“And have the tray of sweets I ordered brought up,” Willa informed the door. “Be certain there is cake.”
Because cake always made things better. Or, at least, cake madeherfeel better.
Willa crossed over to the looking glass. She wasn’t at her best. She pinched her cheeks, trying to put color in them, and pushed in the pins that had come loose from her heavy hair that had been twisted into a coil at the base of her neck. That was when she noticed she had ink stains on her fingers from her two letters and hours of toying with her pen trying to decide what to write.
She hurried to the washstand to scrub them off.
Her bedroom was as opulent as any room in a palace. Thick carpets covered the floor. The drapes were made of the finest stuff in blues and greens. It was a restful room and one that Willa, Cassandra, and their other friend, Leonie, had enjoyed over the years when they’d gathered to hash out the ball the night before or to complain when parents were being unrealistic in their expectations.
One of their chief frustrations had been being dubbed the Spinster Heiresses by the gossips. Was it their fault their fathers had enough power and wealth to demand only the best,titledhusbands for their daughters? Husbands meeting their demanding standards weren’t just ripe for the plucking. It took time and effort to attract such attention. Consequently, the friends had lingered on the Marriage Market for three long, interminable Seasons. Hence, the nickname Spinster Heiresses.
In truth, each father had turned down numerous offers for his daughter’s hand because they could afford to do so. Leonie’s father had been a rich nabob. Cassandra had been the heir to the Bingham fortune. Willa, whose father was the financier Leland Reverly, was the richest of them all and her parents’ only child.
Now Leonie and Cassandra were both married and, surprisingly—and of interest to Willa—happily so. They loved and respected the men who were their husbands. That had given her hope for her own happiness—until the Duke of Camberly had destroyed all her romantic notions.
The irony was he had been considered the prize of the Season. Every marriageable young woman had wanted him. They had stalked him. Laid traps for him. Flirted and engaged him in every way possible.
And Willa had caught him.
Except, this morning, she had thrown Camberly back—
There was another knock. Willa flew to the door and threw it open. Cassandra was there, looking golden and radiant.
The two friends were a study in contrasts. Most men had to look up to Cassandra to meet her eye, and she was as fair as a field of grain.
Willa, who was dressed in a gown of the palest rose edged in finely fashioned lace, and shoes with the slightest hint of a heel, feared there were hitching posts taller than she. She could claim to be five feet if she held her head up really high, and wore small heels.
Her hair was a rich, dark brown, and so heavy and weighty, it was the bane of her existence. She spent hours brushing and braiding and it took as many as fifty pins to style. She dearly wanted to crop it short in the latest fashion, but her father refused to let her cut so much as an inch off.
And what her father wanted, the household, including Willa, was expected to obey.
“I’m thankful you’ve come,” she told Cassandra as she pulled her into the room. Annie and a footman followed with a tray of cakes and strongly brewed tea and milk.
“Willa, what is it? Your letter—” Cassandra started before Willa warned her to silence with a finger up to her lips. Cassandra immediately stopped speaking, her blue eyes a bit surprised and confused that this would be one ofthoseconversations.
In the past, Willa had been the one her friends confided in. She rarely had secrets... but she had one now. Except her secret would not be kept quiet for long. Too soon the world would know what she’d done.
The two friends awkwardly waited for the servants to finish their duties and leave.
The moment the door shut, Cassandra demanded, “What has happened? Your letter said you needed me for the ‘direst’ of reasons.”
“Sit here,” Willa said, directing her to the pair of chairs before the cold hearth. The refreshments were on a table between them. “Are you feeling well?”
Cassandra had shared only yesterday that she believed she was with child. The only other person she’d told besides Willa was her husband, Soren, because that was how close the two friends were.
“I’m fine. I barely show at all, and thankfully so. I would not wish to miss celebrating your marriage with you.” Unlike Leonie, who was advanced enough in her pregnancy that she’d been advised not to travel.
“I would not have noticed if you hadn’t told me.” Willa picked up a small footstool and started to place it under Cassandra’s feet, until she realized her friend had no trouble reaching the floor, unlike her.
Nor was Cassandra to be put off. She caught Willa’s arm and gently tugged it for her attention. “What is it? Why did you summon me so urgently?”
Willa slowly stood, the footstool and cake tray forgotten.
“Ihavebrokenmy betrothal to the Duke of Camberly.”
Cassandra stared as if Willa had spoken gibberish. And then she sat back in the chair, her head tilting. “Beg pardon? Did you say youendedthe betrothal? The one where you are having the weddingtomorrow?”
Willa nodded.
