A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(34)

For a moment, he imagined Mary and Cass facing each other. It would be hard to place odds on which woman had the most resolve.

And that was his curse, wasn’t it? He didn’t enjoy women who had little between their ears and brought nothing to the table. He liked them spirited and vibrant. Cass was a strong woman. Their children would be healthy. Her fortune would set their future on a good path.

Her fortune.

How many times today had someone made mention of it? Many had cheered his good luck at marrying an heiress. Others had made comments cloaked in jealousy. A few had wondered if he was interested in a business venture they were exploring or could he advance them a small loan? His answer to both was no.

Soren was going to secure Pentreath Castle for his son and his children by Cassandra. He was determined to put the lands around it to good use and to be an upstanding member of the House of Lords. He was not going to waste Cassandra’s wealth. And he was going to take the admiral’s advice and meet with Holwell with all haste.

The time to tell Cass of his son and first marriage would present itself. He just needed to wait for the right moment, and before the wedding would not be it.

That night, he wrote two letters. One was to his mother informing her of his marriage. The other was to Deborah Fowey, his father’s mistress, who, after his death, had married the local wainwright. He was more honest in the second letter than the first.

Soren was happy to finally find his bed, but he did not sleep well. Instead, he had dreams of taunting a lonely girl who had trusted his friendship. Only, in the dream, she turned the tables on him. She’d drawn a picture of him as a “liar and sneak.”

The accusation rolled around in his head even when he woke to greet his wedding day.



Cassandra had slept well, and her natural optimism was revitalized for it.

She was picking up the reins of her life, she realized. Her father might not be happy, but she would not be trundled off to some corner of the world to be ignored. Instead, she would be experiencing life to its fullest.

With a husband came a place in Society. She vowed not to be passive and meek the way Helen was to her father. She planned on being a partner in marriage. She would help Soren manage his social affairs and become a famed hostess. Just as Society coveted invitations to the Dowager Duchess of Camberly’s house party, everyone would desire the opportunity to attend one of her literary salons. She would host only the most important people and join them in discussions of great ideas. They would listen to her opinion, something her father never did.

She and Soren would have beautiful, golden-haired children. Cassandra could picture them. They would have lovely manners, and she would see the girls were educated as well as the boys. Most important of all, her son would someday be the Earl of Dewsberry.

Yes, she was well aware that had been her father’s dream. Noble descendants. She understood now. There was an honor in setting up future generations. She also believed with all her heart that her father would reconcile with her. It would be a good moment. He would see what a good countess she was and be contrite for the rift between them. In turn, she would be gracious and understanding.

That was how a countess behaved.

Many of the country party’s houseguests would be leaving later that day, but first they planned to celebrate the wedding. Cassandra was thankful Willa was still here. She burst into Cassandra’s room ready to make the day special.

“You will be the most beautiful bride anywhere,” Willa declared. “What are you wearing?”

Cassandra showed her the white gauze dress with gold and green ribbon rosettes that she’d originally intended for one of the dowager’s more formal dinners.

“It is perfect. However, it does need a pressing. Betty,” she said to her maid, who had carried a vase of freshly cut roses into the room, “please take care of the dress.”

“Yes, Miss Willa.” The maid placed the roses on the bedside table and left the room to do her mistress’s bidding.

“I ordered a bath sent up,” Willa informed Cassandra. “Your stepmother isn’t here and I believe I should fill her role.”

“What are the roses for?” Cassandra asked.

“Every bride needs flowers in her hair. The dowager’s garden is glorious with them. We will hold them in place with your mother’s diamond pins. I assume you will wear the pearls?”

Tears welled in Cassandra’s eyes. She nodded.

Willa was immediately concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m wonderful. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve never seen you cry before.”

Cassandra dabbed the heel of her hand against another tear. “I’m not crying because I’m sad but because of what you are doing. You are making me feel very special.”

“It is nothing but friendship,” Willa assured her. She gave Cassandra a quick hug. “So, the pearls?”

“Yes, of course. They were my mother’s favorites. I have nothing to represent my father.”

“I pray the man stews in his own bile. I can’t believe he behaved the way he did. There is nothing wrong with Dewsberry. I watched you last night over dinner, and I think the two of you make a handsome couple. I also believe he rather likes you.”

“He likes my money.” Cassandra moved to the washstand to collect a bar of fine milled soap. It was scented with lavender.