Page 126 of Mr. Cavendish, I Presume

“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.”

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