“Henry blamed himself for what happened to William and he was furious with me,” Minerva admitted. “His heart couldn’t stand the betrayal and I lost him.” She appeared every year of her age and more.
Matt had nothing to say.
She looked to him. “But what’s done is done. It is over. Honor was everything to Henry. As it was to William. And now, it is up to you to save Mayfield.”
“By marrying the Reverly Heiress.” He curled his hands into fists at his sides. The world would judge Matt by his ability to rebuild Mayfield. The responsibility of such an overwhelming challenge weighed heavy on him.
“It is your role,” she replied simply. “You are Camberly.”
Yes, he was. A role his father had shunned. An unreasonable anger toward his sire rose in him as well. He was in this position because his father had fallen in love with Rose Billroy. He’d made the decision to free himself of the responsibilities of the Addison name and any claim to the title.
But Matt couldn’t do that. He was Camberly. As Alice had claimed, the title was his birthright.
A new purpose formed in his mind, one he had a feeling his grandfather and uncle would approve. “I want to know who this Hardesty is.”
Minerva jumped to her feet. “No, Matthew, please. We have not heard from the odious man since William’s death. Let it be.”
But he couldn’t. “I would be interested in what George has to say about this.”
“George—? Matthew,it is done. It is over. I pray no one ever finds out about any of this. The shame would kill me.”
“I’m not of a like mind. This Hardesty is nothing more than a common thief and, according to you, a murderer. If there is a way to track him down and bring him to justice while also wringing the money out of his worthless hide, I plan to pursue it—”
A knock sounded on the door. “What is it?” Matt asked, annoyed.
“A letter just arrived by messenger for you, Your Grace,” the maid said through the door. “I was told to tell you it is from Miss Reverly.”
He walked over to the door. Throwing it open, he took the folded missive from the maid, who said, “The messenger said Miss Reverly does not need him to wait for an answer.”
Frowning, Matt looked to his grandmother, who was very interested in the letter. “Thank you,” he murmured, and shut the door. He cracked the seal, but his mind wasn’t on missives from his “betrothed.” No, he was thinking of how quickly he could hunt down this Hardesty.
And then his plans changed as he skimmed Miss Reverly’s letter. She actually had a lovely hand. He had thought her writing would be awkward and full of the silly loops that women often favored to make their handwriting distinctive. Miss Reverly’s penmanship was highly readable and her style direct.
“What does she have to say?” Minerva asked.
“She says she is releasing me from my promise—”
“She is jilting you?”
“Apparently.” He found himself surprisingly displeased. Yes, he was angry about the marriage, but he did not like receiving the boot.
Especially in such an abrupt manner... and afterhe’dstarted to warm to the idea of marrying her for her much needed money.
Minerva stamped around in a worried little circle. “She must not do that. You have to stop her. You must go to her at once and tell her that she can’t cry off. If you let her jilt you, you’ll be tainted. Heiresses of her wealth are not common. Everyone will wonder what is wrong with you. They will ask questions. There are already whispers, what with you and Letty.”
She’d said the magic words. Matt had no desire for Letty to know that another woman had found him lacking.
“I will ride to London immediately,” he said, already moving toward the door. It was half past eleven. He could be knocking on Miss Reverly’s door before four.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Minerva promised. “We must have a wedding, Matthew. Everyone in London is expecting one.”
Chapter 2
Willa Reverly was blessedly thankful for the knock on her bedroom door.
“Miss Willa, the Countess of Dewsberry is here to see you,” Annie, her Irish maid, said through the door.
“Bring her up immediately,” Willa said, rising from her desk and the stack of papers she’d been staring at for hours in a vain attempt to make sense of her life now that she’d ruined it. For all her intentions, she’d written two things. The first had been the early morning message to Camberly ending her betrothal. The second was her desperate plea thirty minutes ago to her dear friend Cassandra, begging her to come “at once or I shall go quite mad.”
