The heat left her.
Her hand reached out to touch the wooden top of the washbasin. She rubbed a finger along the grain as if in deep thought. Her whole being softened with sadness, and he realized she wasn’t as set against him as she pretended.
“Cass—” he started. Yes, he sensed an opportunity in his favor, and he was desperate enough to mine it.
She cut him off. “Our friendship was a long time ago,” she admitted. “I was quite naïve then. The picture you drew on the slate, it didn’t really matter, Soren. I’ve been called worse names, especially back then. But what hurt was your callousness. I thought you understood what your friendship meant to me. You see, everyone liked you. They thought I was odd. I didn’t fit in. And all of the parish believed my family had unfairly taken your grandfather’s lands. Even now, they don’t like the Holwells overmuch. I try never to go back Lantern Fields.” She referred to the house Toland had built on York lands.
“Nonsense. How many elections has your father won?”
“Three, and that is only because no one runs against him. They don’t have the money, even though they distrust him.”
Shewasmore perceptive than he had imagined. “I’m certain you are admired,” he offered.
“And I’m certain you are mouthing meaningless flattery. How is that for plain speaking? There are few in Cornwall who have use for an outspoken, headstrong woman. And I return their feelings. When my father was first elected, I was happy to escape to London. It was freedom to finally be myself. I have a good life in the city. I shall not return to Cornwall. Ever.”
Well, that was that.
What was left to be said between them?
Honesty.
“I’m sorry for my rude drawing. You are right, it wasn’t kind of me. I can only say in my defense that I’d just learned Father was sending me away to Canada. He hadn’t paid my school fees. My education wasn’t as important to him as a good hour in a gaming den. Then, again, I wasn’t, either. It didn’t bother him that I’d been asked not to return, that his gambling had once again humiliated me.” Nowhewas the one to take a step away. “That day, I was angry at everyone and unfortunately acted out in an unsuitable manner.”
She frowned at the top of the washbasin as if digesting what he’d said. He wished he could read her thoughts. She seemed so distant—and so much like the lonely girl who had first caught his interest.
And then she looked up. “Thank you for your apology.”
“Then we are fine with each other?”
“I won’t marry you,” she answered.
“I haven’t asked you.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes.
“I won’t lie, my father left nothing in his estate,” he admitted. “However, even worse would be having a wife who doesn’t want me.”
He’d already learned that lesson. Marriage was tricky business.
She nodded as if agreeing he was right—she didn’t want him.
A keen stab of disappointment shot through him... but he would survive. He always survived.
She moved toward the door. This time, he didn’t stop her.
However, instead of leaving, she paused, her hand on the door handle. She glanced back at him. For a moment, she had the appearance of an exquisite porcelain model of a true English Rose with her blond curls and her blue eyes dark and considering.
Oh, there was depth to Cassandra Holwell. There always had been.
“It is not that I don’t believe you wouldn’t be a good husband,” she said.
“Are you going to give me that Holwell and York nonsense again?”
She had the good grace to blush.
“Then what is it?” he prodded. She had opened the topic. Let her finish it.
“I want greater things for my life, Soren.”
