“Nothing, really. I asked her how she got my seal. She told me she had one made from a letter our uncle had sent to her father years ago. Pretty ingenious if truth be told.” He took another sip of brandy. “I told her to send me the seal. I instructed her not to use it again.” He remembered the expression of utter defeat that had made her normal peach tones turn almost pasty in color. “She looked devastated.”
Will shook his head. “Whatever they’re spending the money on, it’s not fashions. Miss Faith’s dress was threadbare and several seasons out of fashion.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “On our way back to rejoin you in the study, Miss Faith asked if I minded if she took the last tart from the tea service for her brother.”
He pressed his eyes shut. To think they didn’t have enough food made him want to pound a wall. He should have done more for the Lawson family when he first discovered he was responsible for the trusts.
“Do you think your little embezzler is spending it on herself?” Baffled, William stared at him.
“Not likely. Her clothes were in worse shape than her sister’s was. There were several spots on the elbows that appeared to have been patched from underneath.” He released a breath of frustration. “Perhaps their circumstances are as dire as their clothing appears to be.”
“There’s only one way to find out. You or I could take a trip to Leyton and see exactly what the situation is at Lawson Court,” William suggested.
“I better make the effort as I’m responsible for the Lawson sisters’ dowries. I’ll visit tomorrow.” McCalpin released a breath he had not been aware he was holding. “Miss Lawson said she used part of the money to buy a new shearing tool.”
“Your little embezzler shears sheep? My, my, a woman of hidden talents. I imagine she probably possesses a depth of farming knowledge that would make an ingénue call for the smelling salts. If you change your mind and want company, just send word to Langham Hall. I’m going out tonight with Mother and Father to some dinner. Are you coming?” Will stood to take his leave.
“No. Nevertheless, do pay attention. You know how father is. He’ll want to discuss everything in detail the next time we all gather to have dinner. The man thrives on politics.”
William propelled himself away from the blue velvet chair and swept a hand through his hair. “McCalpin, I hate listening to political dribble. You’re the one who enjoys it and gets everyone to listen to your arguments. Your talent for finding common ground between your adversaries is becoming renowned.”
He enjoyed politics as much as his father did. However, he walked a fine line in such discussions. Any talk that spiraled into conversations about revenues, taxes, or money made his head spin.
“At next week’s family dinner, Father is going to discuss you taking a seat in the House of Commons.” Will eyed him warily. “You’re forewarned, brother. Your reward for the way you handle people. ‘A natural-born politician’ is what father calls you.”
McCalpin’s indignant arched eyebrow melted, and he loudly exhaled. His so-called talent was simply a ruse to keep his weaknesses hidden.
“I’ll do anything to help you. You know that,” William offered.
His brother’s simple words conjured up a long-ago memory that never ceased to haunt McCalpin.
He would steal away into the nursery and laboriously work on his numbers. Sitting for hours, he tried to win the battle of learning to add and subtract correctly. One day, William had completed an assignment within a half-hour, and his reward was an extended riding lesson.
Finding the task almost impossible, McCalpin had refused to cry in front of anyone. After several hours alone, he let the tears slip free. The hot splashes fell to the paper, causing the ink to run like black rivers and ruining his work. He’d worked all morning and had only completed half of the assignment.
His governess Mrs. Ivers hated him for his inability to do the calculations. When she found him staring at a page of incomprehensible scribblings, she’d taken a ruler to his knuckles.
“Your father would be better served if you were locked away in some remote tower on one of his lesser estates.” Her haughty voice paralyzed him, and he couldn’t move or protest. “I should tell His Grace that his precious heir is nothing more than a dullard incapable of counting his monthly allowance.”
She’d broken the skin of his knuckles, and pain seared a path across his hand. However, he vowed not to flinch—he’d not give her the satisfaction.
She struck him again and sneered. “If you can’t master these simple tasks, you’ll never learn your multiplication tables much less how to manage the duchy. You’ll be the Duke of Langham in name only. Someone else will be pulling your strings and running the duchy.”
She raised the ruler once again. He closed his eyes hoping it would lessen the stinging torment. The familiar whiz of air hissed as the ruler flew through the air, and he tightened his gut in readiness.
But the piercing pain never occurred.
A small wee hand covered his.
When he opened his eyes, William stood between them.
“That is the last time you hit my brother.” The quiet determination on William’s face made him appear years older than seven. “When I tell our father you’ve struck the marquess, I have little doubt you’ll be looking for a new position this afternoon.”
Incredulous, Mrs. Ivers’ mouth gaped open. Without another word, she spun on her heel and ran from the room.
As if nothing evil had happened, William placed an orange before him. “Riding lessons aren’t any fun if you’re not there.”
McCalpin laid his head on his arms to hide the tears that now streamed down his face. Once under control, he wiped his eyes. There was nothing to hide as they both knew he couldn’t do his assignments. “You shouldn’t have done that. What if she turns her ire on you?”
“She won’t be here.” William had peeled the orange and had placed the fruit before McCalpin. “I’ll never let you suffer like that again. From now on, I’ll always be by your side.”
The memory of his brother’s staunch defense that day still had the power to make McCalpin’s throat tighten.
“You’re not going to like what I have to say, but”—William’s deep tenor brought him out of his reverie—“perhaps you should think about marrying someone with enough intelligence and interest in politics that she could help you.”
“A wife?” McCalpin clenched the brandy, but thankfully the leaded glass didn’t shatter. “And how shall I go about finding this paragon? Take out an ad in The Midnight Cryer? ‘Ducal heir who can’t add two numbers seeks a diamond of the first water with implicit deportment, political savvy, and the analytical skills of an advanced mathematician as his future duchess.’”
William strode to the settee in front of the fireplace and sat with a dejected plop. “I’m not trying to start a fight.”
“Are you tiring of our arrangement, Will?” A knot rose in McCalpin’s throat.
“Absolutely not. I’ll always help you.” William rose to face him. “A wife would be a helpmate with all the trappings that comes with being the Marchioness of McCalpin.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “One day you’ll be the Duke of Langham. The perfect duchess would make your life not only more pleasant, but she could help you shoulder the responsibility.”
William had always been McCalpin’s best friend and greatest champion. Whatever was of interest to McCalpin always became a shared interest with William. When they were growing up, his younger brother always followed him around, mimicking his movements. William had made their childhood a fond memory. Time after time, they shared adventures with the accompanying scrapes and bruises.
William had never displayed or hinted that he envied it was McCalpin and not him who was their father’s heir. Their travails in the classroom under the tutelage of Mr. Maxwell were only bearable because of William. He always helped McCalpin in his assignments and never tormented him over his difficulties.
Neither did Mr. Maxwe
ll. When reports were required of the boys’ and Emma’s progress, the tutor had focused on the areas where McCalpin excelled—languages, literature, and logic.
The kind tutor had been one of the most influential people in McCalpin’s early life. When he’d struggled with a lesson, Mr. Maxwell had patiently sat and broken the problem into several tasks that made it easier for him to understand. They’d practiced the more difficult ones repeatedly. The tutor had once confided his younger sister found reading as difficult as McCalpin’s constant struggles with numbers. The learning strategies he’d developed for her were ones he applied to McCalpin, and it resulted in one of the few times in McCalpin’s life he didn’t feel as if he needed to hide his shortcomings.
What he wouldn’t give to find that type of peace again.
With a steadying breath, McCalpin made the only decision a loyal brother could reach. “Thank you for your advice. I always thought I’d marry someday, but perhaps I should give it more consideration.”
William’s audible sigh of relief filled the room. “That’s wise. Father told me that Aunt Stella is leaving me her estate in Northumberland. Our parents think I should start to spend some time with her.” William shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable, then stood. “Let me know about Leyton, will you?”
“Will”—McCalpin lowered his voice—“a moment, please.”
William nodded, but a new uncertainty had crept into his expression.
“I know you’re sacrificing your own happiness by helping me. I’ll not forget it. All my personal investments are to go to you. Russell has drawn up the documents, and Somerton knows my wishes also.”
“God, I hate it when you talk like this. I’m your brother, and I love you. It’s not a job. It’s what family does for one another.” William’s familiar lopsided grin made an impromptu appearance. “I’m curious. What are you going to do with Miss Lawson’s one-thousand-pound withdrawal?”
McCalpin hesitated. Like a thief, disquiet stole into his thoughts. “Give it to her, but no more. When I see her, I’ll tell her it’s the last monies she’ll receive without my personal approval first.”
Will nodded.
Immediately, his thoughts retuned to the lovely Miss Lawson and her penchant to consider her trust as nothing more than her own personal bank. No matter what, he’d not let anyone take advantage of him and his weakness.
Chapter Five
March leaned back in her chair and stretched. The stiffness in her neck was a painful reminder she had failed to move in over two hours as she balanced the household accounts. How could they spend so much money while everything was falling apart around them? Regardless, she needed the accounts to be in perfect shape when the marquess wanted to review the estate and its financials. She clung to the belief he’d help them; otherwise, she didn’t think she could survive another year of such dire circumstances.
Julia squeezed through the crack in the open door. “Cousin Rupert is here and demands to see you.”
Her sister’s evasive action didn’t stop the man from barging into the study. Rupert Lawson examined the contents of the room, taking particular notice of a valuable small painting above the desk behind her, the crystal inkwell that had been a gift of some foreign dignitary, and the sterling silver tea set on the desk. By the arrogant smirk, he must have been pleased with his accounting.
Rupert still smarted over the fact that her brother, Bennett, was Lord Lawson while he remained a simple “mister.” However, as Rupert’s father was the younger brother of her father, March tolerated his visits.
A pallid ghost of a smile lined Rupert’s face. “March, bad form to keep me waiting. Why is that lovely creature Julia answering the door? You should invest in a footman.”
The man’s voice could clear vultures from a fresh kill.
“Julia, thank you. Will you see if Bennett needs help with his lessons?” She didn’t want her sister within ten feet of him. She already knew the gist the conversation would take this afternoon. March would fend off an offer for Julia’s hand while Rupert belittled her and the rest of her family.
He fought to remove the leather gloves from his pudgy hands. His body had grown corpulent over the years, including his swollen head. Granted, he had once been handsome, but his taste for spirits and extravagant dinners had taken a toll on his features, and his waist had thickened.
“Cousin, where are your manners? Oh, the thought escaped me. You don’t have any. Your parents spent too much time in New York.” Using an ebony cane for support, he squeezed his hefty body into the chair beside the desk. “I’ll take a glass of brandy. The wind is quite wicked this morning.”
Her cousin’s appearance would make doing the household ledger appealing, but the best course of action was to finish this interview. “I could offer you tea.”
A triumphant smile spread across his mouth that caused his red cheeks to congeal in round circles. His eyes squeezed shut much like a rat with a delectable morsel. “Times that bad, eh? Do yourself and your family a favor. Let me take care of you.”
March rose from the desk and walked to the fireplace. It would take little effort to kick his chair over and watch as his arms and legs flailed like a beetle trying to turn over when it had landed on its back. Pleasure at such an image allowed her to answer his question with an even temper.
“That’s not necessary. We have everything we need.” She tilted her head and forced a smile, though he deserved a sneer.
His cane wobbled as he rose from the chair. “I’ve observed your spending habits in the village. You have no money.” With a deep sigh, he placed his beaver hat upon his head.
March thanked the merciful heavens for small miracles. He was leaving. She kept her hands busy and tended the small fire. “Thank you for your visit.” She didn’t dare turn, for fear he’d stay longer.
“You really have no other alternatives. No one wants you or your crippled sister. Now Julia”—he fought to take a deep breath and wheezed—“would make a fine match with a local farmer or perhaps a younger son of a local gentry’s family. However, being foremost a good man and head of this family, I intend to marry her. I’ll not let you and Faith starve. Bennett needs a man’s influence. The boy must learn how to carry himself.”
“How kind of you to offer,” she demurred. “But we’ve gone over this before. There’s no use in rehashing old arguments. My sisters shall have a Season in London before they marry.”
“What nonsense! You’re just wasting money you don’t possess. Let me marry Julia, and I’ll see you and your sisters are welcomed into society with open arms.” He walked to the door and turned. “I’ll come to dinner on Sunday. We can discuss it in more detail then. Oh, by the way, I’m running the hounds over Lawson Court’s acreage in next week’s hunt. In exchange for the courtesy, I’ll present the foxtail to Faith after church. It’d be a high honor.”
“Pompous, cruel arse,” March whispered. White-hot anger lit a fire through her veins. Her cousin’s only purpose was to humiliate Faith publicly with his cruel deed. Just another attack in his war to win Julia’s hand. No doubt, the Marquess of McCalpin’s signature and wax seal might come into use when she dealt with the odious Rupert Lawson.
Tonight, she’d write a letter forbidding Rupert from trespassing at Lawson Court. It would be her last act with the marquess’s seal before she sent it to him. Even if the marquess wasn’t currently responsible for the estate, he had a vested interest in her family. He’d not allow Rupert to hunt on the property.
Without waiting for her response, he continued, “Did I mention that the north pasture wall has fallen? Your sheep looked to be escaping.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” March dropped the fire iron and whirled to face him, but he’d left the room. For such a large man, he moved incredibly fast. “Because, no doubt, you probably caused the damage,” she whispered to no one.
She pushed a stray lock of hair from her face as she raced to the entry of the house. They couldn’t afford to lose a singl
e sheep. She had counted on that wool this spring to pay for part of the estate expenses.
She struggled to free her cloak, hat, and gloves from the hook by the front door. “Bennett, come quickly.”
Book in hand, her brother bounded down the steps. “What is it?”
“The sheep are free in the north pasture. I need your help bringing them back. Do you know where Hart is?”
Bennett shook his head. “He left early this morning.”
Without waiting for her brother, she flew down the drive. Bennett would follow immediately. When they reached the pasture, the scene before them was utter chaos. Sheep streamed through the fallen rocks of the wall as if invited by the Prince Regent himself to an outing. Some of the animals stood within feet of the opening chewing grass, while the more adventuresome had roamed into the furrowed field beside the north pasture.
Both she and Bennett made quick work of herding the animals back into their own pasture. Their sheepdog performed marvelously as he nipped the hind legs of the most rebellious rams and ewes, forcing them farther back into the field away from the fallen rock.
With Bennett’s help, she stacked enough stone back into place so that the sheep would have to jump if they wanted to escape again. It wasn’t a permanent fix to the problem, but that would have to make do.
“Let’s see if we can move this one.” March waited for her brother to heft one side of a particularly large rock. “If we can manage this one, it’ll keep the opening closed until Hart can repair it properly.”
Bennett nodded and took a deep breath. His arms surrounded one end of the rock, and she took the other side. On the count of three, they hoisted the limestone mass. He stumbled under the weight, and the stone shifted toward March. She managed to step away before the rock smashed her boots, but a sharp edge ripped through the glove on her left hand.
“March, I’m sorry.…” Bennett’s eyes widened, and his lower lipped trembled.
She glanced at all the red that bubbled through the rip in her glove. Once through, the blood flowed fast like a raging river in a flood. Time stood still, and she was unable to think of anything else as she waited for the pain to catch up with her thoughts. The throbbing sensation finally slammed through her hand. “Go get help,” she whispered.
The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses Page 6