Matilda was practically vibrating with anxiety by the time a full hour had passed. She half expected a path to be worn clear through to the wood floor beneath the fine carpet of her bedchamber due to her pacing back and forth. She actually jumped when she finally heard a soft knock on her door. She frantically smoothed her skirts, held her head up proudly and opened the door. The earl was in the corridor just outside, his tall, imposing figure dwarfing her. She wasn’t particularly short, at least not compared to most women, but Castleton stood well over six feet.
His gray eyes locked with hers and he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if thinking over what they were about to do. “Are you still willing to—”
“Yes,” she hastily whispered and stepped into the hall with him. The last thing
