Page 49 of The Secret Identity of the Lord's Aide
Bess didn’t realise she was holding her breath. She watched Lord Linfield mount the stage—towering over the rest of them with his six foot four frame. To her surprise, he didn’t reach for his notes for his speech. Instead, he addressed the crowd with firm confidence.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “It’s my unique pleasure to speak to you here today, just a few weeks before the end of the year. I know that next year will be a strange shift; that many of you are hunting for ways to become more comfortable, to provide for your families and become better friends. And I can assure you that the tasks I have in mind, when I reach Parliament, will ensure this more bountiful future.”
Bess couldn’t believe it. It seemed Lord Linfield had actually memorised her speech! He hadn’t put himself through such a task in the many weeks since she’d begun working for him, and she felt mesmerised, knowing that he’d assuredly stayed up many nights, holding her words against his tongue.
Bess reminded herself to breathe after that and began to scribble notes regarding his manner with the people, his newfound confidence. Frequently, her eyes flickered up to the crowd. They were completely captivated with his words.
Of course, yet again, Lord Linfield didn’t include the portion of the speech that Lady Elizabeth had written about the Judgement of Death Act. Eternally, she wrote to the side of it that it was still “optional,” if he hadn’t yet restructured his opinion. Instead, he hopped over those paragraphs to the conclusion, flashing a final smile to the crowd and giving them a firm, flat-handed wave.
Within seconds, he was off the stage, allowing the next speaker. Propelled by some unseen force, Bess found herself churning through the crowd towards where Lord Linfield watched the rest of the proceedings. She swallowed hard, still listening to the surrounding audience as they applauded his speech. “Really a swell job. Didn’t know he had it in him.”
As Bess walked, she felt brimming with some sort of unspeakable hope. She couldn’t possibly comprehend it. What would happen when she spotted Lord Linfield on the other side of this all-but impenetrable crowd? She imagined strange things. Kisses and touching, big smiles that seemed charged with promise.
Ha. As if that could ever be her life.
With a final jostle, she shot through the crowd and found herself half-panting, staring at the small line of Richard, Lord Linfield, and a few other members of Parliament, there to watch the charade. Richard leaned close to Lord Linfield, whispering something in his ear. Bess felt a jolt of fear. How could she possibly approach the two of them, given the parameters she had set for their arrangement? Nobody was to know who she was: a speechwriter. Nobody was to know her name.
Already, it had been an incredible blow, hearing Lord Beauchamp speak about his memory of her. While of course, she, too, liked envisioning herself as this past-debutante (how beautiful she’d been…), it still drudged up painful memories. Lord Beauchamp hadn’t seemed to know what had befallen her in the years since he’d left the scene. But that wasn’t to say that he hadn’t fought to find out and had then given that information over to Lord Linfield …
She knew it was up to her to be upfront with the information. To tell Lord Linfield the truth. No matter how difficult that truly was.
But just as Bess was preparing to high-tail it back though the crowd and escape back to The Rising Sun offices, Lord Linfield turned his head towards her and captured her. Immediately, his smile widened. He turned his entire body towards her. Bess felt frozen, completely enraptured. If someone approached her just now and flicked her shoulder, she might have fallen to the ground.
“Lady Elizabeth Byrd!” Lord Linfield said, bowing his head as he approached. It seemed he was conscious that she needed to be regarded as someone he hardly knew.
For this, Bess was both grateful and anxious.
“Hello,” Bess murmured, allowing him to take her hand.
Lord Linfield stepped closer. “It’s good to see you. I never imagined we would be able to connect after a speech. Always it seemed as though you slipped out of the crowd like some kind of ghost.”
Bess chuckled and swept a curl behind her ear. She turned her eyes to the ground, feeling lost in thought. “You really were remarkable up there,” she said.
Lord Linfield moved his lips towards her ear. They were but inches away. Bess felt unable to breathe. “I suppose you noticed that I memorised it.”
“It made all the difference in the world,” Bess said, unable to stop a giggle from escaping her lips. She felt strangely girlish, a woman far younger than herself.
There was a long pause. Silence overtook the crowd as another speaker stomped onto the stage. Bess felt out of her element. Everything in her told her to turn away from the crowd, run back to The Rising Sun offices. She didn’t belong out there, certainly not with Lord Linfield.
As the speaker began, Lord Linfield whispered once more in her ear. She relished the breath upon her ear. She relished the smell of his tobacco. She so yearned to turn her lips into his, to kiss him there in front of everyone, pressed down upon by that impenetrable grey winter sky.
“I really do need to thank you properly,” he said.
“For what?” Bess asked, stitching her eyebrows over her eyes.
“You know for what,” Lord Linfield said. “You’ve gone above and beyond the call of any duty. My speeches have been spoken of far and wide. You’re a remarkable writer, Lady Elizabeth. And I want to have you back to mine for dinner. You can’t possibly refuse.”
Bess’s lips parted. She ached to bring her cheek just a few inches forward, to drop it against his chest and hold it tight. But she kept herself far back, knowing that to do that would give her entire heart away. She knew better than to do that.
She knew so much better.
“Please, Lady Elizabeth. You can bring Lady Irene Follett along with you if it pleases you. She’s quite a spitfire, isn’t she? Always one to speak her mind.” Again he paused, looking at her almost incredulously. “And really, I believe you to be the same, Lady Elizabeth, if it doesn’t mean I’m speaking out of turn. To be frank, the words you put out on the page are incredibly powerful. And perhaps you need only something like a stage, like I have, to give them to the people.”
Bess allowed herself to gaze into his eyes for only a moment. Her tongue felt strange and tense in her mouth. How could she possibly speak? She swallowed hard and then nodded, giving him a soft grin.
“Wonderful,” Lord Linfield said. “I’ll have the cook prepare something perfect for you. It’s a celebration. For, the men have told me I’m all but set for a position in Parliament.”
He leaned a bit closer, so much so that Bess could feel his breath upon the back of her neck.
