“Thebetrothal,” Cassandra pressed as if still uncertain she understood, “that has your servants rushing around preparing for a wedding breakfast? An event that will bethetalk of London? The whole reason Soren and I ventured from Cornwall?”
Biting her bottom lip, Willa nodded again before whispering, “Yes, that one.” She admitted, “I’ve broken it. I’m done.” And with those last words came a heady rush of both amazement at her audacity and pride in herself.
“Lord, that feels sogoodto say,” Willa declared. “I’ve sent him packing. I’mfinishedwith him. I’mfree.” She spread her arms wide to declare to the room as a whole, “I will notbe marrying Camberly, who is too full of his own consequence to givemeany of his important time. I’ve shown him what’s what.”
However, her friend’s response was not as Willa had hoped. Cassandra’s mouth opened, but she appeared too stunned to speak.
Willa filled the void, albeit with less exuberance than her previous declaration. “I know giving the duke the boot is completely out of character for me. I almost can’t believe I’ve been so daring. I’ve surprised myself. Why, I’m almost as strong-willed and unpredictable as you or Leonie.”
And then, Cassandra found her voice. She sat forward in the chair. “You are not serious? Please tell me you arenotserious?”
“But I am. I had a messenger deliver the letter this very morning. There will be no wedding.”
“No wedding? On the morrow? Oh, Willa. Willa, Willa,Willa...” Cassandra stood, her movement so abrupt, she almost knocked over the table with its cake and teapot. She caught the table before it could fall, steadied it, and then sat back down. “Youjilteda duke? Adaybefore you are to marry him?”
Annoyed by Cassandra’s reaction, Willa said primly, “That is one way of seeing it.”
“I believe that is theonlyway of seeing it. And your father approved of this?”
Willa took the chair opposite Cassandra’s. She folded her hands in her lap, squared her shoulders, and admitted, “I haven’t told Father yet. I will,” she hurried to add. “But, frankly, I’m a bit surprised byyourreaction.”
“I’m definitelystunnedby your actions.”
“Youmake it sound terrible. I’m not ‘jilting’ him. I justreleasedhim.”
“Released, jilted. They are both not good words. At least, that is the way the world will see it. Camberly asked you to marry him and you said—”
Willa cut her off with an impatient noise. “Camberlyneveractually asked me for my hand. He talked to Father, and Father accepted for me. I wasn’t even consulted.”
Cassandra leaned forward. “Did you not attend your betrothal party? The one with two hundred in attendance? Soren and I heard about it even in the wilds of Cornwall.”
“I was there.”
“Willa, why did you not speak up then if you didn’t wish to marry him?”
There was the crux of the matter.
“You know how it is, Cassandra. It was flattering to receive an offer from the man all the other debutantes wanted. And the marriage pleased Father. I was hoping for the best.”
“He will not be pleased when he hears this news.”
Cassandra was right.
“I know it is hard to speak up, but, Willa, by agreeing to the betrothal, you gave your word, your family’s solemn promise.”
“Except Camberly is nothing like the man I believed him to be.”
“What do you mean?”
Willa stood. She crossed over to the chest of drawers and opened the top one. From beneath some folded clothes, she took out a slender book and walked back to her friend.
“A book, Willa?” Cassandra half laughed her surprise. “You were not much of a reader.”
“I’m not illiterate. I just don’t carry on about them the way you do. However, this one touched me. It captured my imagination.”
Cassandra reached to take the book. “I know you are not illiterate,” she said as if in apology and opened to the title page, but then words failed her. Her expression turned incredulous. She looked up. “This is Camberly’s book of poems. You found it.”
When the new Duke of Camberly had first been introduced to London, everyone had scrambled to find a copy ofLove Fulfilledwritten by Matthew Addison. He’d penned the poems when he was in university and a nobody. Consequently, very few volumes had been published.
