A Match Made in Bed (Spinster Heiresses #2)(76)

“Do you drive, Cassandra?” Soren asked her.

“It has been some time, but I imagine I could,” she answered. She’d had no need to drive herself in the city.

“I drive,” Logan announced.

“There, you are in good hands,” Soren said.

Cassandra thought he was jesting, until one of the stable lads brought the cart around. Logan set his hat, a miniature version of his father’s, at a rakish angle and picked up the reins.

He barely waited for Cassandra to take a seat before he flicked them and off they went.

She looked back at Soren, who was laughing. “You should see him ride that pony,” he assured her.

It was lovely day for an outing, even though it was a bit overcast. Yesterday, they had told each other stories. Today, Cassandra shared her favorite poems she’d memorized with him. Logan liked the language of the poems, sometimes repeating the words.

Another advantage to having Logan drive was that he knew where he was going. He followed a wagon track through the wood, and on the other side was a house that Cassandra would be hard-pressed to call a cottage.

It might have been a home the first Dewsberry built for his family. It was Elizabethan in style with mullioned windows, a stone roof, and a brick walk. Rooms had been added on over the years. No wonder Soren didn’t have money, she reflected. This was quite an estate to maintain.

One of the maids from the main house answered the door. Cassandra knew that Soren had assigned a number of them to see to his mother’s comfort. “I shall see if she is in to you, my lady. Would you like to come in?”

Logan had stayed by the cart. “Are you coming in with me?” Cassandra asked.

“I will keep my pony company.”

“Don’t ruin your clothes,” she said to him.

His look was one of complete surprise that she would even think of him doing such a thing. She went inside carrying her basket.

Of course, the house was in a bit of disarray. It would take time for Arabella to arrange the rooms the way she wanted them. The maid left her in a lovely sitting room overlooking the front lawn, where Logan had unhitched the pony. Cassandra watched him hop on the animal’s back without the benefit of a saddle— “What are you doing here?” Arabella demanded from the doorway.

Not the best welcome Cassandra had ever received, but what could one expect? “I brought you some treats.”

“Give them to the girl.”

Cassandra handed the basket to the maid, who appeared a tad befuddled over what she should do with it. “Take it to the kitchen, you stupid child,” Arabella said.

The maid ducked her head and did as bid. Cassandra felt sorry for her.

“You don’t need to pretend to care for me,” Arabella announced.

“You are my lord’s mother. Of course, we care what happens to you.”

“But I have been put out of my home.” She’d not taken one step into the room.

“I can understand how upsetting that is. However, Soren and I will not let anyone hurt Logan.”

“It isn’t right,” Arabella said. She walked into the sitting room and saw Logan out the window. He was now trotting the pony in circles on the front lawn. “He isn’t all English. He should not be Dewsberry’s heir.”

“By all that is right, he is English and he is the heir.”

“I’ve never seen proof of a marriage. Have you?”

“I take my lord’s word for it.”

Arabella cut the air with a dismissive hand. “Then I am better off where I am.”

Cassandra silently agreed they all were.

Her mother-in-law faced her. “You don’t have to stay.”

“No, but I wish to visit. If you have time.”

“All I do have is time. Until death.” She looked around the house. “I might as well be here as anywhere.”

Cassandra adopted some of her husband’s words of encouragement. “I’m sure there is something you can do. Why, you could garden,” Cassandra suggested, too late remembering the mess of the gardens in Pentreath’s back lawn.

“What does that do for me?”

“It feeds the spirit.”

“My spirit was fed by being Lady Dewsberry. Even when my husband shamed me with that harlot of his and his bastard children, the title gave me importance. Now that I’m widowed, I am nothing.”

Cassandra could have felt compassion for her plight until Arabella added meanly, “But I rest in the pleasant assurance that someday you, too, will be supplanted.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing? I’m not taking your place. I’m trying to find my own way.”

“You are in Cornwall,” Arabella haughtily informed her. “There is nothing for us here.”

How many times had Cassandra said the same herself?

And yet, hearing her mother-in-law speak this way drove home the realization that, if she wasn’t careful, this could be her fate.

Cassandra was not going to let that happen. She moved to the door. “Well, thank you for your counsel,” she said. “I will take your advice to heart. If you need anything, please send word to the house. We want you comfortable.”

Cassandra then marched out of the house, anxious to leave.

“Logan, let us go.”