A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(21)

The duke mumbled, “I am happy to be of service.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Soren said. He looked to Bainhurst. “Let us not let this matter linger. We meet tomorrow at dawn. I’m certain the duke can provide the weapons.”

“Ah, yes, I can,” Camberly dutifully answered.

“Then we are all done. I’ll see you in the morning, Bainhurst.”

“But it is so soon,” he protested. “Surely we should consider the matter a day or two?”

“I’ve already considered. I know what I want to do.” Soren returned to his room, slamming the door on a sobered Lord Bainhurst.





Chapter 6




Once out of sight of the gossips, Cassandra slowed her step as she walked to her parents’ room. Her father had never publicly repudiated her before. Then again, she’d never given him cause. She’d always done as he expected. She believed she could soothe his anger, but she’d learned over the years it was always best to tread carefully when his pride was hurt.

As she turned the corner onto their hall, a door opened and a woman in a nightdress backed out of the room still kissing her lover. Cassandra stopped in her tracks. There was nowhere to hide, and she wasn’t going to make the mistake of jumping into a convenient room again.

Male arms tried to draw the woman back but she broke the kiss with a giggle. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and the promise must have been enough.

The door shut and the woman turned, alarmed at the sight of Cassandra.

The woman was Dame Hester, Admiral Sir Denby Clark’s wife and a woman as old as Cassandra’s stepmother. She was also one of the moral prioresses of Society. Many a young woman had been coldly dismissed from the ranks of being marriageable because of this woman’s yea or nay.

Having met the admiral on several occasions, Cassandra knew those strong arms did not belong to him. He was so slight of stature, he looked comical in his uniform jacket and wig.

Dame Hester’s eye took on a frozen stare as she moved forward. She walked right past Cassandra as if she wasn’t there. Nor was Cassandra going to do anything to call attention to herself.

She waited until she could no longer hear a footstep from the older woman. Only then did she look back. Dame Hester was gone, vanished around a corner in this labyrinth of a house.

Cassandra released the breath she was holding. Now she realized why everyone was so quick to jump to conclusions about her and Soren. Didn’t anyone stay in their rooms?

Or with their mates?

This house party appeared to be nothing less than an opportunity to hop from spouse to lover, and it was confusing to someone like herself who had always believed in honoring vows and moral codes. The image of Lady Bainhurst and the duke rolling on the floor would be burned into her mind for eternity. Camberly had known Lady Bainhurst was married. He obviously didn’t care.

The infatuation Cassandra felt for him died a quick death. Her poet hero was fatally flawed. He didn’t value the sanctity of marriage, and she was disappointed. Yes, most of the poets of her acquaintance were rascals. They wouldn’t pledge fidelity to anything. However, Camberly was a duke. He had been a scholar. Shouldn’t he be held to a higher standard?

Meanwhile, Soren York, the man she’d dismissed as shallow, had performed with the gallantry of a true gentleman.

Cassandra was not na?ve. Her fortune would have greatly compensated Dewsberry if she had accepted his marriage offer. However, few would have stepped up as he did on her behalf.

She reached her parents’ door. She drew a deep breath, released it, and knocked lightly in case they were not awake.

Immediately, her father’s voice said, “There she is. I told you she would come to us.” The door opened.

Her father stood in his nightshirt and stockinged feet as if he’d quickly risen from the bed. The hairs on his head went this way and that as if he’d been pulling on them.

She felt as if she was six again. He was her family, her blood. They were the only two left who remembered her mother . . . although she was rarely mentioned.

He motioned her inside and shut the door. “Did you refuse his offer?” His voice was cold.

“I told him I couldn’t make a decision.”

“But you will reject him,” Helen said, sounding surprisingly anxious. She sat in the bed, the covers pulled to her waist.

Cassandra looked from her stepmother to her father. In spite of Soren’s poverty, Dewsberry was a respected title. Wasn’t marrying a nobleman what they wanted her to do?

She tried to choose her words wisely. “If I don’t accept this offer . . . then what future would I have? Everyone believes the worst of me.”

“As they should.” Her father sat in a bedside chair. “What the deuce were you doing in his room?”

“It isn’t how it looked. I couldn’t sleep without a book to read. There was a small library on that floor. I just wanted a book. You know how I am.”

“And then?” His expression was unrelenting.

“Well, I couldn’t find one. The shelves were bare except for one book in the whole room. It was on a table at the far end. I went to see what it was and then this couple came in and started—” Heat rushed to her cheeks, making her feel slightly faint. “They were very indiscreet.”

“I told you she acted as if she was afraid,” Helen said.