Then again, the duke had come from that direction, making an appearance that had surprised everyone in the room by his lack of fanfare. Still... Soren washere.
The tingling of the hairs at the nape of her neck had never failed her, especially since she’d been exercising it more than she wished for the past month. Soren seemed to be everywhere she went in spite of her best efforts to avoid him because she knew what he wanted—marriage.
Dewsberry might be an old and respected title, but the earldom was done up, ruined by generations of poor decisions and unwise gambling. Soren was hunting her because of the money she would inherit upon marriage and because her father’s lands abutted his. He was that obvious. However, she thought herself safe here. Why would Camberly, who also needed a rich wife, invite a competitor?
Unless the duke thought to hand off whichever heiress he didn’t want to Dewsberry?
The walls in the room seemed to close in around her.
She would not marry Dewsberry. She couldn’t.
Her father would never allow it. The Yorks were his enemies. They looked down on the Holwells, and neither she nor her father would subject themselves to their high-handed treatment.
But also, Soren had betrayed her. She could recall perfectly the pain of what he’d done to her. It had been close to eleven years ago, and the hurt, the disappointment, was still surprisingly raw.
From the other side of the room, her father caught her eye. He was of average height, with bushy eyebrows and hair that had gone gray at a young age. Helen stood at his side as she always did. She had a short nose and a determined chin. Her hair had once been red but had faded to a dull brown. Her father had noticed Cassandra wasn’t paying attention to the duke. With a scowl and a jerk of his head, he silently commanded her to focus on her business. His goal was for her to marry a titled man. He wanted his descendants to be “the highest of the high,” such as a duke.
And he was right; she was not listening to Camberly.
She plastered a smile on her face and an expression of feigned interest. The duke was talking about friends. She pretended she understood the thread of the conversation. Apparently, he’d been at a horse race? Or riding in a park? She wasn’t certain.
Fortunately, the duke and Lady Bainhurst liked to hear themselves talk so there hadn’t been much call for her or Willa to offer a response. Besides, women in need of a husband were expected to listen more than “jabber,” something her stepmother was always upon her about.
You have too many opinions, Cassandra, she liked to say.We’ll never find a husband for you. Two daughters I’ve easily married off, but you? I don’t know. I just don’t know.
This Season, Cassandra was truly making an effort to be all that she should be. She’d had offers in the past, but her suitors had been penniless younger sons or worse, tradesmen. Her father had rejected them all—
The duke’s next words snapped her out of her worried woolgathering. “...Take my good friend Dewsberry. There are few men who are better riders. He has a gift for understanding horses.”
Willa, bless her heart, dared to ask what Cassandra feared. “Is Lord Dewsberry here?”
“Of course,” the duke answered. “Such a good man.”
“Yes, he is,” Lady Bainhurst chimed in brightly. “And quite handsome, don’t you agree, Miss Holwell?”
So. There it was. Her intuition was once again correct.
Cassandra looked at the duke’s classic male beauty and dropped her gaze to her lap before choking out, “I suppose.”
It was a lackluster response but then, look at what she was losing. It was now apparent to her that the duke was more interested in Willa. Why else would he be hobnobbing with them in a room full of far more important people?
As for herself? Camberly was playing matchmaker.
At that moment, the butler stepped into the room.
Expectantly, everyone looked in his direction. “Minerva, Duchess of Camberly,” he announced. “Escorted by the Earl of Dewsberry.”
Willa leaned back toward her. “You are uncanny.”
“I wish I hadn’t been right,” Cassandra answered under her breath as she and Willa rose politely with the others in deference to the duchess.
The butler stepped aside and Soren came forward with the aged dowager on his arm.
“Shouldn’t you be the one escorting your grandmother?” Lady Bainhurst said to the duke.
“I’d much rather be right here,” he answered.
Yes, here... with Willa, Cassandra thought.
