“I . . . I beg your pardon?” Willow’s voice belonged to someone else.
“ ‘Brent Caulder, the Earl of Cassin,’ ” her mother read. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I thought he’d come about the roan mare, but he made himself very clear. He is here foryou,darling. Your father told you that eventually the gentlemen would come. Oh, and you’ve worn the purple. So pretty. I’ll tell him you’ll be right down.”
Willow stared at her mother. Vaguely, she was aware that Perry had begun to bounce up and down behind her.
Her mother frowned. “Whatever is the matter with your maid?”
Willow reached behind her and grabbed Perry’s wrist.
“Cassin . . . Cassin . . . ” mused Lady Lytton, looking at the card again. “I have not heard of this family, but I shall look them up. When he spoke, his accent suggested somewhere north. Yorkshire, perhaps? However did you meet an earl from Yorkshire?”
“Ah . . . ” began Willow. A benefit of repelling most every man she met was never having to embellish them. “He is an acquaintance of Tessa St. Croix,” she lied.
“Ah, yes, of course,” said Lady Lytton. “Their business dealings acquaints the family with a great many gentleman.”
Willow needed to hear her say it again. “Lord Cassin is here? Now?”
Lady Lytton laughed again. “But you are overcome with nerves, aren’t you? How charming. Of course he will find you lovely; do not fret. And remember . . . ” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “No one can prove what the doctors say about your—about you. It’s better left unmentioned, to be sure. Such an awkward, indelicate topic. Mark my words.”
Willow made no answer, and her mother turned away. “I was meant to watch the grooms run a new stallion this morning,” her mother said. “I have him on loan from Enderby, but I shall put it off.”
“W-why?” asked Willow. If the earl really had come, the last thing the situation needed was her mother’s presence.
“Do not fret. I shan’t hover. But I can hardly leave the two of you alone in the house, now can I? I shall read the papers over breakfast while you receive him in the drawing room. How is that? And Wilhelmina?” prompted Lady Lytton. “Pray do not stare at the man like a fish on a plate. If only you could see your expression. You look terrified. Honestly, I would not expect this from the girl who has begged for months to relocate alone to London. How correct I have been to forbid it, if this is how you react to one young man. His mount is lovely, by the way—a Lipizzan stallion.”
“I am not terrified,” Willow said, the only thing she could safely assert, despite its being not entirely true.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Cassin had come to Leland Park to tell her,no, thank you. In person. Face-to-face.
He came to assure her, also in person, that her advertisement would not be discussed with another living soul. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.
If there was time, he would caution her against future trolling for husbands with misleading advertisements on the docks in London.
After this, he would bid her farewell. Forever. He would not linger in Surrey. They would share no further interaction. And above all, he would not marry her, not even for £60,000.
Thatwas why he’d come.
He repeated this reasoning to himself over and over again while he waited again in the blue drawing room. The dogs had returned, crowding in the doorway to consider him. When Willow’s mother strode into the room for an introduction, they’d swept in at her feet. Now the countess had gone and the dogs with her—all except for one, a petite butterscotch-colored puff with a fox’s face. She sat before him and stared up as if waiting for the truth.
“What?” Cassin asked the dog. “Shall I tell you that I came because Joseph and Stoker have descended into madness? An affliction hidden from me all these years?”
Instead of laughing at Cassin’s description of W. J. Hunnicut and her outrageous offer, his partners had been intrigued. Aggressively intrigued. Startlingly intrigued.
What of the girl’s friends? they wished to know.
How old? How much did their dowries offer?
Why were they in such a blind rush to leave Surrey?
Cassin had been dumbfounded by their interest and invoked every logical argument to dissuade it, all to no avail. It wastheirfault he’d returned—their fault and the fault of his own sense of honor. He would decline her offer in person, and he would go.
“Careful,” said a female voice from the doorway. “That dog is a known mind reader.”
Slowly, Cassin looked up. Of all the promises he had made to himself about the call, the most urgent had been not to stare, not to engage her, not to slide into the same unhinged, boggled-mind reaction he’d had the day before.
Today, he knew what to expect.
