Soren placed strong, protective hands upon her shoulders, steadying her. “I believe that is enough, Holwell.”
Her father sneered in response. He looked to Mr. Brock and Mr. Lloyd and the bailiff, raising a hand as if to present Soren and Cassandra to them. “Can you believe this? Even after Penelope died on me, I did what was right. And look what it has earned for me? A faithless daughter who hops into the bed of my enemy.”
Soren lunged forward. Cassandra dug in her heels, to hold him back. She spoke, wanting, needing clarification. “You are not my father?”
The words said aloud answered many questions. In truth, they were not alike in looks, height, or temperament. And she’d never been able to please him, no matter how hard she tried . . .
MP Holwell lifted his chin in defiance. “I raised you, didn’t I?”
He had. He’d also kept her at an arm’s distance. He’d preferred her stepsisters over herself, and she’d never understood why. She’d thought the failing was hers. The only time he’d been happy with her was when her status as an heiress allowed them to attend the routs and parties of the titled and important. Otherwise, his abrasive personality would have shut him out.
“Is any of the money left?” she asked.
He started to answer and then closed his mouth as if he was a sullen clam.
“All my life I’ve been praised for my good sense and intellect,” she said. “I don’t feel clever now. Why didn’t you tell me the truth, especially after my grandfather died? Why did you go on pretending?”
“You have my name. That is the truth.”
“But you lied about any feeling for me.”
“Of course I have some feeling for you.”
“Do you? You were actually relieved I ruined myself at the Duchess of Camberly’s, weren’t you? You and Helen were anxious to ship me off and keep me unmarried because then no one would question where the money had gone.”
“Well, the knowledge is out now.”
More accurate words had never been spoken.
Cassandra looked around the hall at their audience—Bevil stood with pen and ink and a dumbfounded expression on his face. Mr. Brock and Mr. Lloyd appeared to have been fascinated by the unfolding of the story. The bailiff looked as if he wished he could just leave.
And then there was her husband, who had thought this marriage would save his family home.
“Cass? Are you all right?” Soren spoke close to her ear.
She looked back at him and wanted to burst into tears, but she wouldn’t. She had to be strong. The sympathy she saw in his eyes was not good for her resolve.
Indeed, her knees felt wobbly as a complete understanding of what her father’s faithless actions would mean to her. She had no money. She had no father. Everything she had thought about herself was a lie.
“You took my mother’s sapphires.” Her voice was quiet, but inside she had a strong desire to scream.
“What sapphires?” he said, looking right at her. He didn’t even hide the fact he was lying to her.
Her fingers curled into talons. She could claw the smug smile off his face.
Soren’s hold on her tightened as if he could read her mind. “He is not worth it.”
“I’m not,” MP Holwell agreed. “And you have other matters to worry over, such as where you and your penniless husband will live.”
“I must insist these papers are signed, my lady,” the bailiff said. He sounded regretful. “The court has ordered that His Lordship’s estate be signed over to Mr. Huggett.”
“Happy marriage, Cassandra,” MP Holwell said. “Enjoy the bed you’ve made for yourself as a York.” He turned and started back to his study, his step wobbly. “Throw them all out, Bevil.”
To his credit, the butler did not move. He appeared as stricken as Cassandra with the news. “I’m sorry, my lady. I did not know.”
“How could you?” she answered. Her gaze dropped to the gray marble floor. Her mind still struggled to make sense of everything.
Soren turned her around to face him. “We’ll manage,” he promised. “We will. Huggett isn’t a bad sort. He only wants his money. The day may come when I can purchase Pentreath back from him. Believe in me, Cassandra. We’ll come back from this.” He moved to take the ink and pen from Bevil. “I will sign the documents here.” He indicated a side table in the hall.
However, something he said struck her. Mr. Huggett didn’t want the castle. He wanted money. He wanted payment—
“Wait,” Cassandra said. “Will Mr. Huggett accept payment for the debt?”
“That is what he wants, my lady,” Mr. Brock answered.
“Then give him these.” Cassandra lifted the Bingham pearls from around her neck.
“No, Cass—”
“Yes, my lord.” She offered them to her husband. The pearls weighed heavy in her hand. Certainly they could cover whatever debt he owed. They were known for their perfection. “Pay the debt with them, please.”
He didn’t move. “They are yours. They are your mother’s legacy to you.”
“Do you have another way of paying our debt?” she asked.
Of course he didn’t. His silence was the answer.
“The man who claimed to be my father has wasted everything that was mine on his vanity and pride. At least I know that by giving you these, you will secure the future for our children. Save our son’s birthright, Soren. Do what must be done.”
Her words did not reassure him. He appeared stricken, as if he’d failed her in ways that she could not fathom. He did not move toward her, and she thought she understood. There would be a cost to his pride. He had nothing to offer in return, except he had already given her so much. He had been here when she needed him.
Now, she wanted to be a buttress in his life as well.
Mr. Lloyd spoke up, “My lord? Do you wish to discuss this with Mr. Huggett? He might be very interested in the exchange. Those pearls are quite extraordinary. They could clear the debt and then some.”
Still, Soren did not move.
“For our son,” Cassandra urged. “So that he has something to inherit.”
At last, he nodded, as if forcing himself to face what must be done. “I should see my wife to the Pulteney before I speak to Huggett.”
“I can make my own way, Soren,” Cassandra said. They still didn’t have a coin for a hack. “Take care of this matter. Let’s be done with it.”
“I’ll go with her, my lord,” Abby said from the stairs behind her.
Cassandra smiled up at the maid, thankful for her loyalty. “See, all is well. Right and proper,” she assured Soren. “You call on Mr. Huggett and I’ll be waiting for you at the hotel. Don’t let Holwell win.”
It was her last words that moved him. She could see the change. He went from being conflicted to willing to fight with all he had. He kissed her. It was a hasty kiss, one performed in front of others, but it was also a promise.
“I will make this up to you, my lady.”
The wedding vows that she had repeated without any actual understanding echoed in her head. “All I have is yours, my lord.”
He nodded, and then faced Brock and Lloyd. “Let us see Huggett.”
Cassandra watched them go out the door before standing one last moment in the house that had been her home. She looked to the butler. “Why, Bevil, you appear ashamed of yourself, as you should.”
The servant’s response was to duck his head and move down the hall toward the back of the house. He was still carrying the tray with ink and pen.
“Are you ready, Abby?”
“Yes, my lady. Let me fetch my bonnet.”
In a few minutes, the two of them were out the door. It was late afternoon. Once they left the pleasant surroundings of Mayfair, the streets grew busier. Cassandra remembered walking this way with Soren, except she had a different attitude now.
She wasn’t an heiress. She didn’t know quite how she felt about that. The idea of being poor hadn’t completely set in yet. That sh
e was no longer apart from others because of money might not be such a bad thing.
Her father wasn’t her father.
That was a thornier issue.
So, who was the man who had sired her? What sort of character did he have, and was he still alive? Her thoughts went to her mother who had carried a secret that was now the mystery of Cassandra’s life. She reached up reflexively to touch the beloved pearls, and dropped her hand to her side when she was met with empty space.
She considered Soren and her deepening feelings for him. Had her mother felt the same way toward her lover? Had Cassandra received her passionate nature? And how could such a wealthy young woman be able to have what must have been a forbidden assignation?
Cassandra had been well chaperoned since she had first been sent out into Society. The Bingham Heiress would have been far more valuable than the Holwell Heiress—so why hadn’t her grandfather been more vigilant?
“If he had, I wouldn’t be here.”
Cassandra didn’t realize she had spoken aloud until Abby said, “I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“I was thinking.”
Abby nodded. This was not the first time Cassandra had become lost in her own thoughts.
She looked to the maid. “Losing the sapphires is sad, but I will miss the books.”
“I knew you would, my lady.”
They had reached the Pulteney. Cassandra was exhausted. Today had been one of highs and terrible lows. Her legs hurt from the unaccustomed exercise, and yet it had helped her frantic thoughts to walk.
At this time of the day, the Pulteney was extremely busy. Cassandra faced the maid. “I had thought to ask if you’d like to be in my employ. I would still like to do so, although I’m uncertain of our circumstances. Perhaps once my lord and I are settled, we can discuss the matter?”
Abby blushed and bobbed a curtsey. “Thank you, my lady. I understand. I’ve seen difficult times myself.”
Difficult times. Cassandra had never known one second when she had to fend for herself. She’d read about hardships and had heard lectures in church concerning them. She’d always assumed that she’d have the moral character to face them . . . but she hadn’t truly thought she would ever do so.
“With the state my father—”
Cassandra stopped. “My father,” didn’t sound right. She tried again, “With the state your employer is in, I doubt he will welcome you back after you walked out the door with me.”
“I know that Mr. Holwell will not keep me in his employ,” Abby assured her. “I knew that when he took your dresses away to sell. Don’t worry about me. My aunt works for the Duchess of Bedford and there is a position in that household. I hadn’t accepted it because I have enjoyed working for you.”
“The Duchess of Bedford is a step up, no?”
“Yes, my lady. Well, you would have been a step up and I would have been honored to serve you. However, I need to see to myself.”
“I’m not criticizing you at all, Abby. I believe you are quite wise. You can find your way home?”
“Yes, my lady, I walk this city daily. Be careful.” Abby bobbed another curtsey and took her leave, and Cassandra found herself on the street alone.
It was a strange feeling.
She made her way to the reception. The clerk remembered her and bowed and scraped as he handed the key to her. Considering his reaction to the Dewsberry title when they first arrived, she wondered how he would act if he knew she was broke. She would soon find out. Bad news had a nasty way of making itself known.
Going up the stairs, Cassandra’s mind puzzled over this twist to her life. It would have been nice to have had more dresses and definitely the smallclothes. However, her life of social obligations was about to end. What did people do who didn’t have money?
She unlocked the door to the room and let herself inside. She crossed to her valise and removed the clothing and shoes. She treated them with respect. This was all she owned. Three day dresses, two gowns, the accoutrements she had needed to wear with each, and her nightclothes. Her sensible pair of walking shoes was currently rubbing a blister on her right heel because she’d never walked in them as much as she had today. She also possessed two pairs of the softest kid slippers ever made.
She took off the shoes and slipped her feet into a pair of the slippers. Immediately her feet felt better.
Once the valise was empty, she lifted the false bottom and picked up the garnet necklace and bracelet and her diamond hairpins. Why had she not thought to take the sapphires to Mayfield with her?
She held the jewels in her hands. These, too, she would give to Soren. She assumed they would be sold and she didn’t mind. They didn’t hold the sentimental value of the pearls.
She put the jewels back in the velvet-lined compartment and replaced the false bottom. She spent a few moments hanging her clothes. She must take good care of them now. She was also probably going to be her own maid. She knew little of pressing dresses and laundry. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to learn about those things.
After she was done, she sat and wondered what else she could do. Evening was falling. She was tired and hungry. She had no idea how to find a meal for herself and no money to pay for one.
It would be nice to have a book. She had taught herself to read when she was the precocious age of four. She’d always sensed that books were important. Her first book had been her nurse’s Bible. Nurse had been one for telling stories, and Cassandra’s curiosity had wanted to know where the stories had come from. She now tried to keep fears at bay by thinking of those stories of faith and resiliency.
At some point, she dozed in the chair. A knock on the door woke her with a start. The room was dark.
“Cass?” Soren’s voice said from the other side. “Let me in.”
She’d never known such relief as having him return. She moved hesitantly toward the door, found the handle, turned the key, and opened it.
Light from the hallway sconces made her blink as she stepped into Soren’s reassuring arms.
“Come down here and light the candles,” he called to a porter sitting at the top of the stairs.
“Yes, my lord,” the man said, and hurried into the room to do Soren’s bidding. “I’m sorry, my lord, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
Once the porter had left, she explained to Soren. “His chair was empty when I came to the room. I didn’t know to ask him to light the room and then I fell asleep.”
He smiled, the expression tight. She could not tell if he was happy or not. “What did Mr. Huggett say?”
“My debt is paid. I own Pentreath.”
“That is good?” She was asking because he didn’t seem pleased. Instead, he paced the room as if dissatisfied.
He stopped, reminding her of nothing less than a caged lion sensing the air. “Yes. Good.”
Her stomach knotted. She did not like his mood. It made her uncomfortable. Another first. She’d rarely worried about others’ moods before, save her father’s. Such is the life of the humbled.
“I will make this up to you, Cass.”
He was standing no more than five feet from her, and yet she sensed there was a chasm between them.
“It is of no import,” she lied.
“That is not true. Those pearls were valuable. Huggett knew a jeweler who recognized them. They are rather infamous.”
She nodded. “I said they were known.”
“I—” he started and then stopped. He pushed himself to go on. “I’m embarrassed.”
She crossed the chasm, sliding her arms around his waist. This was good. This is what she’d been wanting. He held her tight. Holwell had been wrong about him, about them.
He drew away so that he could reach into his pocket. “The jeweler allowed me to save one of the pearls for you once I explained how important they were to you.” He pulled out a single perfect pearl strung on a piece of black ribbon.
She touched the pearl. It was warm from his body heat. “Thank you.” It looked
lonely.
“Let me put it on you,” he said. She turned, and he tied a knot where she wanted it.
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.”
A Match Made in Bed Page 15