A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(54)

“I did.”

She drew a deep breath. “Then when were you going to tell me all of this so that I clearly understood?”

“When we had a moment together.”

“We had many moments together last night,” she pointed out.

A muscle tightened in his jaw. “We were preoccupied,” he answered.

He was right.

And Cassandra didn’t know how she would have reacted to all of this information if she’d learned it earlier. Would she have refused to marry him? This was not how she’d expected her life to be. Having had a stepmother, she had never thought to be one.

“Logan is my heir, Cassandra.” His voice was firm. “I will not set him aside for anyone. Mary and I had a Christian marriage.”

“She was Christian?”

“Yes.”

That information surprised her.

“I will love and value our children,” he continued, “but it is my hope, indeed, my deepest desire, that you will accept and nurture Logan.”

“And how does he feel about all of this? Won’t he wish to return to Canada?”

“Perhaps. Someday maybe and I will help him when he does. However, my concern is right now. Logan has had a great deal of upheaval in his life. While I’m here, he has been in my mother’s charge. Pentreath is not Logan’s first choice, either. Perhaps the two of you will have something in common.”

He extended his hand across the desk. “We can make this marriage work, Cassandra. In spite of everything that has happened today, I ask you to believe in me. I also know I must return to Cornwall. Will you come with me?”

She looked at his hand.

“I doubt Logan wants a stepmother,” she murmured.

“It will not be a problem. Logan is accustomed to listening to many women. It was part of his culture.”

A new thought struck her. “Does he speak English?”

“Absolutely. I told you he was a smart one. His English is as good as ours.”

“And he is how old?”

“Five, I think. There aren’t good records.”

“He must have a day that is known as his birth date?”

“The Lenape don’t think of time as you and I. Age is also not that important.” He lifted his hand, showing her it was still being offered to her.

She knew she had little choice. She had nothing. She didn’t even know who she was any longer.

And what about Society? Was there anything for her in London? Once the gossip started about her father spending her inheritance, Soren would be a laughingstock. He’d married the heiress who wasn’t.

Humbling, so humbling . . .

“I’m afraid, Soren.”

“Of what, Cassandra?”

Of losing myself completely, she wanted to answer, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “I had dreams. I was going to set up an important salon and discuss great ideas.”

“You may do that at Pentreath.”

“A literary salon in Cornwall?”

“Why not? We could use great ideas. This will be a new life for both of us. We are both feeling our way.”

“This is not what I expected my marriage to be,” she confessed.

“Life rarely meets our expectations. But sometimes, when we are lucky, we discover things are better than we could have imagined.”

Her thoughts went to last night, to being in his arms. He was right. She could never have envisioned that pleasure. Not even poetry did it justice.

She placed her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Thank you. It is all out now. No secrets between us. I want you to know that.”

Cassandra nodded. Did she believe him? She wasn’t sure. Today had proven to her how little she knew of human nature. She’d been so na?ve.

However, her acceptance was enough for Soren. He stood. “Come, the hour is late and I’m hungry.”

At his suggestion, her stomach growled, although she could have claimed she was too tense to eat. Soren laughed and led her to the door. They put on their gloves and hats, she picked up a paisley shawl, and they left the room.

It was good to move and to be out in the fresh air, such as it was in London. Cassandra didn’t say much. Soren didn’t notice. He was in good spirits and happy to talk for both of them. He spoke freely about his son now.

They took their dinner at an inn several streets over from their hotel. “We are practicing economies,” Cassandra repeated to herself as if it was a novelty.

It was.

They ate shepherd’s pie and shared a pitcher of good local ale. By the end of the first mug, she relaxed and found her voice.

“I’m angry that MP Holwell—I refuse to call him Father—spent all the money and there is nothing I can do.”

“We can call on my lawyer on the morrow before we leave London. He might know of some recourse.”

“We’ll leave tomorrow?” The idea wasn’t as alarming as it had been. The ale had helped. She tapped her mug with a finger, signaling she was ready for more. With a dubious lift of his brow, he filled her glass halfway from a pitcher on the table.

She smiled her satisfaction and looked around the room. They were the only couple in the dining room. Everyone else was either single or in a larger party. There were also several families. The mothers appeared tired, while the children were full of movement. She tried to judge the age of the children, gauging where Logan would be.