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352 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published February 13, 2018
The risk of discovery by Lady Lytton was a welcome new source of panic, but Willow was too preoccupied to really care about her mother. Against all odds, the Earl of Cassin held great potential. His reserve. His caution. His willingness to flee the house. Very great potential, indeed.
And flee they did, down the corridor, through the ballroom, and out onto the terrace that led to the garden. They did not run, precisely, but they were hardly strolling.
The new location meant there would be less time for everything, of course, no more beating around the bush. He would have to declare himself, yea or nay. But perhaps this, too, was preferred. In Willow's view, she'd already said enough. All the while, he'd said―well, what had he said? He'd done little more than challenge her.
But he did not go, she thought.
Even now, he did not go.
"I'm leaving," he announced, resuming his prowl, "and I won't be back. I believe we've said all available words on the matter." When he came to the glass-paned terrace door, he stopped and tested the knob. The door yawned open to the cool morning. He remained where he stood and slammed it shut.
She watched his struggle. He'd said no in so many ways she'd lost count.
He went on, "Marrying a stranger for dowry money is utterly out of the question." He embarked on another lap of the room. He was a tiger in a cage.
Willow said, "Perhaps you should reconvene with your partners to gauge their current feeling on the matter."
"You've selective hearing," he said. "Or perhaps you think I'm coming 'round."
"What I think," she said, gathering her nerve," is that you do not not like me."
He stopped walking. He was behind her now.
"Is that what you think?" he whispered.