Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book? *

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

What moment from the book you enjoyed the most? *

It can be a character, a scene, a trait, or anything, you have enjoyed.

Do you enjoy sequels telling the stories of the children of the previous protagonists? *

• Yes, I love to have a look in the future and see what has happened to the characters when their children grow up.
• Not so much. I prefer to read about the same circle of characters and their siblings/friends, instead of moving to the next generation.

Do you think the conflict in the end got resolved too quickly, which made the last scene somewhat anticlimactic? *

• I'd say yes. I needed to see Matilda suffer the consequences of her actions a bit longer. She risked ruining Henry's sisters after all.
• I wouldn't say so. Matilda suffered from the moment she realised what she had done. I'm glad Henry forgave her and we didn't have to read a lot of pages about their time apart.

Anything else you'd like to share?

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Matilda looked down at the letter she had just received from Althea, smiling as her sister-in-law recalled her various dances with gentlemen, her on-going courtship with the viscount and, perhaps more than Althea realized herself, her continual complaints about Owen. Matilda sighed and leaned back, looking down and out over the piazza in Rome, church bells ringing out over the square. Of all the places she and Henry had traveled, their townhouse in Rome was undoubtedly Matilda’s favorite. She had already talked about bringing their sisters and Barty out for a visit, but Matilda knew it would likely need to wait a year or two. Matilda had a secret, a joyous one that she couldn’t wait to reveal. She wished she could write to Althea and her mother about it, but she first needed to share her news with her husband. She grinned to think of it, looking down over the piazza, longing to see him return from his daily walk. She opened her journal to write a brief missive, her heart-warming when she flicked through the pages of sketches and dried flowers from their months of traveling. She set pen to paper:

It has now been two weeks and I am certain. I did not know I could be so happy. Now I must tell Henry, and then our joy can be shared. I find myself wondering if my own mother felt such excitement and trepidation.

 Matilda’s head jerked up when she heard a familiar whistling coming across the square. She looked up, rising from the writing desk to smile down through the open window, waving to her husband as he smiled back before jogging up the front steps. Matilda closed her diary and tucked it away, hearing Henry conversing lightly with their butler downstairs and then his heavy footfalls on the stairs as he ran up to find her in the small library.

“My love,” Henry said, entering the room with his usual grin. Months of continent sunshine had made him even more handsome. His blonde hair had lightened, his skin had tanned, and every time Matilda saw him her heart would flutter. “How are you feeling this morning? Any better?”

“Much better darling.” Matilda tried to hide her smile. She had suspected the reason of her morning illness a week ago but had waited a little longer to be sure. Now she was bursting to tell him.

“Excellent, so we can carry on with our adventures!” He threw his cap on the chair. “Was it the Vatican today, or the Forum again?”

“Well, actually, I thought we might stay here,” Matilda said.

“Oh, say no more.” Henry grinned and then swooped down upon her, kissing her swiftly and thoroughly. Matilda leaned into it, trying to keep the smile of her secret from her lips, but Henry pulled back, looking down at her shrewdly.

“You have a secret,” he stated. Matilda inwardly cursed herself for being unable to hide anything from her husband, but when one was married to both the love of her life and her best friend, it was practically impossible.

“I don’t,” Matilda tried to deny, her lips breaking into a grin. She could feel happiness bubbling up inside of her, threatening to burst out of her lips.

“You do!” Henry declared, holding her tightly by the waist staring at her searchingly. “Tell me! Or shall I tickle it out of you?”

“No, no!” Matilda giggled, swerving away from his roaming fingers. “Don’t!”

“Surrender, Tills!” Henry demanded, falling back into their familiar game. “Say the word, Say it!”

“I am with child!” Matilda blurted out, twisting away from him with a gasp. She stared up at him, watching for his reaction. He jerked at her words, his emerald eyes widening. His hands immediately stopped moving. He held her waist lightly, staring with an open mouth. Matilda grinned at him, waiting for him to process, feeling as light as a feather with joy. She imagined that if she stepped out of the window she would fly away on the sunshine.

“You’re…” he said, dazed.

“With child,” Matilda supplied, taking one of his hands and moving it gently to her abdomen, hoping the touch would make the words more real. “We are having a child, Henry.”

“Oh, God!” Henry exclaimed, sweeping her up into his arms and twirling her around so she screamed joyfully.

“Henry, put me down!” she laughed, watching the sunlit room swirl around her.

“Oh, saints be praised! Oh, Tills!”

He set her down, cupping her cheeks and looking deep into her eyes.

“I am so happy,” he whispered, green eyes wet with joyous tears. “Are you happy, Tills?”

“I am.” Matilda nodded, delighted and filled with relief to finally share this with her husband. Now the marvel of it could be shared between them.  “We are going to be parents.”

“We are.” Henry shook his head in wonder, his fingers flexing on her dress. “I shall have a son or daughter. Ralph or Iris.”

“Iris?” Matilda looked up at him quizzically. The name ‘Ralph’ was obviously a homage to her father, but she did not understand the other.

“Yes, Iris. Ever since Medea mentioned it at our wedding breakfast I have thought it a lovely name for a daughter,” Henry smiled softly. “Especially if she has your eyes.”

Matilda was touched he had remembered, and overwhelmed that he had been thinking about it for so long. She kissed him softly, trying to convey her thankfulness and gratitude with every slow second of it.

“We can call them whatever you like, my love.” Matilda tangled her fingers in his hair. “As long as you call us all forever yours.”

“You are mine, my dearest friend, my wife, my life.” Henry kissed her firmly and Matilda felt in his lips all the promises for the future. His hand flexed on her belly. “Both of you are mine, part of my heart. I shall love you forever.”

“We shall love you forever, too.” Matilda sighed, resting her forehead against his as they breathed in one another’s scent: familiar and comforting, the smell of home.

“Are you well?” Henry asked gently, his hand still rubbing her belly in awe. “Do you want for anything?”

“Only your presence.” Matilda smiled. “And perhaps a cup of tea.”

“I can provide both.” Henry kissed her on the forehead and moved to the doorway, “let me go and speak to the housekeeper.”

“Thank you.” Matilda smiled at him, settling back down at the desk.

“And Tills?”

“Yes?”

Matilda turned to look at him. Henry was leaning against the door frame, looking at her with a smile that would light up the whole city.

“I love you,” he said simply. “I love our life together. I can’t wait to meet our child.”

“Me too,” Matilda whispered, her heart full of joy and her eyes starting to tear up. She shook her head, trying to dispel them. “Though I suppose we shall have to share the treehouse now.”

“Indeed!” Henry laughed, “though we shall keep it for some things.”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and disappeared down the stairs, leaving Matilda giggling with excitement and fighting back tears of joy as she opened her journal again. She wanted to write a few, final words to mark this occasion.

Now my happiness is complete. I did not know when I first loved Henry how beautiful our life together could be. I am so glad to be his wife. I am so glad that I married my best friend.

If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…

Finding herself at a terrible crossroad, Rosaline is torn: should she join a competition to ruin the man she loves in order to save her father, or should she let her own Papa rot in prison? Whoever she chooses to betray, one thing is certain: neither could ever forgive her…

A Way to Betray the Duke