“Go on,” he gently insisted.
“My parents always hosted the hunt for the community. Faith normally trailed after me, but during the hunt one year, she didn’t. Caught up in the excitement, I didn’t bother looking for her. Yet something niggled my conscience, so I searched for her. She was chasing a pup in training for the hunt. As the dog wandered toward the pack, Faith followed, coaxing it away with a piece of bread. Before I could reach her, the Master of the Hunt had blown the horn, and the horses were off. Faith ran behind the hunters but one man lagged behind. He had difficulty controlling his mount. Faith ran in front of them.” Her voice softened until he could barely hear her. “The horse shied and reared up on its hind legs. Faith fell in the commotion, and the horse came down on its front legs.”
“So that’s how she was hurt,” he whispered. He rose and slowly crossed the distance between them. He clasped her hands, ice cold beneath his; he rubbed his thumbs across her palms.
She didn’t say anything for a long while, but her stoic face appeared ready to crack under the guilt, the type that tore souls in half. He’d seen and felt it before himself. The pain colored every aspect of one’s life. It took every ounce of self-control not to sweep her in his arms and protect her.
“I should have followed her. Because of my lack of regard, Faith suffered a broken leg and severe wounds caused by the horse’s shoe. She suffers every day because of my carelessness.” Her words were soft, but it didn’t hide her pain or the fact her actions haunted her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. More than she could ever imagine, he knew her pain and guilt. He lived with it every day also—the gnawing ache of doubting one’s own worthiness to exist in this world. Mrs. Ivers’ hateful words that he was unfit to be his father’s heir were still weapons of torture. The fact he was a simpleton who masqueraded as the heir to a mighty duke, one who loved him dearly, was a heavy burden that sometimes made him numb.
“I’m sorry also.” She dipped her head slightly as if she couldn’t face him. She drew her hands back and clasped them together. “Rupert wants to publicly present her with the prize of the foxtail as a way to humiliate Faith. He obviously hoped to weaken her chances even further for a match.”
“He’ll not bother either of you again, I promise.” If he could, he’d consume her guilt as his own. It would add little to his overwhelming burden, but it’d release her to live a happy life, one she deserved after all the heartache she’d had to bear.
She raised a dubious eyebrow. “Careful, I may hold you to that promise. He’s like a slow toxic poison, but I can’t refuse to see him. He’s really the only family we have left.” She blinked several times as if to clear her thoughts.
“Trust me, March,” he said.
She frankly assessed him with a sharp gaze.
“I don’t know if I can,” she murmured. “I’ve been on my own for so long. It’s difficult to release any of the responsibility. It’s like a carefully constructed bridge. If I pull off one plank, I’m afraid the entire structure will fall.”
“The guilt and grief you’re experiencing can be harmful if you don’t try to unburden some of it. We all experience grief in one way or another. It keeps us from reaching our potential if we allow it to become too heavy. Your sister is happy and receiving medical care.” He let out his breath.
Her intelligent eyes missed little. “Do you have any experience with such guilt and grief?”
For a moment, he believed she saw every fault he’d tried so hard to hide. “Of course, I’m human. It’s part of our being.” It was imperative that he turn the conversation to other matters before he confessed how flawed he really was. “Now, I’d like to discuss last night.”
She immediately stepped away. “You don’t have to explain. The magic of last night caught us both unaware. Let’s not mention it again.”
Her dismissal burned through him as if someone had pressed a red-hot anvil against his chest. He’d not allow her to withdraw from him, not after all they’d shared. “Last night was a joy for me, one that doesn’t occur that often. I despise society events, even ones my own mother hosts. But nothing would have kept me away from celebrating the night with you and your family.” He grasped her chin in his fingers and encouraged her to look at him. He wanted her to see his sincerity. “For selfish reasons, I wanted to see you in that dress. I wanted to dance with you.”
With tightly pursed lips, her skepticism slipped once again. “Please, don’t. I’m not and never will be fooled by such sayings.”
He blinked, not certain he’d heard her correctly. He was giving her a compliment and she was throwing it right back in his face in disbelief. “Why is it so hard to believe that I wanted to spend time in your company?”
“My lord—”
“‘My lord’ is it?” His nostrils flared as he exhaled in an attempt to keep himself from shaking some sense into her. “Why is it so hard to believe that you’re attractive? Sometimes I don’t have a clue as to what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
“I’m not the type of woman you find attractive,” she said. By now, that steel determination of hers had taken up residence in her stance. “I’m not Lady Miranda.”
He shook his head in an attempt to quiet the need to shout his frustration. “I don’t give a damn about Lady Miranda or any of those other chits that parade about town seeking a husband. I danced with her for reasons other than her company.”
“Such as laughter and smiles and looks of flirtation and infatuation…” Her voice trailed to nothing at the words. Suddenly, a scarlet color blossomed across her cheeks. With that little outburst, she’d disclosed that he did affect her—perhaps a great deal. The idea delighted him and eliminated his remaining consternation at her earlier denial of her attraction.
Not allowing her to turn away from him, he closed the distance between them until they almost touched chest to chest. She had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Perhaps you saw that on her face, but I assure you that I wasn’t feeling any of those things.”
He drew a deep breath and allowed her lilac scent to fill him. Every inch of his body tightened in readiness as he lowered his lips to hers. The slightest moan escaped her, and her mint breath scented with brandy brushed against his lips. With an ease that warred with his rising desire, he kissed her. The taste of her soft lips threatened to unleash an insatiable need, one only she could satisfy. He forced himself to slow his movements. On a gentle sigh, she opened her mouth, inviting him to take more. For an instant, he slanted his mouth over hers to do just that. Then reason prevailed, and he drew back. He didn’t dare take more from her, though he wanted to crush her to him and ravish her mouth as he did last night.
He had other plans for his little embezzler—a long-term strategy that would lead her to trust him and relieve some of her ever-present burden. He’d tease and tempt her until she begged him for more. He’d show her passion and desire until she writhed for more.
He’d make her believe she was beautiful.
Even if it was his complete undoing.
* * *
The next morning found March’s sisters in high spirits as they broke their fast. Faith leaned close and whispered, “I still cannot fathom why there are four footmen ready to attend us at breakfast every morning. At Lawson Court, we cooked and cleaned for ourselves.”
Glee laced the wonderment in her sister’s eyes. Their circumstances had catapulted from poverty to great wealth in just a short order. March surveyed the breakfast room that overlooked Langham Hall’s beautiful park. The opulent gold and pink baroque decorating didn’t diminish the coziness of their morning gatherings. Their acceptance in the Langham home was a true testament of the duke and duchess’s generosity.
Julia was a veritable chatterbox this morning. Yesterday afternoon, the Earl of Queensgrace had come to call on her with a small but delightful posy. March and Faith had already heard her thorough monologue regarding the Scottish lord’s refined manners and elegance, but the unf
ortunate Lord William had not. When he happened to sit with them in the breakfast room, Julia had jumped at the opportunity to share her story with someone else.
“The marquess had the posy especially made for me and delivered it himself.” As she regaled Lord William with every minute of the previous afternoon’s visit with the Scottish lord, Julia buttered her toast. It made little difference that she’d slathered butter on the piece of bread three different times. She was too enthralled with yesterday to pay the poor slice much attention. “He said the violets matched my eyes.”
Michael’s brother sat patiently sipping his coffee, and occasionally nodded his encouragement. March glanced at Faith, who had bowed her head in embarrassment over Julia’s continued onslaught extolling the virtues of the young lord.
“The marquess asked if he could take me for a ride in Hyde Park.” Julia finally stopped talking and sighed as she looked at the gloomy gray skies outside. “I don’t care if it’s a torrential rainstorm. I’m going.”
William regarded her and took another sip of coffee while trying to hide his smile. “Julia, it’s sleeting outside. You’ll freeze to death.” He folded the paper in his hands and stared as if it offered a welcomed reprieve from her incessant nattering. “Besides no one of the ton will see you with the young lord. They will all be home by a fire staying warm, which is my advice for you. Don’t appear too eager, my dear. Men hate that.”
“They do?” Julia’s brows drew together, and she frowned. “What should I do?” Her beautiful face melted into an unease that lined her brow.
March shook her head. “He’s teasing you, dearest.”
Julia narrowed her eyes at William, and this time he allowed himself to laugh aloud. “Forgive me, it’s just that you reminded me of Emma when she found something passionate to dwell on. She was an expert at holding all of us captive at the dinner table until she had finished her dissertations. I would always tease her unmercifully and couldn’t resist with you.”
“What types of things did she share about her callers, my lord?” Julia set her cutlery aside and gave him her undivided attention.
He leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling. “I don’t recall her ever discussing any man. She mostly talked about politics and women’s roles within society.”
“How silly my musings must sound.” She shyly dipped her head and bit her lip as if censured. “I apologize for not curbing my tongue.”
He briefly regarded March and Faith as if begging for help. “Julia … I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I was describing my darling sister’s personality.”
Faith leaned forward and patted Julia’s hand. “Dearest, we should probably get ready. Lady Somerton and Lady Daphne will be here shortly to take us shopping.”
March wouldn’t let her littlest sister suffer either. “Julia, your excitement is perfectly normal for a young woman enjoying her first Season. I dare say if I’d experienced your success, I’d be a prattling fool. No need to feel embarrassed.”
Lord William smiled down the table. “Indeed. It’s a joy to have you and your sisters here. You bring a vibrancy to Langham Hall that’s been missing since Emma married Somerton. I wouldn’t have you change a single thing about yourself.”
Perhaps it was the words or the way he said it so warmly, but immediately Julia’s disquiet lifted. She was back to her happy self again. With a nod and a smile, she took her leave with Faith. March stayed and continued to enjoy her tea and toast in relative silence.
William placed his paper down on the table and studied her. Not with the usual air of interest, but with something that set her on edge, as if slipping on a rocky slope and waiting for the inevitable fall. In response, she straightened her shoulders and stared in challenge.
His gaze pierced hers as if he studied her every mistake and misdeed. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. “I was hoping you might share with me your circumstances at Lawson Court before my brother petitioned the court for guardianship.”
The question took her by surprise, as she’d assumed Michael told his brother everything. The two were inordinately close. Practically every day they were together. Michael had even shared that when he traveled to McCalpin Manor, William usually joined him.
The attending footmen quietly gathered the used plates and then left the room. March placed her hands in her lap to quell the sudden nervousness. She despised having to relate how she and her family had lived in abject poverty for so long. Nevertheless, as Michael and his family had been so generous and loving toward hers, she didn’t want to keep anything hidden, particularly after the way William had first met her with the fruits of her embezzling spread before him like a proverbial feast.
“I had five pounds left to manage the estate for the next six months. The house had suffered severe damage during a storm along with our one and only tenant who suffered as much, if not more, damage than we did.” She gathered enough courage to share the rest. “When your brother came to discover our circumstances, I was at my wits’ end. It was horrifying.”
“Why? What were you afraid he’d discover?” His voice was pleasant, but there was a hint of skepticism in his drawl.
“How poor we actually are,” she murmured, then corrected herself. “How poor we actually were. When he found me, I’d been trying to capture some sheep we’d lost, and…” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I was injured in the process. Michael—the marquess—was very kind and helped me back to the house.” She took a deep breath for fortitude, but the old familiar humiliation started to rise, much like a dough of bread. The only difference was that the bread could nourish while the humiliation ate her from within. Shameful, burning tears flooded her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“My brother was so delighted there was an actual peer who’d come to ‘visit him’ that he asked your brother to stay for dinner. Everything we had for the week was served that night.”
“Go on.” His voice had lowered.
Oh God, was she really going to share the rest? “It’s humiliating.”
“I won’t judge you, March.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” she whispered. Where had such a spiteful comment come from? He hadn’t said anything to warrant such a hateful response.
“No, I want to know what McCalpin has gotten himself into. I need to know what he’s facing by helping you.”
“Fair enough.” She swallowed, but her disgrace had lodged in her throat like a brick. “Bennett’s cat brought in a freshly killed rabbit, and my brother joyfully related how it would be our dinner the next night.”
His face froze, except for the slight tightening of his jaw muscles.
“Bennett asked if the marquess wanted to eat with us again.” This time she laughed in defense of all her failures.
“Did you eat the hare?” he whispered.
Finally, she gathered the courage to face his condemnation. Whether she was twenty-four as McCalpin thought or her true age of twenty-five made little difference. She was unable to keep her family safe and fed. Nothing William could say would make her feel any worse about herself than she already did. “Yes. In a stew the next night.”
He didn’t have a response, but the shock on his face wasn’t something she’d likely forget in her lifetime.
She tried to explain—tried to make him understand that desperate times required desperate measures. “Otherwise, my siblings wouldn’t have had anything to eat.”
“I apologize that I intruded on your private business.” His brow lined as he struggled to find the right words. “You understand I must protect my brother.”
“How is asking these questions and discovering my shame protecting your brother?” Remarkably, she kept her voice from shrieking. Inside, she railed at the way the world had treated her family. Like a building storm, her anger at the injustice of it all grew too big to contain, and she unleashed it. “My father gave tirelessly for this country and for what? All the men he trusted to protect his progeny failed him, and in return,
us. The viscountcy is flush with money for the care and upkeep of the estate, but we haven’t seen a shilling. My brother is a peer of the realm for goodness’ sake. He and his sisters shouldn’t have to face poverty. The money I took rightfully belongs to me, but nobody gave a damn about us.”
Her eyes widened in horror, and she brought her hand to cover her quivering lips. She’d said the words aloud. She’d let those vile utterings spill and splatter around her like an overturned cup of tea.
She glanced away in a vain effort to gain some control over the riot of emotions that continued to pound through her. This was her mess, and she’d clean it as she always did—with as much acumen and grace as she possessed. He would most likely condemn her as a common, shrill woman without any class or manners. Perhaps she deserved nothing less for the outburst.
She clenched the fabric of her dress so tightly her hands hurt from the strain. She forced herself to release her grip, then cleared her throat. “I apologize, but I must ask, why are you interested?”
She forced her gaze to his and waited for whatever censure he would serve.
His face softened. “You honestly don’t know why I’m asking these questions?”
She didn’t answer as she continued to stare at him.
“It’s obvious to me, and I’m sure deep down you see it too. My brother has taken quite an interest in your well-being. Not because you’ve proven to be quite the proficient embezzler. He’s taken an interest in your family and specifically in you. For heaven’s sake, my father has even taken your brother to the House of Lords to hear arguments. Somehow you and your family have bewitched mine.” He rubbed his hand down his face as if this exchange was painful for him.
If he wanted to know pain, he should sit in her chair for just an hour. “A proficient embezzler? That’s how you see me? Does the reason why I embezzled my money mean nothing?”
“But it’s not your money until you turn twenty-five, is it? It’s the trust’s money and McCalpin holds the key.”
The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses Page 17