A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(20)

However, Soren’s answer to his offer came from her father. In ringing tones, Holwell announced, “No child of mine will marry a York.”

“I’ll not accept an answer from anyone but Cass,” Soren challenged.

“Cassandra. Her name is Cassandra,” Holwell answered. “Although the likes of you do not have permission to use it.”

Her father’s rudeness only made Soren more determined to free her from him. The feud between their two families was nonsense. Dewsberry was an old and respected title—or it had been until his grandfather and father had disgraced it. But Soren would see it shine again and, in that moment, he knew with complete conviction he wanted Cass by his side. That desire was not based upon her fortune.

No, his certainty that she alone could help him meet the challenges of his life, and there were many, came from a place deep within him. He knew he was making the right decision.

Besides, even if he was wrong, she did have a fortune.

Holwell was in politics. He valued public opinion. So, Soren played to the public. He went down on one knee in front of her, a half-dressed swain intent on baring his soul.

Cass stared at him as if he had lost his wits. Perhaps he had.

“Miss Holwell, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Bah!” Her father’s sharp exclamation robbed the moment of any sincerity. “Refuse him, daughter,” he ordered. “Put him in his place.”

The hallway grew quiet. People held their breaths as they leaned in for every second of the drama. Even Bainhurst.

Cass looked to her father, then back to Soren kneeling before her. Her brows gathered, but no words left her lips.

Her father was at her ear. “Accept his offer and you will be no daughter of mine.” He then turned and shouldered his way through the crowd. His wife followed as if she was his shadow.

Cass blinked as if in hurt surprise. Soren took her hand, bringing her attention back to him. She looked down at him.

“We’ll be good together,” Soren promised.

For a moment, he believed she was going to say yes to him. Her palm was warm, her fingers long.

And then she pulled her hand free. “I can’t,” she whispered. “It is too much to decide right now.”

On those words, she chased after her parent.

She was gone.

What the devil?

Soren couldn’t believe he had been rejected. Did she not realize her life as she’d known it was over? Rightly or wrongly, circumstances had conspired to label her damaged goods.

Then again, wasn’t she the one earlier who had warned him a Holwell and a York could never be together?

Except she didn’t believe it. He knew for a fact she was not reacting to the feud. Something else spurred her. Something he didn’t understand.

Nor was he the only one surprised by her reaction. The silence in the hall told him that everyone was shocked she’d refused him. It was a foolish move.

Soren rose.

His movement stirred the others. They began creeping toward their rooms as if embarrassed for him. Here and there was a murmured “Good night, Dewsberry,” but most were very quiet. He had no doubt they would find their voices on the morrow.

However, he was not through with this evening’s business.

“Lord Bainhurst,” Soren said.

The jealous lord had been conferring with the two men who had been with him when he had attacked Soren’s bedroom door. He looked up.

“There is a challenge between us, is there not?” Soren said.

Everyone who had been quietly dispersing now turned back to Soren.

Bainhurst shot a quizzical glance to his companions. They shrugged their answers. He took a step toward Soren and gave a congenial laugh, as if the two of them were friends. “I did issue one, but that was when I believed you were with my wife. I was overwrought, Dewsberry. I ask you to beg pardon.”

“I will not.”

“But you should,” Bainhurst countered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “The grievance I had, well, apparently I jumped to a conclusion.”

“So you did.”

“Which means that I no longer require satisfaction. And, I offer my most abject apologies for ruining your sleep, my lord.”

“Your apology is not accepted.”

Bainhurst was not laughing now. “But there is no reason to duel.”

“Actually, I find there is a very good reason to duel. You have interfered with my life.”

“I apologize—”

“You have disturbed Miss Holwell’s life—”

“I apologize to her as well,” Bainhurst quickly assured him.

“Your apology is not accepted,” Soren repeated. “I find myself with a strong desire to—how did you phrase it? ‘Run you though with a sword.’ Yes, that is what it was.”

The deference dropped from Bainhurst’s voice. “There is no need, Dewsberry.”

“Oh, I have need, Bainhurst. A strong one.” Soren noticed Camberly standing on the edges of the onlookers. He appeared as if he had just stumbled on the scene and wasn’t completely certain of what was going on, or of the unwitting role Soren suspected he’d played. Something had driven Cass to jump into his room and it had been more than Bainhurst. Had she caught Camberly and Letty doing something they shouldn’t? Or had it all been a coincidence? Stranger things had happened. “You will serve as my second, Your Grace.” It was not a question.