Fantasizing about Willow was hardly a new diversion. Months of back-breaking labor in the mine had provided ample and fertile time to fixate on every conjured detail of his new countess. The irony was not lost. He had not needed her—not really, trulyrequiredher—until she was inconveniently out of reach. Now the need was single-minded and unceasing, and sometimes it took his breath away. Worry about his uncertain future faded when held up against his desire for her now, every day, forever.
When at last the steamer made landfall in Falmouth, Cassin wasted no time purchasing a fast horse, new clothes, and boots and dashing off a note to his mother.
22 April 1831
Madam,
It is my great pleasure to write you from the shores of England, only a few days’ ride from home. I am in Falmouth at the moment, having just made landfall this morning.
I look forward to seeing you and the girls and Felix very soon, but I cannot say exactly when. My priority is to settle this business with Archibald; as such, London must be first call. I will also look in on my wife.
Please write to me at her aunt’s home in Belgravia as soon as you are able. I will require the most current and relevant news of Archibald’s interference in order to properly shut down whatever he has done.
I look forward to my return to Caldera very soon.
Your son,
Brent
After he posted the letter, Cassin faced two days of hard riding to London, with little sleep in between. The spring sky hung low and dark, dropping intermittent rain, but he raised his collar, leaning in to the first proper chill he’d felt since he’d left England.
Two days later, with only an hour before dusk, he found himself, wet and sweaty but exhilarated, on the doorstep of Willow’s aunt’s home in Belgrave Square.
“The Earl of Cassin to see Lady Cassin,” he told a liveried butler, ignoring his alarmed scrutiny.
Before the man could answer, Willow’s small, frizzy-haired maid darted to the door.
“Oh, your lordship!” said the maid, her eyes large. “You’ve come! Oh, praise be, and just in time. Lady Cassin is set to travel to Yorkshire in the morning!”
“Yorkshire?” Cassin repeated slowly. He scanned the empty parlor behind the butler.
“Oh yes, the very place, if you can believe it,” said Perry. “Planning to look in on your mother and sisters and brother. Quite set on it, cannot be swayed. I am to be left behind, of course.”
“Look in on my mother?” Cassin felt like an idiot, repeating every statement, but he’d devoted so much imagination to seeing Willow, the possibility ofnotseeing her was difficult to comprehend.
“Yes, my lord,” continued Perry, “on account of your terrible uncle. And your brother taking ill. She intends to be of help to the dowager countess, even though they have never, ever met . . . ” Perry’s voice trailed off dreamily.
Cassin blinked at her, still trying to catch up. “But at the moment she is in London? She has not yet gone?”
Perry nodded importantly and shouldered around the butler. “Well, she’s not here in Wilton Crescent at the moment. She’s gone on an errand to one of the new homes. Paint. Three colors, all of thembeige.”
“Gone on an errand at dusk?” Cassin glanced around.
“Oh, dusk is the most important time for paint,” lectured Perry. “The tones change when the light fades.”
“Please tell me she’s taken Mr. Fisk or a footman. Please tell me she does not wander the streets alone at this hour.”
“Oh, but ’tis a music room, not the street,” said Perry. “But she is alone, I’m afraid. Mr. Fisk is preparing for the journey. She’s been most insistent about leaving, but he would not consent until the weather—”
“Where, Perry?” asked Cassin, shoving on his soggy hat and tightening his gloves.
“Yorkshire, my lord,” Perry repeated slowly, as if the notion was complicated.
“Notthe journey; where is my wife now?”
“Oh,right. Well, I cannot say precisely, as she does not te—”
“It’s number four, my lord,” said a voice blocked by the door.
