“But I don’t want you tofight for me.”
“Then stop making it so damn difficult.”
And she realized they weren’t talking about the duel.
As did Lord Bainhurst. “I will wait over there,” he said, indicating his group of friends, “while the two of you hash this out.”
Neither of them answered him. He could come or go as he pleased. They had something more important to discuss—themselves.
Soren took a step toward her. “I know you have been raised to believe every York is a wastrel but damn it all, Cassandra, I’ve worked hard to be a better man. I have businesses in Canada. Or, I had them. They were struggling when I was called home to take over the title and care for my mother. What with the war, I could be even more of a pauper than I am now. How is that for honesty? But you, too, are not without faults. For one, you are more pigheaded than your father.”
“Pigheaded—?”
“Yes, stubborn, obstinate, ridiculous even.”
“I know what pigheaded means—”
“Then stop fighting me. I’m not the one who made the rules but here they are—if you refuse to marry me and I don’t duel with Bainhurst, then there isn’t a soul in London who won’t think you a fool. They will pity you because you ruined yourself.”
He was right, both about what would happen to her, and her pigheadedness. She resisted accepting the truth even as he rationally laid it out to her. It was all unfair.
Soren sensed his advantage. “What choice will you make, Cassandra? Will you marry me and save Bainhurst’s miserable life? Or should I run him through?”
“It would be unwise to kill him. He is a powerful man.”
“I’m in a powerful mood. And he has lost all sense of judgment over that adulterous wife of his.”
“You know.” The information caught her off guard. She’d not told him what she’d witnessed the night before.
“That Letty Bainhurst is ready for a tumble in any man’s arms? Oh, yes. The person who doesn’t know is Camberly. He is besotted with her. But then, so is her husband.”
“Are your debts bad?” she asked. After all, she did have a practical mind.
“I could lose Pentreath,” he answered soberly. “I’m doing everything I can to save it. The castle isn’t just my birthright, but my son’s.”
His son. If she married him, she would be the mother of his children. She would not be alone or the object of scorn and pity. “I don’t want to be the unmarried relation,” she murmured.
“I imagine it would be like being buried alive for a woman.”
He was right, and no matter what her parents said, that was the truth of it.
Lord Bainhurst called out, “Dewsberry, shall we move on with it?”
“No,” Cassandra called, even as Soren said, “Yes.”
She frowned at him. He shrugged his answer. “I am going to do what is honorable. One way or the other.”
“It doesn’t seem right that we should be forced to marry because of last night,” she insisted. “Nothing happened... except it might have helped if you had been dressed. I was shocked you don’t sleep in nightclothes.”
A wicked grin flashed across his face. He took another step toward her. They stood so close, she could feel his body heat. “There are other things I do that might shock you as well... at first. Does that make my offer more tempting? Or do you wish to spend the rest of your life playing safe?”
There it was, her choice. She could do what her father expected, which was safe. Or she could embrace what Fate had placed before her. Soren knew how to tempt her.
“In honesty, Cass, of all the heiresses in the world, I like you best.”
She rather liked him as well, when she wasn’t exasperated with him.
Still, for the sake of argument, she had to say, “You don’t know me, Soren. Not any longer. We are both very different than the children we were.”
