A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(51)

Soren surveyed his handiwork. The single pearl rested on her breastbone. She could pull the ribbon over her head.

“Someday, I’ll buy you a chain of gold for it. I promise. I will not let you down, Cass. I will make the most of your sacrifice. The money from the sale of the rest of the strand paid the debt on Pentreath with enough left to carry us through the year. Most of the servants have gone without wages. I’ll be able to pay them and, if we are frugal, we will overcome this setback.” He took her by the arms. “We’ll build Pentreath up until it is the envy of all our neighbors and a proper home for an earl and his countess.”

She smiled, her earlier gloom lifted by his confident determination . . . until understanding dawned about what he was really saying. “We are leaving London?”





Chapter 13




Soren was tired. He was trying to be optimistic and he didn’t understand her question. It should be obvious to her they didn’t have the money to live in London.

Carefully, he answered, “Cornwall is where our future lies, Cass. We will come back to London—well, actually, I will probably return by myself at first. I do have my obligation to the Lords, but even letting the smallest room available, I won’t be able to afford to stay long, not with our financial circumstances. However, it won’t be forever,” he hurried to promise. “I know how to economize. Now that Pentreath is secure, we’ll build a new life for ourselves. And of course, we’ll take trips to the city from time to time.” But it would not be in the near future. He knew that.

She took a step back, her brow worried. “I don’t know.”

What the devil did that mean? “Know? What do you wish to know?”

“I don’t like the country.”

He didn’t like the stubborn note in her voice.

Soren kept his tone calm. He didn’t wish to work her into a lather over nothing. “We are the earl and countess and belong at Pentreath. We are Cornish. It is our home.”

“But I didn’t feel comfortable when I lived in Cornwall.” She took steadying breath. “They thought I was odd.”

“Cass, no one in Cornwall thinks ill of you.”

“I didn’t say they thought ill of me. What I said was they thought me different from them. You knew that even when we were children. I am an outsider there. The happiest day of my life was moving to London. There is always something interesting to do and I have met women who are the same as me.”

“Same as you?”

“Yes, women who think.”

“Women think in Cornwall.” Keep your temper, Soren, he warned himself. He had fought the wolf from the door. Now, he needed to make decisions that were in their best interest—and she argued?

“Yes, the women think,” she agreed. “But not about anything interesting.”

“ ‘Interesting,’ ” he repeated. “What does that mean? Is it ‘interesting’ to realize we can’t afford to live in London?

Her chin lifted. “I just don’t believe you are taking my concerns seriously. Or that you are not listening to me.”

Now, here was something he had heard before. Hadn’t that been Mary’s complaint against him—that he hadn’t understood? He’d believed Mary’s accusation had been because he was white and she a native . . . but that wasn’t the case here. What if Mary had been trying to tell him that she had needed something more of him?

What if he was being too dismissive?

That was an uncomfortable thought.

However, the clear fact was, they didn’t have the money to live in a city like London and rebuild Pentreath. “Cassandra, life is about making good choices. If I could let you live in London, I would. But we don’t have the money. Perhaps, you could be the one to make country life interesting. As my lady, you’ll have the power to create the community you wish around Pentreath and you might find it very satisfying. I admit, I actually prefer the country. It is more relaxed so my thinking seems clearer.”

“To the point of boredom,” she countered. “There are no museums or plays. I don’t like sport. I’m a timid rider. The only activities a gentlewoman can perform are church and good works. But the true problem remains, they don’t like me there. You know how set in their ways they are. They don’t admire clever women and I’m not pretty enough for them to accept me on looks.”

Here was a charge he could sink his teeth into. “I don’t know who told you that you are not attractive, but they are wrong. You are lovely, Cass, and beautiful to me. I am proud of your bright mind. I pray we have children with your intelligence.”

“Says the man who owns the castle I just saved.”

It wasn’t just the denial of his words that set him back, it was the vehemence in her response.

He held up a warning hand. “Whoa. I’m trying to understand your feelings.”

“You can’t. Everyone likes you.”

“They like you, too.”

“That is a lie and we both know it.”



Cassandra hated arguing with him. He thought she was being ridiculous. He believed he was making the best decision.

But it wasn’t one she wanted. Every fiber of her being rebelled against it. She had to make him understand. Not only was he her husband, he was now the only family she had.