Page 121 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

“That’s a serious allegation, Jethro.”

“I don’t think my father is used to being crossed.”

“Neither are you,” Cassandra said with a playful grin.

He wanted to refute her words, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. He did not care to have his wife drawing similarities between him and his father, though to judge by her smile, it did not appear to bother her.

Jethro gazed at Cassandra, wondering what she thought of it all. He had told her everything—except how he felt about her.

Why hadn’t he confessed his feelings to her before? To do so now, when he had nothing to offer her, would seem like an act of desperation.

And he was desperate. He would beg, if needed, to persuade her to stay.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For the shame of my birth, and for failing to provide for you as I promised. I don’t know how my business will ever recover—”

“Where is your faith, Mr Hunt? God has spared your life, so he must have plans for you. We will survive this setback—together.”

“Is that what you desire, Cassandra? To face it together? I understand it if you want a separation. I can’t expect you to share my shame, my loss, but—”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Jethro. I may have married you to provide a roof over my head, but I promised to love you for better or worse, for richer, for poorer—until death us do part, and that’s what I intend to do. It matters not a jot who your parents are, or how wealthy you are. I vowed to love you—and I do.”

She gazed into his eyes, a shy smile lurking on her lips. “I love you.”

Jethro’s mouth dropped open. She loved him. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but he seemed to have lost all ability to form words.

It was too wonderful. He didn’t deserve it. He was shaken—humbled—that now, when he had nothing left to give her, she declared her love for him.

Her bottom lip quivered as he continued to stare in wonder, behaving like a moonstruck youth. He thought she’d never looked more beautiful—her eyes glowing, her hair escaping from its pins and falling over her shoulders, and a rosy glow on her soot-smudged cheeks.

His heart was so full of love for Cassandra that he was unsure where to start. He’d never tried to put his feelings into words before.

“I don’t know what to say—”

Jethro broke off as the butler entered the room, but not before he’d noticed the glow in Cassandra’s eyes fade. Bother. He was making a mess of it again.

“What is it, Rowson?”

“Mr Wade has called and is most eager to see you.”

Jethro scowled. The interruption could not be worse timed. “Not today.” Not any day. He never wanted to face Mr Wade again.

Rowson bowed and withdrew to convey his message.

Jethro turned back to his wife, to continue what he was saying, but her brow was furrowed with disapproval.

“Won’t you even see your father?”

“No! We’re talking about the man who ruined my mother.”

“He’s also been supporting you your whole life.”

“Wait—you don’t think I should let him help me, do you?”

Cassandra tilted her head to one side. “No—and yes. You’ve refused Mr Wade’s assistance once, and I understand all the reasons you did so, but I wish you’d grant him a chance. Papa failed to provide for me, and it tortured his last hours. Your refusal of your father’s help will have hurt his pride—as much as accepting his help would injure yours. It is so much easier to give than to receive.”

Her words pricked his conscience. “Are you suggesting it’s my wretched pride that is stopping me from receiving his assistance? Have you forgotten the shame it would bring on you and Mr Wade’s wife if he acknowledged me as his son?”

“I have not forgotten, but I think the person who would be most hurt by Mr Wade making your relationship public is you.”