“You would use your own funds for these repairs and debts?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Lord Burns didn’t provide any monies last year. When he died, there was no one to give me money for the estate management. I have no other choice than to pay for it myself until I can choose a guardian for the estate.” She clasped her fingers together in a desperate attempt to gain control over her anger. “As there is no guardian to say otherwise, I’m opening our family townhouse this spring and will move my sisters and brother to London for the Season. My sisters are of such an age they should take their rightful place in society. Bennett, my little brother, inherited my father’s title and should experience the educational offerings only London can provide. Since you, sir, are in charge of my sisters’ monies also, I hope they aren’t prey to the same sort of mistakes rampant through my documents.”
A brief scowl shadowed Lord McCalpin’s face, and his lips thinned in displeasure. “If what you say is true, then I readily agree your situation warrants immediate attention. Allow me the opportunity of seeing the estate for myself. Is that too much to ask?”
He ran a hand down the length of his face. The effort seemed to eliminate some of his anger.
“Let me evaluate your requests for tenant repairs and the estate’s debts. The idea of bringing your family to London isn’t to be taken lightly. It’s a massive undertaking. That’s all I can promise today.”
“Sir, I’m not asking you to take over the estate. I’m asking for—”
Lord William placed several letters on the desk. March’s heart stopped mid-beat when she saw her forged requests for funds. Bile scourged her throat as her face heated with humiliation.
She could face anything except for the marquess’s beratement in front of Faith and Hart. For her shame to be made public to her family was a burden she didn’t think she could bear. McCalpin reached for the letters. Without a second thought, she placed her hand over his, a completely inappropriate gesture hidden from Faith and Hart. It made little difference at this point. He would ruin her if she didn’t stop him.
“Please, not in front of them,” she whispered, the words so faint she wasn’t certain she’d said them.
He continued to pull the documents toward him, but regarded her. It had to have been her imagination, but his eyes seemed to soften. She almost missed the slight dip of his chin in acknowledgment. His gaze went to his brother. Silently, they communicated with one another, and Lord William stood and walked to her sister and Hart.
“Miss Faith, there’s a lovely portrait of my late uncle, the previous Duke of Langham. When he was the Marquess of McCalpin, I understand he became a close friend of your father’s. May I show it to you? He was a handsome fellow. People say I favor him, and I’d like your opinion.”
Faith reluctantly nodded, and Hart rose to join them. Protective, he wouldn’t allow Faith to wander off with the young aristocrat without his presence. The trio left the room, and she found herself alone with the marquess. She sat back down in the chair and waited for her sentence.
* * *
“Do you know what these documents are?” McCalpin asked. By the absolute defeated expression on Miss Lawson’s face, he had his answer.
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“Did you forge my signature?”
She nodded gently, and a thick wave of dark brown—almost black—hair escaped from her simple chignon.
He regarded her carefully. Their earlier conversation had grown quite heated. What type of woman would dare impersonate him? One who must have spent hours practicing his signature. She had used his identity and his standing in society for her own purposes. Impersonating a noble was a high crime, and she’d done it anyway.
She wasn’t a classic English beauty by any means. She was more exotic in her looks. Her brown eyes sparkled with intelligence. Before he’d shown her the forged withdrawals, he’d found her stalwart confidence intriguing. He’d even found her earlier awkwardness over their second greeting charming.
Through it all, his title or wealth didn’t faze her. She only saw him as a stumbling block. Truth be told, he enjoyed going toe-to-toe with her. The rapier-quick retorts and bold challenges were refreshing.
“How did you get my seal?” he gently asked.
“My father kept all of your uncle’s letters. I found an intact wax seal of the Marquess of McCalpin and took it to a family friend who’s a retired engraver, and he made it for me.” She stared at her clasped hands and refused to look at him. “I kept your first letter of introduction as our new trustee. I used it to practice your signature.”
Her face had turned scarlet red. She was mortified. Instead of pleased that he’d received her confession, McCalpin hated that he made her feel such embarrassment. However, it was his responsibility to protect the family’s funds.
“Have you used it for anything besides withdrawals from your trust?” he asked.
She stiffened at the question, but managed to stare into his eyes. She shook her head. “Never. I would never harm you or my family. I only did it for my…”
What could his little embezzler possibly say to justify her behavior?
“We needed new shears, or I couldn’t finish shearing the sheep. I need to sell that wool to cover our household expenses.” His lips trembled for a moment before she continued. “The estate isn’t profitable.”
He gazed at her in disbelief. “You shear the sheep on the estate?”
“Yes. Hart helps if he’s at Lawson Court, but he travels frequently. Besides, I’m faster than he is and can shear two sheep to his one.” When she swallowed, the movement emphasized her long neck.
He collapsed in his chair and stared at the woman. It was inconceivable what she was claiming. She was the daughter of a well-respected member of the nobility.
“I understand how trite this must sound, but I’m truly sorry I used your identity.” Her eyes dipped to her lap. Whatever she studied must have given her courage since she soon met his gaze. “Lord Burns had control over Lawson Court and was never generous.” She drew a deep breath. “For the past several years, he didn’t see fit to give us much money. When I learned he’d passed, I wrote to you as the successor—”
Buxton entered the room. “I beg your pardon, my lord. Lord and Lady Pembrooke have arrived.”
After a slight nod to the butler, McCalpin’s attention returned to the woman seated in front of him. “Miss Lawson, the hour grows late, and I have other duties that demand my attention. I’ll visit Lawson Court as soon as possible. I trust we’re in agreement that you’re not to write any more requests using my seal.”
“But—”
He wouldn’t let her have a word edgewise. “Immediately, I think it best that you have someone deliver your copy of my seal to me. You’ll find I’m generous to a fault, but I won’t tolerate foolishness or any more of your shenanigans. If you or your family needs something, I invite you to come and seek my advice. I won’t turn down any reasonable requests.”
“Is it possible I could have some money now?” She exhaled as if the weight of the world had been set on her shoulders. “You see I need—”
“From what I’ve learned today, I think it best if any disbursements wait until I have the opportunity to review the estate and learn more about you and your family.” He lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Her eyes glistened with tears.
Oh God, he’d done it. He’d made her cry.
“Miss Lawson, there’s no harm done,” he said quietly. “The amounts you took were miniscule. When I visit, I’ll see what repairs are required. That’s all I can offer at this point. You shouldn’t spend your money on the estate. Your father wanted you or your husband to have it.”
She nodded once, then stood. Without any farewell, she turned and left the room.
In his twenty-nine years, he’d accumulated his fair share of experiences with women of all ages and personalities. Never once did he ever remember bringing one to tears.
It was something he hoped never to experience again.
He felt lower than the mud in a carriage rut.
* * *
Lord McCalpin had issued his dismissal, and March couldn’t wait to escape. Tears welled in her eyes at his denial of her request. She should have argued more but her pride had stopped her. They were in desperate need of wood and food at Lawson Court. Now, she had no way to get any funds. To wait another year felt like a lifetime. Decorum wouldn’t feed her family, but it kept her from falling into a ball and weeping for the rest of the day. Even that selfish luxury was out of her reach. She still had to muck the barn and repair the plow horses’ tack.
She spun toward the exit, determined to gather Faith and Hart as quickly as possible. She walked with as much dignity as she could muster as she left the marquess’s presence. When she entered the vestibule, a handsome couple looked her way.
The auburn-haired woman held a bundled baby close to her chest, and her beautiful face glowed with happiness. She reached up on tiptoes to whisper something to her equally handsome husband. He laughed and wrapped an arm about her waist to pull her close. His finger traced a gentle line down the baby’s cheek.
March’s humiliation slightly melted at the sight of two people so obviously in love and delighted with their infant. She had always envisioned such a life for herself—a loving husband and a family of her own. Now, that dream was what she wanted for Faith and Julia—a love, strong and true.
The woman smiled as if she and March were dear friends. Suddenly, the woman started toward her as if she wanted to address her, so March stopped and waited.
The woman’s happiness seemed to light her from within and grew in vibrancy the closer she got. With no warning, she rushed passed without a second look in March’s direction and called, “McCalpin, you’re home!”
Heat flamed her cheeks again. She’d mistaken the friendly gesture for herself. Trying not to draw attention, she watched the group’s exchange.
The marquess greeted the couple with a warm embrace to the woman and a handshake to her husband. “What mischief did you and Pembrooke bring me today?” McCalpin’s voice echoed with true affection as he peeked at the baby and smiled. “William is roaming the halls somewhere. He’ll be delighted to see you, too.”
Aware that she was rudely staring, March turned her attention to Faith and Hart, who had joined her to watch the happy reunion. “I’m ready,” she whispered.
“Lord and Lady Pembrooke, may I introduce Miss March Lawson, Miss Faith Lawson, and Mr. Victor Hart.” Lord McCalpin’s voice was matter-of-fact.
March turned and greeted the couple.
“It’s a pleasure to meet one of McCalpin’s elusive friends,” Lady Pembrooke said.
March lost the ability to speak for a moment. No one could ever mistake her as his friend. “My lady, I’ve never met Lord McCalpin before today.”
“Fortune smiles on all of us then.” Lady Pembrooke didn’t hide the merriment from her eyes. “Do you live in London?”
“Miss Lawson is here on a business matter. She resides in Leyton. Her younger brother is the young viscount, Lord Lawson.” McCalpin stealthy sidled next to March and addressed Lord and Lady Pembrooke. “Will you wait for me in my study? I’ll only be a moment.”
With her husband by her side, Lady Pembrooke ignored the marquess and stood closer to March. “I have friends in Leyton. Mr. Roger Jordon and his niece Miss Lucy Porter? Do you know them?”
March nodded. “Mr. Jordon is kindly teaching my brother chess.”
A dazzling smile lit Lady Pembrooke’s face. “I visit them quite often. The next time I’m in town, perhaps you’d join us for tea. You must bring Miss Faith also.”
“Thank you, my lady. We’d be delighted,” she answered.
Lord William joined them and held out his hands. “There’s my namesake. The rascal is growing more handsome every day.” It became apparent he had little experience with babies as he took the infant in a fumbling embrace.
Without thinking, March rushed forward and placed her hand under the baby’s head. “You must cradle him close.” She kept her voice soft as the infant was sleeping. “He doesn’t have the strength yet to support his own head.”
The group turned and stared at her as if she’d grown horns on her head. She swallowed, hoping to stave off another round of mortifying flushes. “I … I apologize for my forwardness.”
“No need to apologize, Miss Lawson.” Lady Pembrooke shook her head. “Liam does need the support. I was about to take him from William’s clumsy hands.”
“You wound me, cousin.” Lord William cradled the baby close to his body and hummed something in a deep tenor.
“Have you had much experience with infants, Miss Lawson?” McCalpin peered intently at her.
“I’ve been responsible for my brother since he was one,” she whispered, always mindful of a sleeping infant. She glanced at Lady Pembrooke. “I won’t keep you any longer, my lady. Good day, Lord Pembrooke.”
The Marquess of McCalpin turned toward her, but she didn’t bother to extend her hand or wait for a good-bye greeting. She nodded at Faith, and the trio exited the hall for the entry.
The faster she could leave, the less chance she’d say something she’d regret. How in the world had she ever looked upon him as Michelangelo’s David?
He was more like the devil with donkey ears.
* * *
McCalpin escorted the Lawson sisters and Mr. Hart to the front door. March refused to look in his direction as she took her leave while Miss Faith just nodded her farewell.
As he watched the trio make their way to the street, McCalpin’s gaze narrowed on March’s back. When he’d asked her about the forgery, her humiliation had caused her cheeks to darken to a deep pink. He’d immediately recognized her as a kindred spirit, since he understood her embarrassment.
He experienced paralyzing shame every time he believed someone would uncover his utter stupidity when it came to numbers. Always on the verge, he felt it every waking hour—always speculating if today would be his downfall, the day he failed in his duty.
McCalpin exhaled a painful sigh. If he’d been more diligent, perhaps he’d have caught her forgeries immediately and saved them all the extra effort and heartache. Now, he had to put more work on William’s shoulders with the Lawson family affairs.
Miss Lawson’s dismissal without a word made him grin. The young woman was obviously uncomfortable around him. However, no one would ever describe her as missish with the intent to get her way through flattery. Tall with beautiful dark brown hair and matching coppery brown eyes that flashed like molten gold when challenged, she would do very well in society. Men would no doubt flock around her.
He chuckled at her claim she could shear a sheep. He’d pay money to behold such a sight. More importantly, her audacity to come into his house and demand money intrigued him. For some absurd reason, he wanted to find out more about the woman. Unlike others, she didn’t seem impressed with him or his title, a refreshing rare event these days.
Buxton silently stood beside him. He lifted his eyebrows and watched the guests leave. “My lord, I had the kitchen prepare one of my famous tea services, much like the one you and Lord William can never finish. Your guests ate every bite. Very unusual for ladies to indulge so freely.”
“Perhaps the hour-long trip from Leyton gave them a ravenous hunger,” McCalpin answered.
Buxton clasped his hands in front of him and continued his watch as the trio climbed into a pony cart. “Indeed. I’d hate to think they hadn’t had a proper meal before arriving.”
Chapter Four
After the Pembroke family left, McCalpin and his brother returned to work. Several hours later, they’d finished a review of the estates’ monthly budgets, and McCalpin had approved the plans for a renovation of the gardens at McCalpin Manor.
“Seems Lady Miranda has her sights on becoming your duchess.” William sat in the chair in front of McCalpin’s desk and took
a sip of brandy as he stretched out his legs. “Clever how her father is constantly inviting you to dinner.”
“A lot of good it will do. She can stand in line behind the others.” A wave of distaste rippled into a grimace. McCalpin hated society chits whose only thoughts centered on luring him into matrimony. He wanted to be the one to pursue his mate and future wife, not the other way around.
He had very specific criteria for a wife. He wanted someone who would support his political work, perform marvelously as a hostess, and be someone well respected by the ton. However, the lady in question must have a strong aptitude and interest in the management of his estate and the future duchy. He didn’t want just anyone prying into his business, but a wife, a life-long partner, whose values and talents would make his life all the easier.
“What did your little embezzler have to say for herself when you confronted her over the thousand-pound directive she’d forged?”
McCalpin took a swallow of the warmed spirit and let the liquor bathe his throat in a welcome relief that eliminated some of his weariness. Even with a fine glass of brandy, he dreaded to answer. “I didn’t ask her. It would have been unspeakably cruel since she practically melted into her chair with embarrassment when I offered proof of her other withdrawals.”
William took a deep breath and released an audible sigh. “Did Miss Lawson explain the smaller sums?”
McCalpin closed his eyes. All he could picture was March leaning over his desk with fire in her eyes insisting she was twenty-five. “Perhaps the smaller amounts were a test to see if I’d notice what was happening with the money. She claims the estate isn’t profitable. When you took Mr. Hart and Miss Faith Lawson on the tour of the house, did you discover anything?”
“Nothing of importance. Miss Faith is a starch defender of her sister. She did share that Miss March has been supervising the estate since she was sixteen.” He took another swallow of brandy. “I had a devil of a time keeping her with me. She insisted she return to her sister’s side.” Will rested his elbows on his knees and regarded him. “She seemed to think you would be rather harsh with her sister. What exactly did you do?”
The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses Page 5