A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(3)

Camberly’s mouth opened as if he would deny any connection, and then he closed it. His somber eyes strayed in the direction of his rumored paramour. “I can’t. I love her.”

“You are poaching on another man’s territory. It will not go well if you are discovered.”

“We are careful.”

“Ah, yes, careful,” Soren echoed. “If I had a pound for every man I’ve heard make that claim, I’d not need to marry money.”

The response was a cold silence.

Soren leaned closer to his friend. “Welcoming smiles can turn to vicious tongues in a snap of the fingers. Bainhurst is notably pugnacious. He would proudly put his sword through you, and everyone would believe him justified.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“You are also not a fighter. You are a scholar. You know words, not weapons.”

“Granted, I haven’t been a soldier like yourself, but I’m not a coward—”

“I’m not saying you are.”

“We are careful,” the duke reiterated.

“You play with fire, you will be burnt. It is the oldest adage known to man. And the one continually ignored.”

Camberly put his hands behind his back. He did appear a duke, even as he professed, “I’ve never met anyone like her. She has so much passion inside her waiting to be released.”

“I’m certain you are eager to help,” Soren murmured.

His friend ignored the comment. “I can’t stay away from her. It is impossible. What we have between us is stronger than mere human will.” He turned away from Soren. “It can’t be wrong. It isn’t.”

Soren shrugged, the movement straining the seams of his jacket. It was a bit too tight. He’d purchased his evening clothes from the widow of the man for whom they had been tailored. Another forced economy. He hadn’t the money to go to a tailor. Once he won Cass, his first act would be to burn these clothes.

“I’ve done my duty,” Soren conceded. “Spoken my piece. I’ll say no more.” Instead, life would have to teach Matt its lessons.

At that moment, Minerva, the dowager, came up behind them from the dining room, where she’d been checking last-minute details. The purple plumes in her hair bounced as she said, “My dear grandchild, what are you doing hiding here when you should be out amongst the guests? Circulate, Camberly. Circulate.”

“Yes, Grandmother, of course,” he said. “Especially since Dewsberry and I are growing disagreeable with each other.” He marched into the room, not even bothering to go to the reception room’s main doorway where the butler had been waiting to announce him. He set a direct course for Letty Bainhurst.

“You spoke to him just now?” Minerva asked, referring to her concerns about the duke’s love interest.

“As you requested of me.”

“Did he listen?”

Soren looked down at her. “Do you see where he is?”

She stared bleakly at her late husband’s heir leaning over the immoral Lady Bainhurst. “Yes. He is ogling her breasts.” She sighed her exasperation. “Do you men not realize how obvious you are?”

“Apparently not. Then again, an idiot couldn’t miss those breasts. They appear to be served up on a platter.”

“And supposedly her husband doesn’t notice.”

“He enjoys his jealousy. How else would he have a reason to call men out?”

The color drained from her face. “The title cannot afford another death. You have been a good friend to Matthew, my lord. Please don’t abandon him.”

“If I can be of service, I will, Your Grace. However, I cannot save him from himself.”

“He’d be wiser to pay attention to Miss Reverly and her thousands of pounds in funds, as would you. Aligning yourself with Holwell is folly.” She shivered her distaste for MP Holwell.

“Miss Holwell will someday inherit land that abuts mine. Furthermore, she receives the Bingham fortune when she marries. The pearls around her neck alone would wipe away my debts and secure Pentreath.”

“Yes, yes.” She gave his arm a motherly pat. “And MP Holwell is an absolute troll of a man. Let me remind you, when you marry, you take on not only a wife, but her family as well.”

Soren’s gaze went once again to Cass’s shining halo of hair. Was he being overly stubborn? Cass had rebuffed his every attempt to court her.

And yet, he reminded himself, they had been friends at one time—until she’d abruptly refused to speak to him.

The sudden recollection startled him.

He’d forgotten that incident, he realized. Memory was a funny thing. However, now he could recall her abrupt change toward him. They had been at a house party and she’d gone cold. Before he could learn what had created the rift between them, his father had informed him he would not be returning to school and had shipped him off to an uncle in Upper Canada.

Could whatever had set her against him years ago be behind her distance now?

He refused to believe so. He could not remember anything he’d done to upset her. Besides, Cass was a reasonable woman. She wouldn’t carry a grudge for years . . . would she?

Either way, he would win her. Because otherwise, he’d lose Pentreath, and he was not going to give up his birthright easily. Not with his son’s future in play.