A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(30)

“He is a York. They despise us. And now he’s going to marry you, spend your money the way his father and grandfather went through theirs, and leave you to rot like a ship that has been beached after a storm.”

“I don’t believe that,” Cassandra said, and she didn’t. “I know he needs my inheritance—”

“And it is all right with you that he is only marrying you for your money?” Her father stepped closer. “Because I’ll tell you, birdie, he will treat you worse than one of his servants. He will bury you in the country so that he can gamble and fritter away your money until you have nothing, including the respect of your family.”

“Papa—”

“You will be dead to us.”

He was so forceful, so certain. Cassandra placed a hand against her abdomen, overwhelmed with the decision she had made. What if her father was right? What if she found herself caught in an unhappy marriage? One where she was not valued as a true helpmate?

And then she remembered years ago when a bold lad had looked at her at the parish picnic where she’d hidden herself in the sanctuary with a book and had asked if she wanted to be his friend. We can’t tell them, he’d said, meaning their parents. They won’t like it, and yet I can see nothing wrong with you.

She’d valued that friendship. Cherished it. Because she hadn’t been like the other children. She’d lost her mother. Her father was not well liked. She’d picked that up even as a child.

Soren had been her first friend and, until now, he’d never asked for anything. Meanwhile, it seemed her family demanded more than she could give. Her father expected her to hold his grudges, she realized. And she’d never been close to her stepmother or stepsisters. They had been jealous of her money. Well, until they needed it for their dowries. Then they had included her, but they didn’t like her.

Could she truly live out her days at their beck and call with no life of her own?

“Papa, I don’t want to anger you.”

“Then do as I say.”

“I can’t.” The statement had come from a place inside her she hadn’t known existed. She’d always been the dutiful daughter. “I’m ready to start my life,” she tried to explain. “There is so much I have yet to experience.”

“I’ve given you everything you have wanted.”

“You have been more than generous, Papa. However, I want to understand what it means to be a wife.” And a lover, she could have added. She wished to know this mystery between men and women. “I want to be a mother. I want to raise a child.”

Ah, yes, here was the greatest question of her life. What had she missed by not having a mother’s love as a guiding force in her life? Helen did not count. She and Helen had always been wary of each other.

“Then I will find you a husband,” her father said. “We’ll find a suitable man for you. But don’t trust Dewsberry. You know nothing of him. He’s like his father, secretive and conniving.”

Her father was right. She did not know Soren well. Still, there was something she couldn’t explain between them, and it was deeper than the pleasure of his kiss. It made her bristle at her father’s accusations. It helped her find her voice. “I’ve made my decision, Papa.”

“Very well then.” He turned on his heel and walked out the door.

His abruptness startled her. Cassandra had always tried to please him. They were all the blood family either of them had. She believed he had her best interests at heart—and yet, he was wrong about Soren.

She moved to the door. Helen had already climbed into the coach. Her father joined her. The Holwell coach was as fine as any prince could boast. The cab was lacquered red and the wheels had yellow spokes. Her father had designed an emblem to go on the door. It was not a crest, but anyone seeing it would know this was a symbol of MP Holwell. He prided himself on the picture of a tree with deep roots and a miner’s pick. The coach was pulled by a set of matched grays that would have any lord jealous.

With a knock on the roof, he ordered Terrance the driver to go. The coach pulled away. Her father sat stiff and unrelenting, his face in profile in the window. He did not even glance at her, and for a second, it was as if someone pulled her in half. She wanted to please him and please herself . . . and it could not be done.

Cassandra crossed her arms tightly against her waist and watched him go. Did he think she would chase after him?

After all, she was her father’s daughter. She had pride as well.

Soren’s voice said behind her, “He will come round.”

Without turning, her gaze still on the coach as it grew smaller in the distance down the drive, she said, “No, he won’t. He will expect me to go to him.”

“Will you?”

She faced him. He needed to shave. After all they had been through this morning, she just now noticed that. And she herself was not all together. Her braid was a shambles. Why, she was not wearing stockings—and she felt drained.

“Are you saying you won’t have me now?” She spoke half in jest. Or was she testing him?

“Camberly said we can say our vows in the family chapel. I will procure the special license.”

“When will we marry?”

“If I send for the license immediately. I’m certain I can have it by tomorrow morning.”