She smiled at the dear faces gathered around her. “Yes! Wade and I are to be married!” She offered her left hand as proof, proud to show off her pearl-and-diamond betrothal ring.
Octavia admired the ring, which glimmered in the late afternoon light. “Married? But how?”
Cassandra waved her questions off. She couldn’t possibly explain everything in front of Lord Althorne. “I’ll tell you all about it later. I am just so happy!”
The eldest Staunton sank into a nearby armchair. She looked as if she might swoon. “I can see I owe you an apology, Your Grace. It seems you’ve made my beloved sister the happiest woman in the world.”
Wade took a seat on the sofa. Cassandra joined him on the cushions, crowding him with her hoop skirts and petticoats, but she did not care. She sat so close, holding his hand so tightly, that she might smother him.
His Lordship claimed a remaining chair. He appeared genuinely pleased for his old friend. Indeed, he radiated good cheer. There was something in his merry mood that oddly reminded her of Wade.
She suspected that Althorne was a man in love. Cassandra would not be surprised if he also had joyous news to share.
She couldn’t wait for them to find their nerve. She had to know if her suspicions were true.
“Octavia,” she said, reaching to touch her sister’s knee, “tell me you’re happy, too.”
The eldest Staunton blushed. She pressed her fingertips into Cassandra’s palm and confessed, “I suppose it is written across my forehead, isn’t it? Simon and I are engaged! We went to the cottage to tell you, but you were gone. I had no idea your Cornish holiday was permanent.”
Wade seemed as happy for Lord Althorne as he had been for himself. He shook hands with the viscount and offered warm congratulations to Octavia.
Cassandra knew that he admired her elder sister. She only hoped Octavia would learn to see Wade for the wonderful man he was—not the black reputation he’d earned.
“Where is Honoria?” she asked, at last. “Did she not wish to come?”
“Governessing,” Octavia answered. “She has taken a position in London. I did try to talk her out of it, but it seems we’ve each inherited Mama’s stubborn streak.”
“Oh dear.” She imagined Honoria leading a gaggle of schoolchildren through the streets of London.
“Never you fear, though, because she is next on my list. Simon and I intend to travel to town and see what sort of trouble our younger sister has gotten into by now.”
Someone had to look out for Honoria. Cassandra regretted not bringing the youngest Staunton to Pender Abbey when she had the chance.
Wade read her thoughts. “Don’t worry, buttercup. Honoria is a clever girl. She’ll have no trouble making her way in the world. Besides, she would’ve been lonely out here with only you and me for company.”
He was right. Honoria did not belong in the wilds of Cornwall. She did not long for the sea and the sun. But neither would Honoria be satisfied as a teacher of wealthy girls, as Octavia had been…
A footman arrived with the tea tray. Another liveried young man—they must always come in pairs—followed carrying a tray of teacakes and sandwiches. Cassandra often indulged in something sweet, but the kitchen staff had outdone themselves. A week’s worth of lemon cakes and almond sponges had been sacrificed in honor of today’s guests.
She poured the tea, passing cups and saucers first to Octavia and Althorne, and then to Wade. She served herself last and selected a wedge of almond sponge iced with sweet vanilla cream.
His Lordship surveyed the spread with a look of amusement. “I thought I sensed ‘Staunton hospitality’ cheering up this old place. Now, this proves it.”
It was difficult to imagine Wade entertaining at Pender Abbey, but he must’ve hosted guests over the years.
“I shall take that as a compliment, my lord, as you’re so fond of our particular brand of hospitality,” Cassandra said, laughing. She shared a wink with Octavia, who flushed over the rim of her teacup.
“It is an improvement.” Lord Althorne bit off a corner of cake, adding, “Wade doesn’t even take sugar in his tea—yet he has developed a sweet-tooth.”
Wade smiled through his friend’s good-natured ribbing. Althorne continued, “I wondered why you’d gone silent. I’ve missed your letters these past weeks. Leah is still waiting on her Dragoon doll, you know.”
“She’ll have it,” he replied. Wade would not break a promise to his honorary niece, even if he had to travel to London to collect the doll himself.
Cassandra struck upon an idea. “You must bring Leah to our wedding. She’d be awfully disappointed to miss it. Octavia, might she be spared for a week or two?”
“Of course. Her life is full of changes these days. A small holiday will do her good. Have you a date in mind?”
“We were thinking October, though we hadn’t quite pinned down a location. No one knows me in town, yet I hardly think a duke ought to be married in a country church.”
