“Cass, no one in Cornwall thinks ill of you.”
“I didn’t say they thought ill of me. What I said was they thought me different from them. You knew that even when we were children. I am an outsider there. The happiest day of my life was moving to London. There is always something interesting to do and I have met women who are the same as me.”
“Same as you?”
“Yes, women who think.”
“Women think in Cornwall.” Keep your temper, Soren, he warned himself. He had fought the wolf from the door. Now, he needed to make decisions that were in their best interest—and she argued?
“Yes, the women think,” she agreed. “But not about anything interesting.”
“ ‘Interesting,’ ” he repeated. “What does that mean? Is it ‘interesting’ to realize we can’t afford to live in London?
Her chin lifted. “I just don’t believe you are taking my concerns seriously. Or that you are not listening to me.”
Now, here was something he had heard before. Hadn’t that been Mary’s complaint against him—that he hadn’t understood? He’d believed Mary’s accusation had been because he was white and she a native . . . but that wasn’t the case here. What if Mary had been trying to tell him that she had needed something more of him?
What if he was being too dismissive?
That was an uncomfortable thought.
However, the clear fact was, they didn’t have the money to live in a city like London and rebuild Pentreath. “Cassandra, life is about making good choices. If I could let you live in London, I would. But we don’t have the money. Perhaps, you could be the one to make country life interesting. As my lady, you’ll have the power to create the community you wish around Pentreath and you might find it very satisfying. I admit, I actually prefer the country. It is more relaxed so my thinking seems clearer.”
“To the point of boredom,” she countered. “There are no museums or plays. I don’t like sport. I’m a timid rider. The only activities a gentlewoman can perform are church and good works. But the true problem remains, they don’t like me there. You know how set in their ways they are. They don’t admire clever women and I’m not pretty enough for them to accept me on looks.”
Here was a charge he could sink his teeth into. “I don’t know who told you that you are not attractive, but they are wrong. You are lovely, Cass, and beautiful to me. I am proud of your bright mind. I pray we have children with your intelligence.”
“Says the man who owns the castle I just saved.”
It wasn’t just the denial of his words that set him back, it was the vehemence in her response.
He held up a warning hand. “Whoa. I’m trying to understand your feelings.”
“You can’t. Everyone likes you.”
“They like you, too.”
“That is a lie and we both know it.”
Cassandra hated arguing with him. He thought she was being ridiculous. He believed he was making the best decision.
But it wasn’t one she wanted. Every fiber of her being rebelled against it. She had to make him understand. Not only was he her husband, he was now the only family she had.
“Soren, when I’m in the country, I feel as if I’ve been buried alive.”
“Did you feel that way at Camberly’s?”
“At the house party? Three hours from London? You know it isn’t the same.”
“Cass, you are—”
“Cassandra.” The word exploded out of her.
Her best intentions—to let him call her whatever he liked as long as he was happy—were suddenly a denial of herself. Her hands had balled into fists. “I prefer to be called Cassandra. I’ve said this before. You ignore me.”
She waited, ready for him to belittle her desires.
A tense silence settled between them.
He spoke. “I must return to Pentreath.”
“I will stay here.”
“You can’t. There is not enough money. But the most important reason for you coming with me is that you are my wife.”
“Then why don’t you want to please me? Why would you want me to be so unhappy?”
“Why must you be coddled?”
That charge upset her. “Coddled?” She warned him back with a raised hand. “I’ve just saved you from ruin and I don’t receive a say concerning my future?”
“No,” he answered. “I want you with me and I must return to Cornwall. I must return to my son.”
That was not an answer she could have anticipated.
The world seemed to reel a moment in her mind and when it righted itself, she looked to him, believing she’d misunderstood. “Son?”
“I was married before.”
That news shocked her even more. She moved away from him. There was a chair by the desk next to the window. She sat, folding her hands in her lap, and leaned back against the hard wood. It was solid, unlike anything she was feeling right now.
Soren had a son. He’d been married. “Why didn’t anyone tell me these things? Why didn’t you?”
“Cassandra,” he said, her name both a plea and an impatient demand for her to be sensible.
But she wasn’t feeling particularly sensible at the moment. “You had time. I danced with you—”
“You actually were trying to do everything in your power not to dance with me,” he reminded her.
She conceded the point. “But you could have mentioned a son.”
“I did. I told you yesterday morning I wanted to save Pentreath for him.”
She frowned. “I don’t remember you saying anything of the sort.”
“It was on the dueling field.”
Cassandra shook her head.
“Well, there was quite a bit happening at the time. You can’t be blamed for not fully understanding what I meant.”
He had not followed her across the room but stayed his ground. That was good. She needed the distance from him to think. He had a son. A child by another woman. “This is a great deal to ponder on top of the other revelations of the day. Everything I believed about you is now suspect, just as everything I had once thought about myself, including who my father was, has turned out to have no more substance than mist.”
“I’m not mist, Cassandra.” He’d used her full name without any “witticisms” to it. “And I believe we can work together to build something of substance.”
She didn’t know if she agreed with him.
Now, he crossed the floor to her and took a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk. “She was a local from Upper Canada.” He spoke as if she had asked the question.
She hadn’t. She was incapable of managing clear thought.
“The marriage turned out to be unhappy.”
She didn’t look at him. Cassandra couldn’t. Her thoughts were in turmoil. Dear Lord, she was married to Soren, and she knew nothing about him. She knew nothing about herself—
“There was a massacre. Mary was killed in it.”
His statement startled Cassandra out of her dark daze. “Massacred?” Did he jest? No, his expression was too solemn. “What happened?” She had to ask.
“It was before the war. Shortly, that is. Things happen. People take matters in their own hands on the frontier.”
“Who killed her?”
“It is not known. She was Lenape and it—”
“Wait, Lenape?”
He leaned an arm on the desk. “The Lenape are a tribe. Mary was native.”
“Oh.” Cassandra had no other response. She hadn’t pictured Soren with a wife, let alone one who wasn’t of his class.
When she didn’t say more, he continued. “Mary’s clan was not warlike.”
“And they were massacred?” Cassandra vaguely remembered reading of such things happening. She’d not imagined it as anything that would impact her life . . . but it had been part of Soren’s. He’d killed men. He’d fought. He’d known a world that was alien to her.
“Yes. By another tribe. I know nothing beyond that.�
��
“You weren’t there?”
He sat back. A wealth of pain and regret shone in his eyes, bringing home to Cassandra that they discussed a woman who had obviously been important to her husband.
“I wasn’t there,” he said. “She’d left me. She wasn’t happy living in my world.”
“Why not?” Cassandra asked with a surge of loyalty.
“I supposed she felt much like you do on the subject of living in Cornwall.”
Cassandra experienced a jab of guilt. “I don’t know that I would leave you over the decision.”
He shrugged. “We each make our choices.” His offhandedness worried her. That was not the sort of person Soren was. It meant his wife’s leaving had impacted him deeply.
“Did anyone say anything when you courted a native woman?” she wondered.
“Native women and soldiers being together was common,” Soren said. “Mary was an interpreter at the fort. She was well respected.” Then gently he added, “They said something when I married her. That is the reason I left the military.”
He’d given up his commission for his wife. He wanted Cassandra to move to Cornwall, but he had forfeited his career for this Mary. “Your parents couldn’t have known about the marriage.”
“They didn’t. I saw no reason to tell them. I was living my life my way.”
“But now you are back.”
He didn’t say anything.
A jealousy that Cassandra had not thought herself capable of feeling welled up inside her. “Did you love her?”
Love. Once again that word had popped up in her head.
He didn’t flinch in answering. “At one time. I did very much so.”
That was not what Cassandra had wanted to hear. “You must have been devastated when she was murdered.”
The sorrow deepened on his face. “The marriage wasn’t good, Cassandra. We were at odds. I learned that it was possible for two people to fall out of love and for reasons that could have been predicted. She left me to return to her people.”
“Why would she do that?”
“First, the Lenape are a matriarchal tribe that is broken into clans. The husband lives with the wife’s clan. Considering her work at the fort, I thought she had accepted white society. Once we married, well, it was all different. She wished to return to what was familiar and made sense to her. I had no desire to play Lenape brave.”
“So, you let her leave with your son?”
“I didn’t know about my child. She kept that from me. Maybe she didn’t realize she was pregnant when she left. Or perhaps she was done with me. Thinking back, I realize now she was very lonely. I wasn’t around. I had to earn money for us since I’d given up the military. I was setting up my businesses. I was busy and very involved in other things. To be honest, I expected her to see to her own needs. One day I came home and she was gone.”
“Did you look for her?”
There was a beat of silence. “I knew where she was.”
“But did you go to her? Did you talk to her?”
“Cassandra, she’d made up her mind, but, yes, I did go. She refused to see me. Her clan supported her. I was angry when I left. And I didn’t hear of her again until after she died. Her brother delivered Logan to me. He was almost four years old and had no idea who I was.”
“And you’d known nothing of his existence until then?” Soren was so resourceful, it was hard for her to believe he’d been completely unaware.
His gray eyes met hers. “I knew nothing until then. Mary wanted him raised in her culture and she knew rightly that I would be set against it. I would want him safe with me. And to be honest—”
“Ah, there is that word, ‘honest.’ ”
He ignored her. “—in those days, I wouldn’t have known what I’d do with a baby or have the time to care for him. Did I love her? Aye, at one time. I gave her all I had. But love can’t thrive when two people become set against each other. In fact, I’m fortunate that her brother brought Logan to me. As I said, the Lenape are matriarchal and the other women in the clan could have decided to raise him. But there was no one left after the attack, and he knew where he was going would be dangerous. It was really only by chance that I learned of Logan’s existence or that he was given to me.”
“How did that meeting go?”
“Miserable. Logan had lost his mother, his grandmother, his aunts. And he found himself with me.”
“What did you think when you met him?”
Soren’s expression changed. His eyes softened and there was a gleam of pride. “He’s quick. Smart. And strong and healthy. The moment I lifted him into my arms, I felt a connection with him that was stronger than any bond I’ve known.” He looked as if he couldn’t believe how fortunate he was and once again, Cassandra felt the pangs of envy.
“I’d never intended to return to England,” Soren confessed. “I liked Canada and I didn’t like my father so much. Or Cornwall.”
“I can empathize with the feeling.”
He nodded acknowledgment “However, holding Logan changed everything for me. I found I wanted Pentreath for him. Over there, I watched fathers mentor their sons. They helped them become good men and that is what I want to do for Logan. He deserves his birthright, but I also want him to be worthy of it.”
“So, you’d always meant to return to Pentreath after we married because your son is there.”
Soren sat back. Somberly he admitted, “I hoped we could work out something that would meet both of our needs. Back when we thought there would be money,” he added.
“And you don’t think you were being a bit deceptive with me?” she wondered. “You knew I didn’t hear you speak of a son yesterday.”
“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 naïve.
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.
A Match Made in Bed Page 16