“I know Althorp and consider him to be reasonable and fair,” mused Bryson. “You should have no trouble convincing him of the machinations of your uncle. His agreement to see you on such short notice is a very good sign, indeed.”
“This was my thinking,” said Cassin.
“Yes, but what of the party his lovely countess wishes to attend?” prompted Mrs. Courtland.
“Right,” said Bryson. “Lady Landfair. I’m in the acquaintance of the baron and his wife—”
“Of course you are, darling,” sighed Mrs. Courtland.
“Procuring an invitation should be no effort at all. We’ve our own summons to a forthcoming ball in their new home. Next month, I believe it is.”
Mrs. Courtland made a face. “I won’t go.”
“You will go, darling,” said Mr. Courtland, “if only to compliment Lady Cassin’s interiors.”
“Oh, I suppose I could be troubled for that.” She gave Cassin a wink.
“Thank you so much,” said Cassin, rising. “I cannot express my gratitude, honestly.”
“Wait just a moment, if you please,” said Bryson. “Can we not pry some insight from you, anything at all, into the marriage of our wayward Jon Stoker? Please, Cassin, honestly. What can you tell us? Elisabeth worries so.”
Cassin rolled his neck and returned to his seat.
“Anything?” said Mrs. Courtland, scooting to the edge of the sofa. “We have written to Belgrave Square several times to call on his wife, Sabine, but she always sends her regrets. She is perfectly cordial but quite . . . resolute. We should like to support her in any way we can. It had been our plan to make the acquaintance of all three of the girls. And now to hear that Joseph’s young wife is expecting a baby?”
“Yes,” said Cassin uncomfortably, locking and unlocking his hands. “I understand your curiosity; truly I do. But there is very little I can say, I’m afraid. You are correct that the marriages were not traditional. But the six of us have made a sort of mutual vow of, er, discretion as we sort things out, each in our own time. For loyalty’s sake, all I can say is that your desire to know the brides is no different from my wishes and Joseph’s. I cannot speak for Stoker, but I believe it may even be his wish, which is a rare sentiment, indeed, coming from him.”
He paused and looked at the floor. “We would know our wives,” he said. Looking up again, he told Elisabeth, “In time, I hope we will. I never suspected to be the first to do so, but I will not deny that I feel very grateful. If I had one piece of advice for each of my partners, it would be to facilitate that knowledge as soon as possible. Every day that I did not know Willow was a wasted day, indeed.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Cassin did not fail in his promise to procure an invitation to Lady Landfair’s garden party in Eaton Square. The hand-lettered invitation arrived later the same day, while Willow led Cassin on a walking tour of Belgravia.
“Look what’s come,”her aunt sang when they returned.
Willow had been conditioned by these last five months to go very, very still, strumming with breathless hope, when anyone came at her with a letter. She froze in the act of removing her pelisse.
“Landfair’s garden party,” her aunt nearly whooped, waving the invitation in the air. “When the baroness takes a victory lap, you shall be trotting along beside her.”
Willow looked to Cassin. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Her husband ducked his head to her ear and whispered, “You may thank me later,” before sweeping away her pelisse.
It was a promise that she made good on, although they struggled to keep quiet and resist toppling from Willow’s small, soft bed in her basement room.
The next morning was devoted to negotiating with Perry about what she would wear to the party. When luncheon came, they were still at odds. Only when Mr. Fisk was asked to have a say did they settle on a full silk dress in icy turquoise, the soft fabric just a few shades lighter than Willow’s eyes.
“You look like atropical waterfall,” sighed Perry, fluffing the skirt from the hem.
“Better than a tropical guano mine, I suppose,” said Willow, hoping she was not overdone.
Cassin was in meetings all morning and returned to escort her with very little time. Between Perry’s secluded efforts on Willow’s hair and Mr. Fisk giving Cassin a fresh shave, they did not cross paths until the earl clipped up the stairs to collect her in the parlor.
He froze when he saw her. “I will never grow weary of looking at you,” he said gruffly.
Willow smiled, taking her own long look. How was she in possession of a husband so tall, and tanned, and broad chested? Impeccably dressed, a gentleman on sight. The fine wool of his ebony coat stretched tautly over a grey waistcoat and shirt the color of snow.
“How was your meeting with Lord Althorp?” Willow asked.
