A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(68)

They made her a bit like Arabella, and she didn’t like that image at all.

Miss Edgeworth’s book was making her do some thinking, not only about children in general, but also about her own childhood. She’d not been a wolf cub, but there had been many a servant who would not have had something flattering to say if she’d been missing. It went without saying her stepmother and stepsisters had resented—

Cassandra sensed rather than saw a movement in her husband’s room.

But she had not heard the door open. And if Soren had returned, he would have said something.

She waited. All was quiet. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Perhaps a servant had run an errand in her husband’s room and she’d not been paying attention?

Cassandra walked over to the bed and picked up Miss Edgeworth’s book.

Stepping through the door between the two bedrooms, she again sensed she was not alone. That she was being watched. Carefully, she scanned the room, and it was then she noticed the wardrobe door was cracked open. It had not been that way when she’d looked in the room not more than thirty minutes earlier.

She walked over to it and, placing her book under her arm, opened the door.

Soren’s wardrobe held a few of his things. He did not own much. This did not surprise her. The space smelled of bay leaf and the orange spice of his shaving soap. She ran her hand over a jacket of bottle green superfine. She hoped he returned soon, and with Logan—and then, from the corner of her eye, she once again spied movement.

A shadow had shifted in a place where there should have been only stillness.

Was it her imagination or did someone else breathe in this room? Was there another heart beating?

The dogs started barking outside. Cassandra walked to the window. From this vantage point, she overlooked a small garden and a corner of the stables. There was a pond, and apparently two of the dogs had gotten into a fight over who knew what. A stable lad shouted at them. The post driver was there as well. She was pleased he was being taken care of—

Again, her inner sense noticed a movement.

This time, Cassandra did not doubt herself. The movement had come from the massive four-poster.

She crept closer. Her instincts were not wrong. Someone was under the bed. It could be a dog, but then its behavior was uncharacteristic.

When she was a few feet away, she dropped to her knees and peered under the bed frame just in time to catch sight of a small bare foot disappearing behind the back of the headboard.

Could Logan be here? In this room, waiting for his father?

Cassandra rose up on her knees, ready to call for help, when a black-haired child dressed only in breeches took two bounding steps across the mattress toward her. With a loud war cry, he leaped in the air to attack her.





Chapter 18




Cassandra surprised herself with how quickly she could roll out of the way.

Her foe landed on his feet with the grace of a cat. He raised scrawny arms, his hands in fists. She came up on her knees, holding the book for protection. He was still shorter than she, but he was wildly ferocious. He shouted gibberish for a second and then switched to English. “Where is my father? Where is he?”

This was Logan. The wolf cub. Her husband’s child.

Her stepson.

His face was contorted in rage. He behaved as if he expected to fight for his very life, and he blamed her.

He moved as if to strike and, with all favorable consideration of Miss Edgeworth’s admonishments on the sensitive nature of the children aside, Cassandra put the book to good use. She thumped him smartly on the head with it.

She’d not used much force but it made a nice whacking sound.

Logan blinked, his scowl deepened. He looked like a miniature Soren except with dark eyes and black hair. Still, he had his father’s jaw, and she recognized the shape of the lips. Soren could never have denied his son.

He opened his mouth, prepared to give a shout, and she said, “Stop this nonsense or I will give you another thump.” In truth, her heart was beating madly. He had given her quite a start.

Before another move could be made, Soren’s door opened. Arabella was there. “Ah, you found him.” There was no surprise in her voice.

Logan immediately backed away, moving toward Cassandra.

His change from brave attack to uncertainty gave her pause.

She looked up at his grandmother. Arabella’s face was a mask of disdain—whether for Cassandra or Logan or both of them, she did not know.

Cassandra rose to her feet, wanting to regain her dignity. Footsteps ran down the hall toward them. Elliot appeared in the doorway. He stopped when he saw Arabella and then glanced in the room at Cassandra. It took him a moment to notice Logan. Her terrible attacker had moved even closer to Cassandra, as if hiding himself in her skirts. The wolf cub had become a distrustful child.

After seeing the look on Arabella’s face, Cassandra didn’t know if she didn’t agree with him.

“My lady, you found him,” Elliot spoke with genuine relief.

“Rather, he found me. Send word to my lord that his son is safe.”

“I will, my lady. We have a signal of two shots with a musket.” He left. There were other voices in the hall. The servants were sharing the information among themselves.

Arabella took a step back so that all would notice her presence. The questioning voices went silent.

“Well,” she said, turning back to Cassandra, “that was a nice entertainment. I shall see you at dinner. Do you wish me to close the door?”