A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(74)

He’d wanted something different for his son. Instinctively, he’d known he would need a wife who could help him reclaim all that had once been good at Pentreath—and he’d found her.

Yes, he’d gone after Cassandra because it would take her money to save Pentreath. However, he realized he’d also been searching for her quiet dignity and her grace. She would help guide Logan through Society because she had navigated those same treacherous waters herself and survived.

His wife appeared radiant as she sat at the table with Logan between them.

Their declarations of love, spoken from their hearts, seemed to have freed her. Or perhaps it was the unburdening of her secret. Hiding her jewels did not seem a bad action to Soren. He considered it rather wise.

That she’d felt guilt was to him a testimony to her character.

And he was well pleased with his choice of a wife.

She wore the garnets at the table along with the pearl on its ribbon. However, for his tastes, what he liked best was the way the candlelight reflected off the gold wedding band he had given her. He’d purchased it with money he could not afford to spend, and yet he had never made a better investment.

The servants did not act as if it was strange for his mother not to be present. Who knew what the attitude between his parents had been when he’d lived in Canada. He’d overheard whispers. Apparently, after he was sent to his uncle’s, his father had spent most of his time living in the village with Deborah. No wonder his mother was bitter. And yet Soren could not let her bile spread to his small family.

Logan ate his weight in roast mutton, potatoes, peas, and carrots. It was as if he’d not eaten the plate of sandwiches earlier. Soren was pleased that he was using a fork. There had been a time when Logan had defiantly eaten with his hands. Or perhaps he was trying to impress Cassandra. Either way, this was a good sign.

That night, when Soren took his son to his bed in the nursery, Logan stopped him in the doorway. “I don’t want to sleep here.”

“But this is your room.”

“I don’t want this room. No lock,” Logan insisted, and Soren understood what he’d meant. If he’d been held prisoner for weeks in a room, would he want go back into it? He thought not.

“One moment,” he told his son. He went into the room, set the candle on the dresser, and then paused, looking around. The top of the furniture was dusty. Further inspection showed that the chamber pot had been emptied but not cleaned. He would have words with Mrs. Branwell. His son was right not to want to sleep here.

He picked up the mattress, bedclothes and all. He went out in the hall. “Let us go, sir.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my room.” He didn’t have to repeat himself. Logan skipped ahead in happy agreement.

The two of them set up a pallet on Soren’s floor in the space between the wall and the bed. “Here now, brush your teeth,” Soren said. He brought a chair over to the washstand for Logan to stand on as he performed the task.

The door between his room and Cassandra’s opened. She stood there in a nightdress and the green dressing robe she’d worn that fateful night. Her hair curled down around her shoulders, the way he liked it.

“You have company,” she noticed.

“Hello, friend,” Logan said, before spitting into the basin.

“You don’t spit there,” Soren warned. “You spit in this mug.” He moved it closer to the basin.

“Why do I have to do this?” Logan complained. He held up the brush.

“To keep your teeth in your head,” Soren admonished. He’d met a barber who swore teeth fell out because mouths were filthy. “And so you don’t wake with the breath of a goat.”

Logan laughed.

“What does he wear to bed?” Cass asked, looking around the room.

“The same thing I do.”

“You’re kidding. He will freeze.”

“He hasn’t yet.” Soren looked at her. “Perhaps his nakedness might be why my mother locked the door?”

“You know her better than I.”

“The nurse did make a comment. She said she would dress him for night and in the morning, he would be undressed.”

“Again, like his father.”

He grinned and walked over to her. There was a kiss and a second one. “I will see you later,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I hope. Don’t dress.” She closed the door.

Having finished with his teeth, Logan jumped off the chair. He picked up Miss Edgeworth’s book that was on the upholstered chair before the hearth and, with a busy air, walked to the connecting door and knocked.

Cass opened the door. “You forgot this, friend.” Soren’s son handed her the book.

She knelt to his eye level. “Thank you. Do you like books?”

His answer was a shake of his head. “His father’s son,” Soren said. “But then, I’m not certain how well he understands what they are.”

Cassandra changed her question. “Do you like stories?”

“What kind of stories?” Logan asked.

“Stories about adventurers like you,” she said, touching his nose. “Or about places you have yet to see. Even places you’ve already been.”

“I like stories.”

“I do, too.” She stood. “Tomorrow, we’ll share some stories. I will tell you one and then it will be your turn to tell me.”