No bells rang. No birds sang. But it seemed to her as if in that moment, everything was absolutely right in the world.
They kissed, and it was one of the deepest, most fulfilling ones they had ever shared because it was the pledging of a new troth between them.
Soren broke the kiss.
“Logan?” she said to him expectantly. He nodded.
She leaned around her husband. His son had climbed onto a chair and sat with his back to them as if shutting them out.
She knelt in front of him. “I love your father. I love everything about him. Do you understand what that means? It means I love you as well. You don’t have to love me in return, but let us be kind to each other. I want you to know that, like you, I lost my mother. I was sad and very angry. It seemed as if everyone wanted me to carry on. It was hard.” An unbidden tear over the memories ran down her cheek. “I won’t ask that of you.”
To her surprise, Logan reached out and gently brushed it away. Her heart expanded at his soft touch.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, and he nodded.
“Someday, your father and I will have a child together. However, I want you to know that you will always bethefirstborn.”
It would have been nice to end that with a hug or some sign of acceptance. Instead, Logan watched her with eyes that had already seen too much in his young life. She would have to wait for him to come to her.
There was a footstep at the doorway. Elliot’s voice said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, my lord, but Cook wondered if anyone would be coming to the table?”
“Oh, I believe we can eat more, don’t you, Logan?” His son nodded. “We will be right there, Elliot.”
The butler withdrew. Soren helped Cassandra to her feet. “That was well said,” he said. “Thank you.” He tapped his son lightly on the head. “Come, Logan. We must wash for dinner.”
In that moment, Cassandra fell in love a little bit more. Did he understand how manly he was when he showed his son how to be a proper gentleman?
Logan rose from the chair and dutifully took his father’s hand. But then he held out his other. “Come, friend,” he said.
Friend. Just as she had suggested.
And someday, he might call her mother. Or think of her as one.
She prayed she would be worthy of the title. She took his hand.
Chapter 20
It had been a long time since Soren had sat at Pentreath’s dining table and enjoyed a meal, if ever.
Certainly, he couldn’t remember laughing. The unhappiness and dissatisfaction of the house’s occupants—his mother’s, his father’s, even his own—had made the air in the room almost impossible to breathe. It had not been a happy house, or childhood, he realized.
He’d wanted something different for his son. Instinctively, he’d known he would need a wife who could help him reclaim all that had once been good at Pentreath—and he’d found her.
Yes, he’d gone after Cassandra because it would take her money to save Pentreath. However, he realized he’d also been searching for her quiet dignity and her grace. She would help guide Logan through Society because she had navigated those same treacherous waters herself and survived.
His wife appeared radiant as she sat at the table with Logan between them.
Their declarations of love, spoken from their hearts, seemed to have freed her. Or perhaps it was the unburdening of her secret. Hiding her jewels did not seem a bad action to Soren. He considered it rather wise.
That she’d felt guilt was to him a testimony to her character.
And he was well pleased with his choice of a wife.
She wore the garnets at the table along with the pearl on its ribbon. However, for his tastes, what he liked best was the way the candlelight reflected off the gold wedding band he had given her. He’d purchased it with money he could not afford to spend, and yet he had never made a better investment.
The servants did not act as if it was strange for his mother not to be present. Who knew what the attitude between his parents had been when he’d lived in Canada. He’d overheard whispers. Apparently, after he was sent to his uncle’s, his father had spent most of his time living in the village with Deborah. No wonder his mother was bitter. And yet Soren could not let her bile spread to his small family.
Logan ate his weight in roast mutton, potatoes, peas, and carrots. It was as if he’d not eaten the plate of sandwiches earlier. Soren was pleased that he was using a fork. There had been a time when Logan had defiantly eaten with his hands. Or perhaps he was trying to impress Cassandra. Either way, this was a good sign.
