The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses

by Janna MacGregor

  Daphne sighed. “I did it last week. It’s your turn to go through that torture.”

  “Let me do it,” March offered. They both stared as if she’d grown another head and it was speaking. “I’ve been doing bookkeeping for years as a way of bartering for goods and services in Leyton. Besides, I love the figures and calculations.”

  As if the books were poisonous, Emma pushed them toward her with the tip of her index finger. “March, you don’t have to do it. Daphne’s right. It’s my turn, but if you want to take a look at how I prefer to keep the books, please be my guest.”

  March opened the first book. Neat columns of numbers with precise totals loomed before her. At the top, the familiar concepts of debits and credits were clearly marked. Listed down the pages were the clients’ names. Overall, it would take her perhaps an hour to finish the task. The bank’s own bookkeeping for rents, coal, and stationary needs were in the second book. That task would take no more than fifteen minutes.

  Without waiting for any encouragement, March took the books to the desk nearby, sharpened the quill, and dipped it in the iron gall ink. She found scratch paper and proceeded to her work. Forty-five minutes later, she stretched. After carefully checking that the ink was dry, she handed the books to Emma.

  “I found a couple of mistakes that I corrected. Mrs. Brown had an additional two pounds credited to her account that should have been assigned to Mrs. Havers’ account.” March pointed to Mrs. Brown’s column and Mrs. Havers’ column where she’d found the mistake. “Miss Marshall’s account shows she has ten pounds, but she’s overdrawn. Someone should probably tell the poor lady.”

  Emma scrutinized March’s work with lines across her delicate brow. “I can’t believe it took you less than an hour to have accomplished what would have taken me all afternoon.” She gazed at March. “Would you be willing to do this every time you’re here?”

  Her chest swelled with pride. It pleased her to no end that she could help her friend make the bank more successful. With accurate books, Emma would know exactly her reserve funds and how much she’d loaned in total every week, every month, and every year.

  “Emma, by the looks of things, you have an additional fifty pounds in reserves that hadn’t been recorded correctly. If you’d like, I could spend a day and review the books from the very beginning and catch the discrepancies, if there are any.”

  “This is brilliant,” Emma declared. “If you could do that, then I could deliver this baby without any distractions except Somerton. I was going to ask my father if his auditor could look at the books. I’ve been concerned the figures weren’t correct.” She gracefully stood. “Now, let’s settle on payment, shall we?”

  A flush of heat bludgeoned her cheeks. It was one thing to barter for her services, but another to be paid wages. “I can’t take your money. I want to help.”

  “Nonsense,” Daphne added.

  March turned to her. “May I ask if you receive payment for your services?”

  Daphne’s brows drew together as she considered the question. “No. I’m family. Well, practically family,” she clarified. “Since Alex is married to Claire.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right if I accepted money from you. Not after everything you and your family have done for mine.” March smiled and hoped that it would convince her friend to drop the subject.

  Emma cocked her head and stared out the window, completely lost in thought for a second. “You’d be family too if you married—”

  “It’s growing late. I should return to Langham Hall.” March gathered her things. It had been beyond the pale to interrupt her friend, but such nonsense would taint yesterday’s wonderful evening. It was her fondest memory, and she wanted it to stay as pure as a newly fallen snow. “The duchess thought Faith and Julia might have some visitors today.”

  Emma walked to the vault and pulled out a navy velvet bag. She returned to March’s side and gently took her hand before placing the bag in her outstretched palm. “Here’s your payment. The loan I made three months ago is forgiven.”

  “That’s too much for the little work I did,” March protested.

  Emma arched one delicate blond brow. “You’ll have to do my books for as long as you’re in London.” A hint of steel reinforced her normal dulcet voice. “Agreed?”

  March felt the familiar weight in the palm of her hand. To have the contents in her possession again was a sign she’d turned the tide in her quest to protect her family. Now, their lives were under their control again.

  Daphne had joined them by the vault. “May I see what’s in the bag? Emma’s described them to me before, but I’ve never seen them in person.”

  She gently upended the bag. Two earrings fell into her palm.

  Emma’s breath caught. “I forgot how beautiful they are.”

  Daphne’s eyes grew round. “Those are the largest sapphires I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  A hint of tears clouded the outline of the earrings. Even though it was unladylike, March sniffed. The effort made her errant tears subside. “They were my mother’s.”

  Daphne peered closer. “The pearls surrounding them appear pink in color.”

  “They are,” she answered. “My father had them made for my mother when I was born. He said the sapphires matched my mother’s eyes while the tiny pearls matched my complexion.”

  “There’s only one thing to do,” Emma announced. “We must go shopping for a dress that will set off these earrings.”

  Daphne’s eyes widened. “Emma! You hate to shop.”

  “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. We all suffer for the greater good. And whatever else generals say before leading the infantry into war.” Emma waved her hand as if dismissing the whole affair. “I want my brother to be spellbound when he sees you in those earrings.”

  “That’s very kind.” March cleared her throat. “But I don’t want to waste my money on another gown.”

  “Nonsense, March,” Emma commanded. “My brother will pay for it. Tell me, when is your next ball?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  All the way back to Langham Hall, March considered the shopping excursion with Emma and Daphne tomorrow as they hunted for the perfect gown to match her mother’s earrings. Her thoughts drifted to Michael as they usually did whenever she had a free moment. She wondered what his favorite color was. What other types of fabric did he like to caress with his hands? Last night, he stroked and petted her as if he couldn’t resist the feel of the soft velvet beneath his fingers.

  A footman silently opened the door, and March descended the steps of the Langham carriage that Pitts had insisted she take when she visited Emma’s bank.

  “Is that you, March?” a male voice called.

  Immediately she halted. She didn’t have to look as she recognized Rupert Lawson’s voice. Somehow, she’d lost her good fortune between the bank and Langham Hall. She glanced at the walk in front of the street and immediately pressed her eyes closed.

  Rupert stood ready to approach her, but she hurried toward him. Determined not to let him upset her sisters or force his company on the duke and duchess, she decided to greet him, then send him away.

  When she reached his bulky side, she nodded. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  His gaze swept the street as if taking notice whether anyone was around. “My my cousin, you’ve come up in this world. Langham Hall, no less. How did you manage to twist the Marquess of McCalpin to do your bidding?”

  “Is there something you need from me? Otherwise, I must go.” She tapped her foot in an attempt to quell her nervous energy. Every inch of her skin crawled in a desperate attempt to escape from him. “The duchess is waiting for me.”

  “Mustn’t keep the duchess cooling her heels.” His sly smile reminded her of a fox attempting to break into the henhouse. “I stopped by Lawson Court this morning. Everything appears in order. Your Hart is busy with those infernally bleating bags of wool. Filthy loathsome things.”

  “Thank you f
or your consideration.” She nodded and turned, but his hand shot out and twirled her until she faced him once again.

  “Mrs. Oliver said in your rush to leave Leyton, you left the viscount’s study a mess. Being the gentleman that I am, I offered to straighten it up for her.”

  Fear started to bloom like runaway weeds overtaking a garden. “What do you want?” she whispered.

  “This little escapade of having the Marquess of McCalpin named your guardian and supervising the estate’s money was beyond foolish. I told you that once I married Julia, I’d take care of everything. Now, you’ve complicated matters.”

  She stared wordlessly at him.

  “I will marry Julia,” he warned.

  Leaning close, his putrid breath assailed her. She turned her head and inhaled, allowing the cold air to wash away the stench of his breath.

  “Don’t you dare do anything to jeopardize my plans,” he growled. “Otherwise, you’ll not like the results, understand?”

  She took a step back to escape. Defiantly, she lifted her chin and regarded him. “You’ll have to discuss the matter with the marquess. He’s Julia’s guardian.”

  “I’m warning—” he commanded.

  “Warn away, Rupert.” As if preparing to defend herself, she clenched her fists. What she wouldn’t give to be able to knock him to his knees. “It’s out of my control.”

  “You leave me no choice, March. I’m sorry it’s come to this.” His calm voice carried through the cold air as if commenting on the weather.

  Shock caused her retort to wedge in her throat. He was threatening her; or worse, he was threatening her sisters.

  * * *

  McCalpin rode Donar to the entrance of Langham Hall and immediately halted. The sight before him sent his blood boiling. Naturally, March would have admirers. She was a lovely young woman, and any man with a lick of intelligence would be calling on her.

  It was a bloody inconvenient oversight on his part that he should have anticipated, but didn’t. He took a deep breath to quiet the jealously that burned through him. The effort failed completely, so he decided to do the next best thing. He threw the reins to a Langham groomsman and walked toward the couple. He’d do his damnedest to send the fellow on his way. He wanted to spend the afternoon with her. All under the guise that they’d discuss the upcoming events that March and her sisters would attend.

  His real purpose was to discuss the kiss and Lady Miranda. If Emma was correct, and that’s what had upset March last night, he’d dissuade her from worrying over the chit. Then they could perhaps take a walk through Langham Park. He’d like to show her a tree he’d planted as a boy, then perhaps steal another one of her sweet kisses as a memento of the day.

  When he reached her side, he understood this wasn’t a caller. Her back was ramrod straight and she was putting distance between herself and the stranger. The tension between the two was obvious.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Lawson.” In a move designed to allow her to feel safe, he stood close to her side. Why this man frightened her was something he needed to determine before he’d pound the blackguard into the ground. “Would you do the honors and introduce me?”

  She inched closer to him. Her slight movement caused his anger to roar as it gnashed and tore through him. When she had faced him in his study that first time, she’d never shown fear like this. Even with her injured hand and blood all over her, she never quivered as she did now.

  It took everything in his power not to push her behind him as he dealt with the miscreant before him.

  “My lord, this is my cousin, Mr. Rupert Lawson.” Her voice was faint, and when she glanced at him, stark, vivid alarm colored her expressive eyes.

  He slowly, but with all the haughtiness he possessed, ran his gaze over the corpulent misanthrope before him.

  “The Marquess of McCalpin,” she offered meekly to her cousin.

  The man bowed profusely. “My lord, an honor to meet you.”

  He nodded, but didn’t offer a response.

  The man’s eyes briefly narrowed. If McCalpin hadn’t been watching him so carefully, he might have missed the brief flash of hatred.

  “It’s a noble endeavor to accept the responsibility for the viscount and his sisters. As a loyal cousin from March’s father’s side, I’d be more than willing to handle the guardianship and the estate if you find … perhaps it’s more work than you’d expected.”

  The slight grin on his face made McCalpin angrier.

  “There’s no need, Mr. Lawson. I’m enjoying my newfound role with the Lawson family immensely. They’re truly lovely”—McCalpin gestured toward the mansion behind him—“and the duke and duchess are simply captivated by them all. I could never, nor would I want, to shirk my responsibilities.” He gently took March’s elbow in his hand. “Besides, I understand you’re Lord Lawson’s heir. Unseemly to put you in such a difficult position. Every transaction you’d approved for the viscount or on his estate’s behalf could be questioned.” He delivered a composed smile. “No need to thank me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re expected inside.”

  “My lord, it’s been a pleasure,” Lawson said. He turned to March. “Cousin, I shall call upon you again to continue our discussion.” He sketched something that looked like a bow, then strode away from them with his cane twirling in the air as if he were the happiest and most carefree man in all of London.

  March shivered, and McCalpin’s attention immediately switched from Lawson to her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “He’s despicable, but it’s all bluff.”

  “What did he want?” McCalpin watched Lawson until he disappeared.

  “Julia and our money,” March sighed. “I told him it was out of my hands, but he kept pressing that something dire would happen.”

  “Come with me.” McCalpin offered his elbow, and she took it immediately. The grasp of her hand around his arm was surprisingly strong, but her gait was weary and hesitant as if she couldn’t walk the short distance to the entrance. He wavered between strolling into the mansion like this or picking her up in his arms and carrying her in.

  “Ma belle embezzler, it’s over. He can’t hurt you or your family. Now, I need you to stay strong and walk in there of your own accord, or if your preference is something else, I’ll pick you up.”

  “Quit calling me that,” she protested.

  “What? Embezzler?” he teased.

  Her eyes widened in confusion. “Beautiful.”

  Tenderly, he whispered, “I don’t like to tell a falsehood. Now, if I had my choice, I’d carry you into the house.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. With an inherent determination, she straightened. “Thank you. I’m ready to walk in now.”

  There was her strong resolve he so admired. “I’m ready to kiss you now,” he whispered close to her ear.

  She bit her lip and glanced away.

  God, she was ravishing.

  An unbridled need swept through him like a wildfire to protect her from the ugliness that dared harm her or her family. Before he did something foolish like kiss her in the middle of the street, he squeezed her hand and led her to Langham Hall.

  Pitts opened the door, and after discarding their wraps and hats, McCalpin took March to the library.

  Once inside, he turned the lock to avoid any interruptions from the servants. Once he had her settled in front of the blazing fire, he poured two small glasses of brandy. He settled next to her and gave her the glass of spirits.

  “Drink it all.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her take a small sip. “More,” he growled, then took a large swallow of his own. She did as directed. The small act of concession caused a flicker of contentment to take root, pushing aside his remaining discontent over her dismay. She’d be her strong confident self in no time.

  He tilted the glass up and finished his own serving. He angled his body close to hers. “Better?”

  “Infinitely.” The fear had receded from her voice. She even of
fered him a smile, one that reminded him of last night when he’d held her in his arms.

  “I didn’t get the opportunity to ask last night, but where did you learn to dance?” An excellent dancer, she’d been warm and supple in his arms as he’d whisked her around the mezzanine. Her height matched his, making it easy to maneuver the steps. He leaned back and regarded her. “You’re quite accomplished.”

  Her cheeks burst into a rosy blush.

  Good lord! Somehow, such a simple response robbed him of his very breath.

  “That’s very kind. My mother and father taught me. Then they’d allowed me to practice by attending several small assemblies in Leyton. The wanted me to be ready for my Season.” She studied the glass in her hand. Gently, she placed it on the side table without making a sound.

  “Have you always been frightened of your cousin?”

  She shook her head, then lifted her gaze to his. The fire caught the flecks of gold in her warm eyes, making them flash with light. “Lately, he’s become bolder in his demands. He’s too old for Julia, and she’s too kind for him. I’m afraid he’d crush her spirit if they made a match.” Her low voice shook as she returned her gaze to the fire. “His indifference to Faith has turned into something quite cruel.”

  “How so?”

  She grew silent again, and the fire crackled as if encouraging her to continue. She appeared to be lost in her thoughts. He leaned close, and the movement drew her attention back to him.

  “March, I can’t protect your family if you don’t tell me more,” he coaxed.

  She rose from the chair with an inborn grace that enhanced the lush lines of her body. Her destination was the fireplace where she idly took the poker in hand and jabbed the logs. The flames shot higher. After she was apparently satisfied with her work, she faced him.

  “Leyton always has a hunt in early spring. Rupert had planned to present the prize of the foxtail to Faith. It would be unspeakably cruel, and it was a move to hurt not only her, but me.”

  Her shoulders had dropped as if she’d been defeated. With a sigh, she studied the grounds of Langham Park from the windows that lined the study’s far wall.