Snowbound With The Baronet by Deborah Hale Page B

uneasy.
    Certainly she had not done what Mrs. Martin meant. She had never encouraged another gentleman during her courtship with Brandon—or since for that matter. She had been true to him but she had not been altogether truthful with him.
    Mrs. Martin’s pale ginger brows lowered in a look of puzzlement. “Then what on earth could you have done that would be so difficult to forgive?”
    Long habit tried to seal Cassandra’s lips on the subject. But her recent confessions to Brandon and their hostess had weakened her resolve to keep silent. Besides she needed to impress upon Mrs. Martin the futility of hoping for any sort of reconciliation with her former suitor. Otherwise, she feared their hostess might not be above a little innocent matchmaking.
    “I... rejected his proposal.” She hung her head knowing Mrs. Martin would think ill of her once she knew. “I refused after giving every indication that I cared for him and would be honored to accept.”
    “But why would you do such a thing, my dear?” Mrs. Martin did not sound reproachful, only bewildered and disappointed.
    That secret would require a great deal more effort to confess, though Cassandra sensed the stout wards upon it were beginning to weaken. “I had my reasons and I still believe they were sound ones. If we had wed, I feel certain our marriage would have been most unhappy. He would have come to despise me even more than he does now. At least this way I have the satisfaction of knowing I did the honorable thing... even if he believes otherwise.”
    Mrs. Martin reached across the table and patted her hand. “You believed you were doing what was best for him?”
    Cassandra raised her head and answered in a tone of perfect assurance. “I am certain of it.”
    “It could not have been easy, though, could it?” Mrs. Martin sounded regretful... even pitying. Yet an undertone of admiration made that pity bearable, the way a dose of sweet syrup made it possible to swallow foul-tasting medicine. “It must have cost you a good bit of heartache at the time and ever since.”
    Cassandra nodded. “It was a price I was willing to pay and I would again.”
    “I think you ought to tell Sir Brandon everything you’ve told me.” Mrs. Martin gave a resolute nod and refilled both their cups. “The poor man must assume you were trifling with his affections. He may have thought you didn’t care for him because he wasn’t worth caring for.”
    The thought appalled Cassandra. “Surely he cannot believe that!”
    He was the finest man she’d ever met. It had never crossed her mind that he could possibly think otherwise.
    Mrs. Martin gave a doubtful shrug. “Folk often don’t regard themselves as highly as others do. Why do you suppose he’s never found a wife since then?”
    Had her rejection affected him that badly? Cassandra did not want to believe it. “He served in Spain with General Wellington’s army and only returned a few months ago.”
    That perfectly reasonable explanation did not satisfy her sympathetic inquisitor. “Why do you reckon he joined the army in the first place?”
    “That had nothing to do with me!” It could not have... could it? The possibility distressed Cassandra in spite of her vigorous denial.
    “I wouldn’t be too sure,” Mrs. Martin shook her head. “At least not until you ask him outright.”
    Cassandra scrambled up from the table. Her face felt as if it were on fire. “I have no intention of asking him any such thing! That is all water under the bridge. No good can come of stirring it all up again.”
    But what if Mrs. Martin was right? What if she had driven Brandon to the perils of the battlefield just as she had driven him out into the storm today? In her desperation to protect him, had she only forced him into greater peril?
    “I do not mean to tell him about anything we have discussed just now,” she repeated for emphasis, “I must insist you treat it as a confidence and say nothing to Sir Brandon,