A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(23)

But Cassandra didn’t want to be in their bosoms. “What of my fortune?” It would come to her only upon marriage. Until then, her father managed it for her, sometimes asking her opinion on expenditures such as using a portion for her stepsisters’ dowries. “If I don’t marry, I will never claim it. Isn’t that the terms of my mother and grandfather’s wills? I’ll be penniless and a burden.”

“Nonsense. You needn’t worry about money. We will take care of you. Isn’t that right, Helen?”

Something was not making sense here, but Cassandra too overwhelmed to work the problem through. They spoke as if it was fine for her not to inherit her mother’s money.

“Nothing happened between Lord Dewsberry and myself.”

“That is a relief. We wouldn’t want any York by-blows,” her father said cheerily.

“But why should I be branded by this whole incident? Why, less than fifteen minutes ago, I saw Dame Hester leaving the room of a man who is not her husband. No one will punish her.”

“Dame Hester, eh?” She could see her father squirrel that bit of information away.

However, it was Helen who brought home the truth. “My dear, it pains me to tell you, but your life as you knew it is over, whether the standards are fair or not. There are rules for when a woman can do as she pleases. You broke the rules—”

“I was only searching for a book,” Cassandra insisted.

“Well, that is what comes from reading,” Helen breezily answered. “As your father said, you are fortunate to have the loving arms of your family.”

“Helen is right, my dear. Dewsberry did you no favors. In fact,” he continued, his temper flaring, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that blackguard hasn’t orchestrated the whole sequence of events. Yorks are crafty that way. My father saved old Lord Dewsberry’s hide and we’ve been paying for it ever since.”

Cassandra couldn’t imagine how. To her, it seemed as if the Holwell fortunes had risen while the Yorks had suffered over generations of bad decisions.

Helen sat Cassandra on the edge of the bed. She raised a hand to smooth Cassandra’s hair. The gesture was comforting. When Cassandra was younger and Helen new to her life, she had yearned for her stepmother’s touch. It was rarely given.

“I know this is hard,” Helen said. “Your father and I had great expectations for you. As you did for yourself. What we need to do now is make the best of things. We will see that you have a good life.”

“But I wanted to marry.” Cassandra’s words sounded plaintive even to her own ears. “It isn’t just that I wished the status to improve my literary salons . . . I want children.”

Her father clasped his hands behind his back. “Ah, birdie, that is what I wanted more than anything else for you. But now, you are beyond redemption.”

Cassandra frowned. On one level, her spirit challenged such a verdict. On another, she realized he was right. The story of her being flushed out of Soren’s bedroom would be standard gossip once the other guests returned to London. With Bainhurst involved, there were too many juicy tidbits.

Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry, Papa. I—” She broke off, almost overcome with bitter disappointment and regret for the role she’d played in her own demise. Why had she thought she could wander around the halls of a strange house? “I feel ashamed.”

“Oh, here now.” Her father put his arms around her. “You don’t need a husband. Not when you have a father who loves you as much as I.”

Cassandra nodded. “I just don’t want to return to Cornwall.” She’d never fit in there. Ever.

“You’ll need to be there for a bit,” he regretfully informed her.

“Will you and Helen be with me?”

“Parliament is in session, birdie. You know I will need to be in the city. Can’t be a thorn in the high and mighty if I’m rusticating.”

He relished fighting for the common man, even though he’d wanted his daughter to marry a nobleman. He’d wanted his grandchildren to be titled, and now Cassandra had failed him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, taking the blame on herself.

“Here,” he said, rising, “you need to be off to your bed. Tomorrow, we will pack up for Cornwall. Your life will be good. As Helen said, her girls and I will do all we can to see you are included. Don’t forget, you will have your books. Now come, I’ll walk you to your room.” And so he did. They didn’t say much. He seemed to understand that Cassandra needed to process this unexpected turn of events.

Alone in her room, and once she was in bed, especially on a mattress as uncomfortable as this one, a hundred scenarios of what she could have done, what she should have said played in her mind and kept her awake.

Why had she panicked over the appearance of Lord Bainhurst and run into the first available room? Or why hadn’t she just stayed in her corner in the reading room? She could have been quiet. Yes, Lady Bainhurst had seen her, but she doubted if Her Ladyship would have brought her presence to the duke’s attention. Even if she had, this whole affair would have been between them.

And why did Soren York sleep naked?

Perhaps if he’d been wearing a nightshirt, people would not have drawn the wrong conclusions. She knew it was silly to believe the other guests wouldn’t have put the worst possible slant to the incident. Still, decent people wore clothes to bed. Even now she was suitably clad. What was wrong with him?