Snowbound With The Baronet by Deborah Hale Page A

and shake the selfish little ninny until her teeth rattled. “I tried to tell your cousin it would not be as easy an errand as you and he expected. I wish he had listened to me.”
    Miss Calvert smirked. “If you did not want him to go, you shouldn’t have opposed him so strenuously. I do believe your warnings only spurred Brandon’s determination to go.”
    Cassandra pressed her lips together to stifle a cowardly whimper. Imogene Calvert’s words confirmed her own worst fears. She should have remembered that opposition always strengthened Sir Brandon’s resolve. She should have moderated her response accordingly, giving him an opportunity to reconsider the idea on his own. Instead she had driven him out into the storm. In the process, she had destroyed the fragile truce between them that might have ripened into something even more cordial.
    She did not dare answer his cousin for fear of what she might say. Instead she glanced at the Martins’ mantel clock to discover how little time had passed since she’d last looked. Was there something wrong with the timepiece? Perhaps it needed winding.
    She hurried to the kitchen to ask Mrs. Martin, who shook her head. “Tobias winds that clock every night before bed and yesterday was no exception. The time only passes slowly for you because you’re fretting over the gentleman.”
    Cassandra opened her mouth to deny it but a shrewd look from the older woman warned her not to waste her breath.
    “Sit down, have a cup of tea and calm yourself,” Mrs. Martin ordered in a tone that sounded brisk, but not without sympathy. “I reckon the men will be back before long with no worse harm than a chill. They’re young and fit and Sir Brandon seems a great deal more capable than most gentlemen.”
    The instant the words were out of her mouth, she raised her fingers to her lips as if she wished to stuff them back in. “Begging your pardon, my lady! You’ve been such a help to me, I forgot myself.”
    “No offense taken.” Cassandra assured her, dropping onto a seat at the kitchen table. “I am acquainted with enough noblemen to know you are not wrong in your judgment. It is not Sir Brandon’s ability I question, only the severity of the conditions he faces.”
    She accepted a steaming cup of tea with a murmur of thanks, hoping that conversation with Mrs. Martin would prove a more effective distraction from her worries then her household chores had. She recalled how swiftly time had flown that morning when she and Brandon had talked and sipped tea in the darkened kitchen. Cassandra only wished she could have made it last longer.
    Mrs. Martin poured herself a cup of tea and sat down opposite Cassandra. “Whatever happened between you in the past, you’re still very partial to him, aren’t you?”
    Cassandra considered denying her feelings but sensed she would not be believed. She gave a brief nod only to discover how pleasant it felt to admit her long-concealed emotions.
    “I tried to stop for the sake of my peace of mind.” She sighed. “I persuaded myself I had. When I saw him again, it all came flooding back and I cannot seem to control it.”
    “Then don’t.” Mrs. Martin’s motherly sympathy was balm to Cassandra’s turbulent heart. “No good ever comes of trying to make yourself feel contrary to what your heart decides. What happened between the two of you, anyhow? Are you certain matters cannot be mended now that some time has passed?”
    “Quite certain!” Cassandra’s hand trembled as she raised her cup, spattering hot drops of tea over the rustic tabletop. She could not afford to hope such a thing might be possible. “I insulted and injured him in a manner I cannot expect him to forgive.”
    “Were you untrue?” Mrs. Martin sounded reluctant to pose such a personal question. Yet Cassandra knew she was asking out of more than idle curiosity.
    “Of course not!” Her denial rose instinctively. Yet once the words were out, her conscience grew