A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(50)

“The Duchess of Bedford is a step up, no?”

“Yes, my lady. Well, you would have been a step up and I would have been honored to serve you. However, I need to see to myself.”

“I’m not criticizing you at all, Abby. I believe you are quite wise. You can find your way home?”

“Yes, my lady, I walk this city daily. Be careful.” Abby bobbed another curtsey and took her leave, and Cassandra found herself on the street alone.

It was a strange feeling.

She made her way to the reception. The clerk remembered her and bowed and scraped as he handed the key to her. Considering his reaction to the Dewsberry title when they first arrived, she wondered how he would act if he knew she was broke. She would soon find out. Bad news had a nasty way of making itself known.

Going up the stairs, Cassandra’s mind puzzled over this twist to her life. It would have been nice to have had more dresses and definitely the smallclothes. However, her life of social obligations was about to end. What did people do who didn’t have money?

She unlocked the door to the room and let herself inside. She crossed to her valise and removed the clothing and shoes. She treated them with respect. This was all she owned. Three day dresses, two gowns, the accoutrements she had needed to wear with each, and her nightclothes. Her sensible pair of walking shoes was currently rubbing a blister on her right heel because she’d never walked in them as much as she had today. She also possessed two pairs of the softest kid slippers ever made.

She took off the shoes and slipped her feet into a pair of the slippers. Immediately her feet felt better.

Once the valise was empty, she lifted the false bottom and picked up the garnet necklace and bracelet and her diamond hairpins. Why had she not thought to take the sapphires to Mayfield with her?

She held the jewels in her hands. These, too, she would give to Soren. She assumed they would be sold and she didn’t mind. They didn’t hold the sentimental value of the pearls.

She put the jewels back in the velvet-lined compartment and replaced the false bottom. She spent a few moments hanging her clothes. She must take good care of them now. She was also probably going to be her own maid. She knew little of pressing dresses and laundry. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to learn about those things.

After she was done, she sat and wondered what else she could do. Evening was falling. She was tired and hungry. She had no idea how to find a meal for herself and no money to pay for one.

It would be nice to have a book. She had taught herself to read when she was the precocious age of four. She’d always sensed that books were important. Her first book had been her nurse’s Bible. Nurse had been one for telling stories, and Cassandra’s curiosity had wanted to know where the stories had come from. She now tried to keep fears at bay by thinking of those stories of faith and resiliency.

At some point, she dozed in the chair. A knock on the door woke her with a start. The room was dark.

“Cass?” Soren’s voice said from the other side. “Let me in.”

She’d never known such relief as having him return. She moved hesitantly toward the door, found the handle, turned the key, and opened it.

Light from the hallway sconces made her blink as she stepped into Soren’s reassuring arms.

“Come down here and light the candles,” he called to a porter sitting at the top of the stairs.

“Yes, my lord,” the man said, and hurried into the room to do Soren’s bidding. “I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

Once the porter had left, she explained to Soren. “His chair was empty when I came to the room. I didn’t know to ask him to light the room and then I fell asleep.”

He smiled, the expression tight. She could not tell if he was happy or not. “What did Mr. Huggett say?”

“My debt is paid. I own Pentreath.”

“That is good?” She was asking because he didn’t seem pleased. Instead, he paced the room as if dissatisfied.

He stopped, reminding her of nothing less than a caged lion sensing the air. “Yes. Good.”

Her stomach knotted. She did not like his mood. It made her uncomfortable. Another first. She’d rarely worried about others’ moods before, save her father’s. Such is the life of the humbled.

“I will make this up to you, Cass.”

He was standing no more than five feet from her, and yet she sensed there was a chasm between them.

“It is of no import,” she lied.

“That is not true. Those pearls were valuable. Huggett knew a jeweler who recognized them. They are rather infamous.”

She nodded. “I said they were known.”

“I—” he started and then stopped. He pushed himself to go on. “I’m embarrassed.”

She crossed the chasm, sliding her arms around his waist. This was good. This is what she’d been wanting. He held her tight. Holwell had been wrong about him, about them.

He drew away so that he could reach into his pocket. “The jeweler allowed me to save one of the pearls for you once I explained how important they were to you.” He pulled out a single perfect pearl strung on a piece of black ribbon.

She touched the pearl. It was warm from his body heat. “Thank you.” It looked lonely.

“Let me put it on you,” he said. She turned, and he tied a knot where she wanted it.