earrings hungfromher ears, and her neckline glittered withgold and gems Her dark browneyeszeroedinonthegentlemanbesideBecca,stillholdingherhand.
Wait my lord?
Beccajerkedherheadaroundagain,staringatthehandsomegentlemanshehaddancedwith.
I have danced with a titled man What was I thinking?
“LadyHeather”Hebowedtothewoman “Itisgoodtoseeyouagain”
“LordLancaster.”ShecurtsiedjustasBecca’sjawdroppedlower.
Lord Lancaster
Thewhispersshe’dheardearlierthateveningrepeatedinhermind.SomeonehadspokenofBaronLancasterandhisfather,a reprobate,whenitcametostealingpeople’smoney Wasitpossibleshehadindeeddancedwithabaron?
“Ihave beenlongingto talkto youall evening.” LadyHeather moved to his other side and tookhis arm, withoutaskingor waitingforaninvitation.ThepresumptionmadeLordLancaster’seyeswiden,buthesaidnothinginobjection.
He simplylooked atBecca questioningly, who had to bite her lip notto laughathis reaction. “Youmustacceptmydearest condolencesonyourrecentloss Tohavelostyourfathersosuddenly,oh,itissuchasadtaleindeed”
“Thankyou,”LordLancastersaid,thoughhisresponsewascompletelywooden
LadyHeathermadetheappearanceoftrying to walkaway, drawinghimwithher, but his feet stayed firmlylocked to the floor, and once more, Becca had to fight her laughter.
“Itismyhopethatthisevening,perhapsIcanbringyousomesmilesinyourgrief.Areasontobehappy.”Shepulledoutafan andfluttereditinfrontofherface.
Beccawasratherremindedofapeacockdisplayingitsfeathersinordertodrawattentionfromapotentialmate.Shecommitted theimagetomemory,certainthat,atsomepoint,thedescriptioncouldproveusefulinherwriting.
“Iassureyou,Icanfindmanyreasonstosmile.Ihavejustsharedadancewiththislady,forone,”hesaidpointedly,gesturing toBeccawhonowjuststoodbesidethem.Sheflinched,startledtobereturnedintotheconversation.
LadyHeatherlookedathersharply,andherratherostentatioussmilebegantofalter.
“Well,itisapleasuretomeetyou”Shecurtsied,asdidBecca,tryingherbestnottogetinatanglewiththehemofhergown “Whoareyourfamilyheretonight?”LadyHeatherasked,hertoneholdingahintofsharpness,thoughitwasnotanovertone. “Whatareyourconnections?”
Beccamerelystaredatherinwonder,oncemoreunderstandingthewaythe ton worked.
She is looking for what family money I am attached to It’s all anyone in this room cares about!
ThenshelookedatLordLancasterbesideher,stillfeelingthatstrangehungerandyearninginherchestthathadbeenthereever sinceshehadcollidedwithhim Hehadnotseemedtocareaboutmoney,butthenagain,hewasabaron Perhapshewasjust morehiddeninhistruemotivations.
“Myfamilyis ofno consequence,” Becca said hurriedly Fearingdiscovery, she curtsied hastilyfor a second time “If you wouldexcuseme,there…thereisanother Ineedtotalktotonight.”ShesharedonelastlookwithLordLancaster,seeingthe frownatherdeparture,andthensheturnedandleft,walkingquicklyacrosstheroom
He is not for me. No good can come from dwelling on a single dance with such a gentleman. He is a baron!
She reached the side ofthe roomwhere the drinks tables stood and helped herselfto another glass ofchampagne, takinga ratherlargegulpbeforeshenoticed,outofthecornerofhereye,thatsomeoftheladieslookedatherwithsuspicionforthis. Fearingshewasnotbehavinginaladylikemanner,sheloweredtheglassbackdowntothetable
“Idonotbelonghere,”shewhispered,fiddlingwiththebroochonhergown.Sheturned,readytoleavetheassemblyrooms andabandonherendeavoraltogether,whensomeonesteppedinfrontofher
Almostas tall as BaronLancaster, he was a strikingpresence withsharp features and a rather aquiline nose. The greyeyes lookedstraightather,harshly,thenhebowedhishead,hiseyesneverleavinghers Shehastenedtocurtsyoncemore,growing tiredofhowmanytimesshehadtobobupanddowninthisroom.
“Mr ReginaldBaxter,Ipresume?”heaskedinahumoroustone
“I…”WordsfailedBeccaasshestaredatthemanbeforeher.Thesharpcleansuitwasplain,aswastheswaggerstickinhis clasp.ThesightofitconjuredtheimageCharlottehaddescribed.“Yes,Iam,”shewhispered.
Thegentleman’seyebrowsshotupthenhissmilegrew,andittransformedhisface Theknotoffearthathaddevelopedinher stomachbegantosoftenasshestaredathim.
“LordknowswhyIamsosurprised.”Heshookhishead.“Iknowtherearesomegreatwritersouttherewhodonotwritein theirownname.WhyshouldMr.Baxterbeanydifferent?”
“Youdonotmind,sir?”Beccaasked,steppingforwardinsurprise.Shefelteyesuponherandglancedacrosstheroom.She metLord Lancaster’s gaze and thatexcitementshotthroughher once more, as ifshe had takenanarrow to the center ofher chest,thenhelookedaway,hisattentioncaughtbyLadyHeather,andshereturnedherfocustothegentlemanbeforeher
“No,indeed.”Themanshookhisheadoncemore.“Ifanything,youhavebecomemoreofaninterestingwritertomenow.”He crooked his finger, beckoningfor her to follow him. Withsome wariness, she passed around the drinks table, movingto the corneroftheroomwheretheystoodtogether.“Iseeyouhavealreadymetmymaster,BaronLancaster.”
Beccastoppedherjawfromdroppinganothertimethatevening
“Yourmaster?Thenyouarehis ”
“Butler, yes.” He nodded and inclined his head toward her inacknowledgement. “Myname is HenryFitzwilliam,” he said calmly. “I wished to speak to the writer Mr. Reginal Baxter as I have a commission for him concerning my master, a commissionIhopeyouwillbeinterestedin,Miss ?”Hewaitedforhertointroduceherself
“Thornton,”shesaidslowly Hesmiledandnodded “Whatdoyouknowofmymaster,MissThornton?”
“I Well ” She struggled for words Asked such a thing by Charlotte, she could have gone on at length about the handsomenessoftheman,theeasewithwhichshehadspoken,theflirtation,anything!Yetthesewerehardlythingstodiscuss withMr Fitzwilliam “Ihaveheardrumorsabouthisfathertonight”
“Ah,andthatiswhatIwishyoutosetright.”Heheldhisfingerupintheair,capturingherattention.“All aroundthisroom, andineveryotherroomthe ton occupies,you’llhearmymaster’snameandtitlelambasted Heshareshisfather’sblood,and thatishiscondemnation,tobetaintedbyassociationwiththedevil.”
“Thenhisfather hewasnotagoodman?”
“Far fromit.”Mr.Fitzwilliamsigheddeeply.“ThereismoretothestorythatconcernsBaronLancaster,much,muchmore.I wishtocreate the opportunityfor mymaster totell his ownstory,the truthofwhatreallyhappenedwithhis father andhow differentthetwoofthemare.
Onlythenwillthebaronhavehisopportunitytolivehislifefreely,toitsfullest.Maybethenhecanhavetruefriendswholook athimwithtrust,notwariness,andperhapshecanmarrysomeday,too.”
Marry?
Becca looked toward Lord Lancaster who stared without speaking at Lady Heather as she babbled relentlessly about something.AkernelofjealousybloomedinBecca’sstomachbeforesheclampeddownuponit.
“Iunderstand”Beccanoddedslowly,tryingtomaintainabusinessmanner “Writingthetruthofthetalecouldofferhimanew future,abetterone,butthereissomethingmoreIneedtoask.Whychooseme?”
“I’msorry?”
“Thereareanynumberofwriterswhocouldperformsuchatask.The ton hasitsownscandalsheetwriters,trustednamesthat people go to for whattheybelieve to be the truthbehind the gossip Youhave greatmemoir writers and essayists, too, who coulddoafinejob.WhychooseMr.ReginaldBaxter,awriterfromacheapperiodicalwhoportraysaworldfarbeyondthe ton?”shewhisperedinarush.
“Manyreasons.”Mr.Fitzwilliamsighed.“Ascandalwriterwouldnodoubtembellishthestory,astheyalwaysdo,andyoucan neverreallytrustwhattheysayevenifsomeoneisfoolishenoughtobelievethem Asforgreatmemoirwriters,theypublish thickvolumeswhichareleftgrowingdustyontheshelvesofbookshopsandlibraries.No,weneedsomeonedifferent.”
He gestured to her withthe swagger stick “Your writingcaptures the hearts of those who read I’ve seenpeople fromall classespickupthe Sanders’Periodical.Theyturntoyourpieces,laughingwarmlyatyourdepictionofhumannature,andeven sometimessheddingatear,too. That isthesortofwritingmymasterneeds,evenifhedoesnotknowityet.”
“Oh.”Shegasped,realizingthatBaronLancasterknewnothingofthis.ItwasMr.Fitzwilliamalonewhohadbroughtherhere tonightforthisconversation
“Youwould,ofcourse,bepaidforyourwork,”Mr.Fitzwilliamaddedquickly.“Youwouldbepaidwell.”
“Thankyou,”shemumbled Themoneycouldindeedbeusefultoher,buttherewassomethingelseonhermindnow Tobethe writerwhotoldthetruestoryofatitledmanandhisfather,aknowndeceiverandtrickster,couldaffordherafameinwriting thatshehadonlydreamedof
Yetitwasnottheonlythingtoconsider.ShewouldbemeetingLordLancaster onaregular basistomakesuchapiece.Her poorworldofcheapprintersandsmallhousesintheback-to-backbuildingsofLondonwouldbecollidingwithhisworldof richesandfinery.
What would he think of the woman he danced with then?
“Ineedtothinkaboutit,”shesaidinarush,clutchingthebroochonhergownandpullingitoffasquicklyasshecould.
“Keep it,” Mr Fitzwilliamurged “Ofcourse, youneed to thinkaboutit Ifyoudecide itis somethingyouwishto do, then writetomeatthisaddress.”Hehandedherasmallcard.“Ihopeyouwillconsiderisseriously,MissThornton.Ibelieveitis aventurethatcouldhelpbothyouandmymaster”
Withthesefinalwords,hedeparted,bowinghisheadtoheroncelasttime.Sheheldthebroochbetweenherfingers,feelingthe stonescoldandharshtothetouch,asshesoughtoutLordLancasteracrosstheroom.Hewasmovingbacktothedancefloor butwithLadyHeatherthistime,andnow theirdancefeltlikeadistantmemory,disappearinglikesmokefromafirethathad goneout.
Beccapacedupanddownhersmallroomintheatticofherfather’shouse.Thereweresofewchambersinthebuildingthatit wastheonlyoptionforaroomofherown.Thefloorboardscreakedbeneathherweight,andwaryofwakinghimup,shesat downatthefootofherbed,staringthroughthedimlightatnothinginparticular,forhermindwassuchawhir.
Now clad ina nightgownwiththe fine gownshe had wornthat eveningat the assemblytossed across the backof a chair nearby,shefeltmoreherselfagain.Shewasnofinelady,noactressonastageplayingapart,butawriterusedtothedarkened cornersofhiddenrooms,wherenoonecouldseethetruefacebehindwhatshewrote
“I cannot do this. I cannot possibly do it,” she murmured aloud, somehow hoping that by speaking the words, she would convinceherselfallthemore Itwasawarofheadandheart Hergoodsensetoldheritwastoodangerous,butherheartknew thatthereweregoodthingsthatcouldcomefromit.
Thepossibilityofwritingforatitledmanwouldindeedbringherwritingattentionthatshecouldonlyhavedreamedof
Yettherewasanotherargumentherheartkeptmaking,onethaturgedherhearttobeatfaster,herpalmstogrow clammy,and hermindtostartcursingatherself.
I would be able to see Lord Lancaster again.
Shehuffedandstood,droppingtheshawlshehadwrappedaroundhershoulderstokeepherselfwarm.Shenolongerfeltcold, foraheathadbegunatthethoughtofLordLancaster,andlikeafire,itcouldnotbeeasilyquelled
“Icannotdoit,”shewhisperedoncemore,andturnedtothesmallwritingbureauinthecornerofherroom.Theonecandleshe hadlittokeephercompanyrestedonthedesk,theflameflickeringalittleasshemovedtowardit.
Inasingledrawer,stuffedfull,werethemostrecentperiodicalsthatheldherwriting.Shetookoutthetoppaperandturnedto herarticle,nestleddeepwithinthepagesneartheback,hardlythetitlepieceortheonethatwoulddrawthemostattention
It would be a way to become a new writer, to be more widely read.
Shereturnedthepaper,stuffingitintothedrawerandslowlymovingbacktothebed,climbingunderthecovers
“I know what I want to do,” she whispered aloud. It seemed her heart had made up her mind, evenwhenher head argued againstit “Ihavetodoit”Sheflungherselfbackontothebedandpulledthecoversoverherhead
Sleepcamequickly,andinthosedarkdepths,Becca’smindwandered.
Shewasnolongeraloneinthatchamber.Therewasanotherwalkingintotheroom.Hedidn’tlightanothercandlebutleaned
againstthedoorframeforasecond,justlookingatherwiththosedeepbrowneyes.Therewasalittlestubbleacrosshischin wherehehadn’tyetshavedhimselffortheday,andhiscurlyhairlifteduponhisforehead.Beccalongedtoreachout,totangle herhandsinthathairandpullhimtoher
Asifhe’dheardherthoughts,hewalkedtowardher.Hebentdownoverthebedwhereshelay,tuggingatthebedcoversinone swiftmovement Theyfelloffherontothefloor,yetshewasnotwearingmuchatall Hernightgownwasgatheredaroundher hips,revealingherlegs,andthenecklinewaswideopen,offeringaglimpseofherbreasts.
Beccaknewwhatcouldhappenbetweenmenandwomen.Asagirlofthestreets,sheandCharlottehadgrownupawayfrom whatthewomenwhosoldtheirbodiesinSohoofferedmenatnight,andsometimesearlyinthemorning.Beccahadonceor twiceimaginedwhatitcouldbeliketoshareherselfwithaman,butneverhaditfeltthisheated
Shereachedupashebentdowntowardher,hislipsfindingherown.Thekisswassuddenandpassionate,notabriefpeckon thelips,butfirmashepartedherlips Herhandsreachedforhisshoulders,pullinghimdownoverthebedashepulledather skirt,tuggingithigherandhigheruntilitwasgatheredjustunderherbust,revealingherwholelowerbodytohim.
Sheraisedherkneeonimpulse,givinghimaccesstoher,thenhishandfoundher Hisfingersreachedforhercoreandslipped insideofher,findingthatpleasurepointwhichmadeherlipspartfromhisandagaspescapeherlips.
“Oh!”Beccawokeup,sittingupinthebedsuddenly Shelookedaroundatthedoorway,buttherewasnofigurethere,notall manwalkingtoward her, readyto explore her bodyinthe dead ofnight. She was alone, tremblinginexcitement, her body feelingasifitwasengulfedinfire Rubbingherlegstogether,therewasawetnessthereshehadnotbeenexpecting
“OhGod,” she cursedaloudandflungherselfbackonthe bed,thinkingofthe manthathadsoinvitedher dreams withsuch suddenpleasure
She’d happilybeendrawninto that dream, enthralled bythe imagining, and evennow as she tried to banishhimfromher thoughts,shecouldnot Fullyawake,shewonderedwhatitwouldbeliketobetouchedbyhiminsuchaway
Theimagewassopassionate,sostrong,thatherhandsbegantowanderacrossherownskintosimulatethatpleasure.When shereachedbeneathhergown,sheconjuredthatdreamagain,thinkingofonemanonly
Lord Lancaster.
Beccaclutchedtotheletter inher glovedhands as shepeeredthroughthetall blackgateanddownthelongtrackthatledto BaronLancaster’shouse.
Mr Fitzwilliam’sreplytoherletterofacceptancehadcomeearlythatmorning,inwhichheaskedhertocometothehouseto meetBaronLancasteranddiscusstheproposal.
Bitingher cracked lip inthe cold, Becca stared atthe house, wonderingwhatLord Lancaster would thinkto see her again Therewas agooddeal ofdistancebetweenher andthehouse,yetevenfromhere,shecouldseeits grandeur.Thered-brick buildinglookedalmostStuartinbuild,withtallwindowsthathadbeenlinedinlead.
