Page 96 of An Unwitting Alliance
Mr. Buttars let him in, and Tom politely requested that Cassie join him in the drawing room.
Thirty minutes passed and she never came. Every second was agonizing.
Mr. Vail came to greet him instead. “I am afraid she will not see you.”
His heart sank. “I cannot blame her.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Might I intrude one more night in your home?”
“You are always welcome here, Tom.”
The Vails had just finished dinner and gathered around him. Cassie, however, was absent. She could be impossibly stubborn when she wanted to be. The family talked about the added staff they would hire on and the updates they would make to the house with their inheritance. Tom was happy for them, but his mind could think of little else besides Cassie.
His feet were heavy as he returned to his room and sat on his packed trunk. The need for something familiar called to him. Slipping off the trunk, he undid the latch and pushed the lid open. Sitting on top of his things was the letter from the Matchmaking Mamas, as if Joseph had known Tom would come for it. He begrudgingly plucked it up. Instead of reading it, he moved to the window and glanced at the evening sky. Where was the rain they’d had so much of a few nights ago? Should not the sky be mourning with him and violins singing their saddest tune from the heavens above? And where was his brother in all of this?
“I can’t leave her alone, Charley. I love her.”
Depressed, he made his way to his bed and flipped open the letter. “Do your worst, love-addled matrons of Brookeside.”
He found Grandma Fielding’s words.
Being alone is not all it’s cracked up to be.
He stared at the words and gave a short laugh. “Very funny.”
A knock sounded on the door. There was no way it would be Cassie. It was probably Peter wanting to discuss Oxford.
Pushing to his feet, Tom made his way to the door, hiding his letter in the hand that also held the latch as he opened it.
Nutmeg?
“Have you seen Cassie?” she asked.
Tom shook his head. “She’s had a long day. She has earned some time to herself.”
Megs folded her arms, looking annoyed. “I know you and Cassie had words, but don’t you think you should speak with her?”
Tom fumbled with the handle. He wanted to speak with Cassie, but not until she was ready. “A good night’s rest will do us all some good.”
Megs shook her head, clearly in complete disagreement. “And when are you planning to apologize?”
“Soon.” He wanted to tell her to mind her own business. Right now he was emotionally and physically spent. “When your sister is ready to talk, she knows where to find me.”
Megs huffed and stalked away.
The sisters were two of a kind.
After he closed the door, his eyes went back to the letter in his hand. Despite his desire to disregard the words, he found himself wondering how long Grandma Fielding had been a widow. Probably two dozen years. And then she had lost her son. She knew what it was like to lose someone, and still she voted for him to take the risk. The thought humbled him, and he found himself reading the final piece of advice, written by his mother.
Loss is not a reason not to love. It is the greatest reason to love.
—Mama
Tom read her words a dozen times. It was easily the single most important piece of advice Mama could have given him—an answer to an unspoken prayer. “What do you think, Charley? Cassie is the purpose I have been searching for, isn’t she? Will a life devoted to her make me feel whole again?”
But he did not need Charley or any heavenly apparition to tell him the answer. The warmth filling his chest and the lightness in his limbs provided all the answer he needed. He sat on his bed for some time, completely lost in his head. An hour passed, maybe more, when a second knock jolted him back to awareness.
His heart lurched. Cassie.
This time he jumped to his feet. He was going to do things right this time. He would be whatever she needed. He opened the door.
