Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

Chapter 22

In the end, Thomas did do the right thing.

Almost.

Amelia had expected that he would seek out her father the next day and formally ask for her hand in marriage. Instead, he asked her to deliver the note and his ring as planned, adding that he would see her in a fortnight in England.

He loved her, he said. He loved her more than he could ever say, but he needed to return on his own.

Amelia understood.

And so it came to pass that she was sitting in the Burges Park drawing room almost three weeks later, in the company of her mother, all four of her sisters, and two of her father’s dogs, when the butler appeared in the doorway and announced:

“Mr. Thomas Cavendish, my lady.”

“Who?” was Lady Crowland’s immediate reply.

“It’s Wyndham!” Elizabeth hissed.

“He’s not Wyndham any longer,” Milly corrected.

Amelia looked down at her book-some dreadful etiquette guide her mother had termed “improving”-and smiled.

“Why on earth would he come here?” Lady Crowland asked.

“Perhaps he is still engaged to Amelia,” Milly suggested.

Her mother turned to her with utter horror. “Don’t we know?”

“I don’t think we do,” Milly replied.

Amelia kept her eyes on her book.

“Amelia,” Lady Crowland said sharply. “What is the status of your betrothal?”

Amelia tried to answer with a shrug and a blank look, but it became quickly apparent that this was not going to suffice, so she said, “I am not certain.”

“How is that possible?” Milly asked.

“I did not break it off,” Amelia said.

“Did he?”

“Er…” Amelia paused, unsure of where to direct her reply, as the query had come from five different sources. Her mother, she finally decided, and she turned in her direction and said, “No. Not formally.”

“What a muddle. What a muddle.” Lady Crowland brought her hand to her head, looking much aggrieved. “You shall have to end it, then. He will not do so; he is far too much of a gentleman for that. But surely he would never expect you to marry him now.”

Amelia bit her lip.

“He is most likely here to provide you with the opportunity to end it. Yes, that must be it.” Lady Crowland turned to the butler and said, “Show him in, Granville. And the rest of you-” She waved a hand in the general direction of her daughters, which was not easy, as they were scattered about the room. “We shall greet him and then discreetly make our regrets and leave.”

“A mass exodus is meant to be discreet?” Milly asked.

Lady Crowland gave her a look, then turned to Amelia, exclaiming, “Oh! Do you think your father should be here?”

“I do,” Amelia said, feeling remarkably serene, all things considered. “I really do.”

“Milly,” Lady Crowland said, “go find your father.”

Milly’s mouth fell open. “I can’t leave now.”

Lady Crowland let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, was a mother ever so beleaguered?” She turned to Elizabeth.

“Oh, no,” Elizabeth said instantly. “I don’t want to miss a thing.”

“You two,” Lady Crowland said, waving her hand toward her two youngest. “Go find your father, and no complaining about it.” She put her hand to her head. “This is going to give me a megrim, I’m sure.” When her daughters did not move quickly enough, she added, “There is nothing to see here! Wyndham-”

“Cavendish,” Milly corrected.

Lady Crowland rolled her eyes. “Whoever heard of such a thing? Long-lost cousin, indeed.” And then, with remarkable verbal agility, she turned back to the two younger girls hovering near the doorway. “Go!”

They went, but not before skidding into Thomas, who had just been shown in. He was holding a rather large, flat package, which, at Lady Crowland’s direction, he set down against the wall.

“Lady Crowland,” he said, executing a deep bow.

Amelia felt an elbow in her ribs. Elizabeth’s.

“He doesn’t look devastated,” Elizabeth whispered. “Didn’t he just lose everything?”

“Maybe not everything,” Amelia murmured. But Elizabeth did not hear; she was too busy trying not to appear as if she were gawking, which of course she was.

Thomas turned to the three Willoughby sisters. “Lady Elizabeth,” he said politely, “Lady Amelia, Lady Millicent.”

They all bobbed their curtsies, and he returned the gesture with an elegant tilt of his head.

Lady Crowland cleared her throat. “What a pleasant surprise this is, your, er…”

“Mr. Cavendish,” he said with gentle humor. “I have had a few weeks to become accustomed to it.”

“And of course it is your name,” Milly put in.

“Millicent!” her mother scolded.

“No, no,” Thomas said with a wry smile. “She is correct. Thomas Cavendish has been my name since birth.”

There was an awkward moment, then Lady Crowland said, “You appear to be in good health.”

“Very good, my lady. And you?”

“As well as can be expected.” She sighed, tapping her chest a few times. “Children can be so exhausting.”

“I hope to find that out for myself someday,” Thomas said.

Lady Crowland colored at that, stammering, “Well, of course we all hope to be blessed by children, don’t we?”

“I can’t recall the last time she referred to me as a blessing,” Milly muttered.

Amelia ignored her. She was far too happy just to gaze at Thomas from across the room. She’d missed him, but she hadn’t realized just how much until she could finally see him, with her own eyes. Only now she wanted to touch him. She wanted to throw her arms around him and burrow into his embrace. She wanted to kiss him, to smell him, to be near him.

She sighed. Apparently quite loudly. Milly kicked her, and it was then that she realized everyone was looking at her.

Amelia just grinned. She couldn’t help it.

Her mother gave her an odd look, then turned to Thomas and said, “I expect you would like a few moments of privacy with Amelia.”

“I would like that above all things,” he said smoothly, “although I also-”

“Cavendish!”

Amelia looked to the door. Her father had arrived.

“Lord Crowland,” Thomas greeted him.

“Was wondering when you’d return. Not that I blamed you for deserting us in Ireland. Very well, I suppose we have matters to take care of.” He glanced about the room, as if only then noticing the flock of Willoughby women standing stiffly throughout. “Hmmph. Perhaps in my office?”

Amelia fully expected him to agree. Thomas would never make a formal proposal of marriage without first securing permission from her father. Or at least trying to. She did not know what Thomas would do if her father did not agree, but she had every faith that they would be married.

It would just be so much easier if her family made no protest.

But Thomas surprised her. Indeed, he surprised everyone when he said, “There is no need to retire to another room. I have nothing to say that cannot be said in front of everyone.”

“I love when people say that,” Milly remarked.

“Milly!” Elizabeth hissed.

“He can’t hear me.”

“I can, actually,” Thomas murmured.

Amelia had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Are you done?” Lord Crowland demanded, giving his three eldest an annoyed glance.

They did not reply; there was only so much insubordination one could safely demonstrate in such a setting.

“Very well, then,” Lord Crowland said, turning to Thomas. “What is it you need to tell me?”

“First of all,” Thomas replied, “I wish to formally dissolve the betrothal contract.”

Elizabeth gasped, and even Milly looked aghast at this public declaration.

Amelia just smiled. She had no idea what he had planned, but she trusted him.

“Consider it done,” Lord Crowland said. “Although I rather thought it was already null.”

Thomas tipped his head ever so slightly. “It’s good to make things clear, though, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lord Crowland blinked a few times, unsure of what he was getting at.

“I would like to make one more thing clear,” Thomas said.

And then he turned.

Looked Amelia in the eyes.

Walked across the room.

Took her hands.

The room fell away, and there was just him…and her…and joy. Amelia felt herself start to laugh-silent and giddy-with far too much happiness than she could ever keep inside.

“Amelia,” he said, and his eyes never left hers.

She started to nod, even though he hadn’t asked her anything. But she couldn’t help it. He had only to whisper her name and she wanted to shout. Yes! Yes!

He dropped to one knee. “Amelia Willoughby,” he said, a little louder now, “will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

She kept nodding. She couldn’t stop.

“I ask you,” he continued, “because this time it is your choice.”

“Yes,” she whispered. And then she shouted it. “Yes! Yes!”

He slipped a ring on her shaking finger. She had not even noticed that he’d been holding one, so intent had she been on his face.

“I love you,” he said. Right there, in front of everyone.

“I love you, too.” Her voice shook, but the words were true.

He stood then, still holding her hand, and turned to her father. “I do hope you will give us your blessing.”

His tone was light, but the intention was clear. They would marry with or without it.

“Can you provide for her?” Lord Crowland asked bluntly.

“I have reached a settlement with the new duke. She shall want for nothing.”

“You won’t have a title,” Lady Crowland pointed out, but not unkindly. It was more of a reminder, a gentle check that her daughter had thought things through.

“I don’t need one,” Amelia answered. And later, when she thought about it, she supposed that all of her love for him must have been shining in her face because her mother grew misty, mumbling some sort of nonsense about dust as she dabbed at her eyes.

“Well, then,” Lord Crowland said, looking very much as if he’d rather be out with his hounds. “I suppose it’s settled.” Then, as an afterthought: “Again.”

“I should have married you sooner,” Thomas said to Amelia, bringing one of her hands to his lips.

“No, you shouldn’t have done. I might not have fallen in love with you if you’d been my husband.”

“Care to explain that?” he asked, his smile amused.

“Not really,” she said, feeling very cheeky.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said quite suddenly. “I brought you a gift.”

She grinned despite herself; she’d never been so sophisticated that she could hide her excitement for gifts.

He strode to the opposite side of the room, past her entire family, who were still watching the tableau with some disbelief, and picked up the large flat package he’d brought in earlier.

“Over here,” he directed, setting it down on a nearby table.

Amelia hastened to his side, as did the rest of the Willoughbys. “What is it?” she asked, beaming up at him.

“Open it,” he urged. “But carefully. It’s delicate.”

She did, untying the string and then gingerly peeling off the paper.

“What is that?” Milly demanded.

“Do you like it?” Thomas asked.

Amelia nodded, overwhelmed. “I love it.”

“What is it?” Milly persisted.

It was a map. A heart-shaped map.

“A cordiform projection,” Thomas told her.

She looked up at him excitedly. “It does not distort area. Look how small Greenland is.”

He smiled. “I will confess that I purchased it more for its heart-shaped properties.”

She turned toward her family. “Is this not the most romantic gift you have ever seen?”

They stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

“A map,” Lady Crowland said. “Isn’t that interesting?”

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “May I see the ring?”

Amelia thrust out her arm, letting her sisters ooh and ahh over her new diamond while she gazed up at her new-that was to say, her new old-fiancé.

“Is this where I am meant to make a clever comment about your having found the map of my heart?” he asked.

“Can you do it without making me cry?”

He pondered that. “I don’t think so.”

“Very well, say it, anyway.”

He did.

And she cried.

“Well, that’s a love match,” Milly declared.

They nodded. It was, indeed.