Running her fingers absently over the perfect pearls around her neck, she thought of her mother’s legacy. After all, once she married, she would be wealthy enough to afford whatever she wished. She’d be free of others’ opinions and she could hire the best housekeeper in the world and let her sing while she sewed on buttons.
Nonetheless, it had not been easy to have stepsisters who laughed at her—that is, on all matters save Soren. They thought he was the most handsome, most daring lad in Cornwall and had ceased purposefully irritating her. Other girls started to include her. She hadn’t been considered an odd goose, and that had felt good.
Then there was the slate incident, followed by Soren seemingly disappearing from her life, and she’d been forced to soldier on alone. She had been miserable. The best thing that had happened to her was her father moving them all to London. In the city, she met Willa and Leonie and began to thrive.
Cassandra sat for a long time mulling over the past but with a different lens. Perhaps she shouldn’t have blamed him for everything—
A knock on the door sounded before it opened. Her father and stepmother entered the room.
“Here you are,” her father said with his usual blustery good humor he wore for appearances’ sake. It was a sign that he was happy with her. “We have been looking for you everywhere.”
“Is dinner over?” Cassandra asked, rising. She’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts, she had lost track of time.
“Oh, yes,” he answered. “In fact, most are already to their beds.”
“Has Maggie been here yet?” Helen wondered. Maggie was Helen’s lady’s maid, whom she and Cassandra shared when they traveled.
“No, she has not,” Cassandra answered.
“When I’m done with her, I’ll send her to you. I’m exhausted. Traveling today and then enduring that endless feast downstairs has taken its toll. Do you mind if I go off to bed, Thomas?”
“Not at all, my love. And this will give me a chance to speak to my daughter alone.”
“That is what I thought you wanted. A private moment. Good night, Cassandra.” There was no kiss on the cheek between them. Theirs was not that sort of relationship.
“Good night, Helen,” Cassandra dutifully answered.
Once they were alone, her father placed his thumb on her chin to pull her head down for her to look at him. “What did Dewsberry do to you? Did he say something?”
Yes, Papa, he said he wants to marry me.
Those words never left her mouth. She held up a dismissive hand. “He barely spoke to me for the short time I was at dinner. And even if he had, I would not have paid him any attention.”
“I saw him trying to talk to you.” He released her chin. “I know he’s interested. He’d take any woman who had money. He’s done up, broken. He barely has two shillings to his name.” He laughed his pleasure. “You missed what happened after dinner. The Marchioness of Haddingdon followed him around all evening. Made a complete cake of herself.”
“She’s at least thirty years older than he is,” Cassandra protested.
“What is age when money is involved? She’s rich. That is all a scoundrel like Dewsberry is interested in. I should tip off her son. He’d horsewhip Dewsberry if he knew.”
The suggestion horrified her. “You sound happy that one of our Cornish neighbors is in trouble.”
Her father laughed. “I am, because I don’t want him for a neighbor. He’s finished, Cassandra. All those York pikers who have looked down their arrogant noses at the Holwells can kiss my arse. I might buy Pentreath myself—”
“Buy Pentreath?”
“Aye, the rumor is that it will be on the chopping block soon. I have my lawyer studying the matter. But enough of this. What of the duke?”
It took a mental pivot for Cassandra to overcome her shock that Soren could lose his ancestral home, to her father’s interest in the duke. “I don’t think Camberly is interested.”
This was not the first time she’d had to give her father this news. He was ever hopeful and always encouraging. He obviously didn’t see her the same way gentlemen of his choosing did. Those who did offer for her rarely met his standards. He was very particular.
“I don’t know about that,” he countered. “Yes, I was confused when he paired you up with Dewsberry and sat the two of you halfway down the table out of his and my reach; however, I believe he was being clever. I wish you’d been in the reception room when the gentlemen joined the ladies after dinner. You might have been in for a surprise.”
“What do you mean?”
He tapped a finger against his nose. “Before dinner, His Grace set a straight course for you when he entered the room.”
That was true.
