A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(26)

Bainhurst was a surly soul on a good day. This morning, he appeared positively grim. Mayhap someone had mentioned that Soren was more fighter than gentleman. That would work in Soren’s favor.

“What is she doing here?” Bainhurst said by way of greeting, nodding in Cass’s direction.

“Observing,” Soren said. “Don’t worry. The duke will stop her.”

“I do not believe Camberly is a match against the energy of her nature,” Bainhurst rightly suggested.

Soren sliced the air a few times with his sword. “Then we’d best begin.”

A germ of an idea had begun to form in his mind, and he liked it. He had a trick of his own to play, one that would serve both Bainhurst and himself.



Cassandra knew Soren had seen her approaching. He’d looked right at her. He also knew what she was about. However, instead of waiting, he’d stepped out into the dueling field.

One of the things that had always annoyed her was how men, including her father, dismissed her very right concerns for the flimsiest of reasons. Her father’s favorite response was that she didn’t understand a man’s world and should keep her opinions and her questions to herself.

Well, she had every right to interfere now; when someone was fighting a duel using her name, then it was her concern.

The Duke of Camberly approached her. She held up a hand. “Do not come an inch closer, Your Grace. I will run over you.”

He did not obey. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You shouldn’t test me, Your Grace,” she answered without missing a step.

He spread his arms as if to block her way. “I implore you. This is no place for a lady.”

Cassandra came to a halt in front of him with a glare that could have scorched him to the ground.

Because of his amoral, dishonorable behavior, two men were about to face off, and one could lose his life. She would never forgive herself if something happened to Soren. It was suddenly that plain and clear to her. “Move out of my way.”

Camberly blinked as if astounded by her directness, and then he moved, chastened. “Good luck, Miss Holwell.”

“I’m not the one who will need luck, Your Grace.” She honed her sights on Soren.

He had his back to her. He held his sword up and ready, waiting for his opponent. He was aware of her. She knew that all the way to her bones. Bainhurst hadn’t even lifted his sword. He watched her with a wary eye.

“I wish to speak to you, Lord Dewsberry.” Her voice rang clear in the dawn’s air.

He didn’t turn or lower his sword. “I’m busy defending your honor, Miss Holwell.”

She came to a halt. “You may stop doing anything on my behalf this instant.”

He sounded almost bored as, without bothering to turn, he answered, “I’m sorry, Miss Holwell. Your insistent innocence about how the world works has made this duel a necessity.”

Her temper snapped. “What swill.”

“Should I leave the two of your alone?” Lord Bainhurst suggested.

“No,” Soren said, even as Cassandra replied, “Yes.”

His Lordship stood as if undecided which one he should obey, and Cassandra considered that a win for herself.

Apparently, so did Soren. He lowered his sword and faced her. “Are you going to marry me?”

That suggestion surprised her. She could not hide her amazement. Her mind was going in one direction and his apparently in another.

“It is the only other option,” he informed her. “I either lop off both of Bainhurst’s ears, which I can do rather easily—”

“Here now,” Lord Bainhurst protested. “It will not be easy—”

With a lightning quickness, Soren raised his sword, flicked his wrist, and nicked His Lordship’s sleeve.

“Damn,” Lord Bainhurst swore with a twinge of admiration, and took a cautious step back.

“I didn’t scratch him,” Soren said to Cassandra. “Although I could have. I am very good at this.”

His offhand manner annoyed her. She crossed her arms. “Ah, so this isn’t your first duel?” She parodied his matter-of-fact tone so that he understood she found the situation reprehensible.

“In truth, it is. However, Bainhurst would not be the first man I’ve killed.”

That uncrossed her arms. How did one respond to such a statement? For the first time in her memory, Cassandra found herself speechless, while he watched with guileless eyes and an air of profound patience.

“You’ve killed men before?” she repeated, wanting him to deny it.

“Several. I was in the military, Miss Holwell. After that, well, a man set on making his fortune in the wilds of Upper Canada should know how to use a weapon. I have excellent tomahawk skills.”

Cassandra didn’t know what a tomahawk was, but it sounded dangerous. “You seem almost proud of that fact.”

“I am. We each have our talents. You read; I fight. Both serve a purpose.”

“But I don’t want you to fight for me.”

“Then stop making it so damn difficult.”

And she realized they weren’t talking about the duel.

As did Lord Bainhurst. “I will wait over there,” he said, indicating his group of friends, “while the two of you hash this out.”