“Oh, forgive me.” She laughed nervously. “Come in. Please.”
She stepped back, and he ducked inside. She reached for the door, but he kicked it shut with his boot. He bit off his gloves and looked around.
Willow stared, coming to terms with the living, breathing sight of him just three feet away. She could smell him. Rain, sweat, horse.Cassin. He was wet and wrinkled and mud-splattered. His hair was wild. He had not shaved. He shrugged from his greatcoat.
“You’ve ridden here from Falmouth?” she guessed. “But the weather has been dreadful.”
The weather has been dreadful?Willow cringed.
He said, “I did ride. But first I took a steamship.” A smile. “In very fine weather. I received your letter. There was no answer but to come.”
“Oh yes, the letter.” Willow forced herself to think of his family. His brother had been injured, his uncle endeavored castle intrigue. Important matters, all. She planned to leave London out of worry for these people. They should discuss them like measured adults; they were far more important than his closeness or his largeness or his . . . wet clothing, which he seemed intent on peeling off, layer by layer. He tugged at his soggy cravat and unbuttoned the top button of his waistcoat.
“I did not write to alarm you,” she said, “but honestly, I was alarmed myself. Your mother’s letters had become so infrequent. And then your uncle behaved so strangely about your signature, only to set out for Yorkshire again.”
Cassin grimaced and nodded, running a hand through his wild hair. He dropped his hat, greatcoat, and gloves on a workbench beside the door. Willow stared at his discarded things, piled in a heap. He began a slow prowl of the dim corridor, rubbing his fingers over his jaw.
“How long have you been in London?” she asked.
“I rode to town directly from Falmouth. I’ve just called to Belgrave Square, my first stop. Perry was very informative.”
Willow chuckled serenely—Oh yes, Perry—while a mix of nerves and delight fizzed beneath the surface of her skin.
He called to Belgrave Square.
Hisfirststop.
He said, “She told me about your impending journey to Yorkshire. But Sabine told me you could be found here.”
Willow nodded—thank you, Sabine—glanced around at the empty shell of the house. It was cold and dark and unfinished, an odd place for a reunion.But oh so private. . .
“This house is one of several for which my aunt and uncle will design the interiors,” she said, trying to sound calm and informative. “It’s difficult to see at this time of day, but the carpentry and appointments are the finest I’ve seen. Aunt Mary has assigned me the ground-floor music room to outfit entirely on my own. It’s a small room, but the wife of the owner is an accomplished musician, and the room is very important in the house.”
“I should expect nothing less,” he said. “And what a lucky woman she will be.” He looked up and down the corridor. “I suppose husbandly worry about your roaming empty houses at dusk has no place. You’ve come and gone as you pleased for months, haven’t you?”
“Indeed,” she said. “I have done.” She paused, watching him. “I am cautious when on a work site at any hour. I needed to look in on three samples of paint in the fading light. A ten-minute errand before I left for the north tomorrow.”
He stopped prowling and turned to her. “Yes. The north.”
A pause. Willow held her breath.
“I cannot express how grateful I am for the effort you make. More than grateful, I am humbled,” he said. “I am . . . in your debt.”
“Well, I haven’t gone yet, have I?” She breathed again. “I hope you aren’t displeased with my plan to go. Obviously I had no way to ask you. I put it off until I felt they absolutely required an ally.”
He shook his head. “Not displeased. The opposite of displeased. What can you tell me of my brother?” he said. “Your maid mentioned some illness?”
“Not an illness. An accident, I’m afraid.” She told him what she knew of Felix’s altercation with the stampeding cattle.
“Your mother’s letter about the incident rambled aimlessly,” she finished. “I could scarcely make sense of it. The tone of the thing was very frantic, and this alarmed me most of all. I could but endeavor to give some aid, even if it was only to make them feel less alone.”
“Yes, well, calling on unknown relations in a crisis was hardly part of our arrangement, was it?”
And there it was. “The arrangement.” Willow’s heart slid from her throat to the pit of her stomach.
Perhaps they would not require the privacy of the empty house. Perhaps it made no difference where they reunited.
An awkward silence settled around them, and she searched for something else they might say. She had no wish to appear meddlesome. Likely, her presence in Yorkshire would no longer be required. She could remain in London. She could see this house to completion. She would be with Tessa when the baby came. For no known reason, tears stung her eyes.
