I took to daydreaming about Atlas coming to rescue me. He’d profess his love and demand to marry me. His mother, of course, would overlook my heritage after the way I had helped her daughter. And Augusta would finally have a sister again.
But as each day passed, I wondered if Atlas was even looking for me—if he had even wanted to after learning the truth about me from Augusta. It had been two long weeks. If he had wanted to come, wouldn’t he have come by now? It was even worse to wonder if something had happened and he couldn’t have come even if he had wanted to.
A tear dripped onto the paper in my hands, marring it with one splotch and then another. I ached for him to come. Oh, why did he not come?
Nora came in to help me dress. “It’s time.”
Reginald had said it was only fair that I meet my fiancé and give him a chance. After all, if word got around about my escapades, I might not receive another proposal of marriage. Though thoroughly convinced I would prefer spinsterhood to Mr. Hanover, I had little choice in the matter. My brother made the arrangements, and Mr. Hanover was on his way to meet me. I pushed aside the ruined paper on my desk. The blankness echoed the void in my heart, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at it.
The perfect apology to Atlas seemed futile to write.
I pushed myself to my feet. “Let’s get this over with.”
I selected a gown that was neither my best nor my worst and a pair of netted gloves—with fewer seams to fuss over. Adding a simple gold chain to my throat, I fingered the cold metal. I had no intention of impressing him, but I did desire confidence. While Nora twisted my hair up, I notedthe warm sunshine filtering through my window. The weather was much too fine for a doomed meeting.
After I met Nora’s expectations with my appearance—since I did not care one wit—I settled in the drawing room with a stack of books I had already read at least three times and waited for the wretched deed to be done. Reginald took up residence in the armchair beside the sofa, reading the newspaper and acting as if this morning was the same as any other he had experienced. Then again, he wasn’t meeting the person he would be forced to marry.
I heard a commotion coming from outside the drawing room toward the front door. I glanced at the clock on the mantel and groaned. “He’s early.”
Reginald closed the paper in his hands and set it aside. “Isn’t early better than late?”
I glared at him in response.
“Chin up. He’s not old or bald. You might even think him handsome.”
“If I don’t, will you be done with this silly charade?”
He smirked. “My sister can be such a wit.”
I made a face back at him, something I never would have done if Mother would have been alive. In fact, I wondered if I had picked up the mannerism from Augusta. I would have to examine that thought later. I quickly schooled my expression when the drawing door opened. Pushing to my feet, I held very still as the butler announced Mr. Hanover.
“Lord Camden and Miss Wilde to see you both.”
I gasped. Those were not the names I had expected to hear. “Let them in!” I squealed. Throwing decorum out the window, I raced to the door just as they entered. “What are you doing here?” I threw my arms around Augusta, who threw her arms right back around me.
“We had to come!” she said with a laugh.
I clung tightly to her. “I am ever so glad! I’ve missed you so.”
I pulled back and instinctively reached for Atlas. My arms awkwardly froze outstretched before him. I could not hug him. We were not engaged. In fact, I was rather engaged elsewhere.
Dropping my arms, I hid my hands behind my back. But even if I could not touch him, the sight of him filled my senses with pure happiness—his dark golden hair, ruffled from his travels, his clothes fitted to his broad shoulders and lean form, and his bright-green eyes, lined with gray, resting on me.
He was safe. And he was here.
“Welcome to Norwood Hall,” I breathed.
“Thank you.” Atlas’s warm smile could melt butter in a snowstorm. Or at least it had that effect on me.
“We love it already,” Augusta cooed.
“Lord Camden,” Reginald said from behind me. I stepped toward Augusta to let Reginald closer.
“Lowry,” Atlas responded, his voice steady.
There was something unusual about the greeting between the two men. My gaze bounced between the two of them. I had forgotten that Reginald had once known Lord Camden. “How do you know each other?”
“We met at university,” Reginald said.
