“He said it wouldn’t be fair, as my resources were so much more extensive than his, and therefore we should agree to offer her the same wages.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Why wouldn’t he want me to know he had money?”

“Perhaps he thought as it made a difference then . . .” Beryl said cautiously.

“Don’t be absurd.” Camille scoffed. “It made no difference then.”

“But did he know that?”

“Oh, there was a comment about how I would marry him if he had money, and how, as he didn’t, it didn’t matter. Something like that.” She shrugged. “But he should have known me better.” Aside from everything else, that was one part of this that had always angered her. “He should have trusted me.”

“He was a boy in love.” Mother shrugged. “They are even more stupid than men in love.”

“I couldn’t have married him, anyway.” She narrowed her eyes. “Not that he asked me.”

“The beast,” Beryl mumbled around a mouthful of gingerbread. She looked at Delilah. “This is exceptional.”

“Isn’t it?” Delilah nodded. “Try the scones.”

“Why not?” Mother said, then glanced at her youngest daughter. “The scones you say?” Delilah nodded.

Camille stared at her mother. “What do you mean, ‘why not?’ For one thing, he didn’t ask me. For another, I was to marry Harold the very next day. What was I supposed to do?”

Mother shrugged. “It would have been most distressing, but you could have called off your wedding.”

“I know I was rather shocked when I heard the story that you hadn’t done exactly that,” Delilah said, “given your penchant for impulse.”

“People call off weddings at the last possible moment all the time,” Mother added. “Ask Lord Stillwell.”

“And done what? Chase after a man who makes a grand announcement about love and then runs off?”

“Odder things have happened,” Mother said.

“You were expecting me to marry Harold!”