The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses

by Janna MacGregor

  “There must be an explanation.” God, was that his voice? The weak protest barely escaped.

  “My lord, Jameson was the one who discovered all these shenanigans.” Russell pointed at his bookkeeper. “He offered a reward to Rupert Lawson if he could find your seal. It was in her desk with the stationary she used to embezzle from you. Jameson went through the previous viscount’s legal papers and letters. That’s where he found the marriage certificate. Lawson offered to verify its accuracy by traveling to Chelmsford.”

  He fought through the fog that had descended into his brain. How could March have done this? His shook his head to clear the miasma that was slowly choking him.

  Russell turned his attention to Emma. “Lady Somerton, we believe it’s all part of her plan. She’s done these things to gain Lord McCalpin’s trust—”

  “You’re wrong,” Emma bit out as she stood and faced McCalpin. The flash of her green eyes demanded his full attention. “Do you hear what they’re saying?”

  The anguish in her plea caused her husband to stand abruptly. “Enough! You’re either going to have to calm down or we’re leaving.” Somerton captured her gaze. “This isn’t good for you or the baby,” he whispered.

  The tenderness in his voice and the way Somerton searched Emma’s face bespoke a love true and strong, unbreakable in their troth together. The image seared McCalpin’s heart. This morning, he was so certain he shared that same fidelity with March.

  After all the revelations, how could he? He didn’t want to believe the evidence, but in black and white it lay before him. He clenched his fists underneath the table to keep from roaring at the pain.

  Jameson approached with an open account book. “Sir, these are the accounts at McCalpin Manor. I’ve a detailed description of each suspect transaction.” He placed the book in front of him and pointed at a page. “See here—”

  McCalpin held up his hand to stop the bookkeeper. He’d enough torture in the last few minutes to last his entire lifetime. “I’m aware of it. Mr. Russell and Mr. Jameson, thank you for your efforts. Mr. Russell, try to find the funds. Hire a private investigator. I prefer Mr. Macalester. He’s discreet and works fast.”

  “Should we tell the duke?” Russell asked.

  “Not yet,” Michael said.

  Russell nodded and gathered his belongings.

  How would he ever be able to explain it while keeping up the façade that he was in control of the estates? With an angry swipe, he brushed away a trickle of sweat that trailed down the side of his face. The day Mrs. Ivers had predicated long ago had finally come to fruition. His father might reevaluate his confidence in his heir’s abilities. A suffocating weight of shame smothered him.

  Jameson slipped a piece of paper in front of him. “My lord, these are the funds Miss Lawson has taken from the trust fund. It totals one thousand one hundred and twenty-three pounds and seventeen shillings. Since she’s illegitimate, her fortune is to be split between her siblings.”

  McCalpin lifted his lip in a sneer. “I’ve no need for the dissertation, Mr. Jameson. I’m aware of Miss Lawson’s changed circumstances.”

  “Very well, my lord.” Jameson apologetically nodded.

  He didn’t spare a glance at Russell or Jameson as they left. He picked up the tally of March’s embezzlement and put it aside. How could she have duped him in such a manner? Yet, he couldn’t believe—couldn’t fathom such a betrayal.

  William quirked an eyebrow. “How do you know about the books? I just became aware of them today.”

  He held William’s gaze while schooling his features into a proper haughty ducal heir expression. He was ready for whatever lectures or scathing comments his brother might share. “March showed them to me. She went through the books.”

  “All of them?” Incredulous, William voice trailed to a whisper.

  “All of them,” he replied.

  Emma released a sigh. “That proves my point.”

  Somerton placed his hand over hers. “Macalester’s a good man. He’ll discover where the funds are.” He released a breath. “McCalpin, it’s possible the monies will leave England. Miss Lawson’s Mr. Hart is traveling to the States and may settle there. Bennett told us earlier this morning. While you were out yesterday, Hart came to visit the Lawson siblings.” Somerton stole a glance at Emma. “How are you?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. Go ahead and tell them the rest of it.”

  Somerton placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “The fellow inherited the majority of Erlington’s wool mills in the States. He’s getting ready to set sail later this week. If it was March, she may have given him the missing funds to hide over there.”

  Emma gently batted Somerton in the chest. “Nick, that’s beyond ridiculous. Why would she do that? Her family is here.”

  “My love, I’m just trying to follow the money,” Somerton offered.

  “That’s the point, Emma,” William whispered. “To protect her family from bearing any of the guilt or shame when it’s discovered what she’s done. It makes perfect sense.”

  “Let’s not convict her without at least hearing from her directly,” Emma pleaded.

  McCalpin’s mind raced while his gut twisted. March couldn’t have done this, but the facts were staring him in the face. Now nothing made sense.

  Her constant worry over money and the way she took the opportunity to get close to him at every turn were clear warning signs. She’d never even looked at another gentleman at all those balls she’d attended. Had her wayward trip to Chelmsford been part of her plan? When she’d come to his room, he’d seduced her ensuring he’d have no recourse but to marry her, thus absolving her of all wrongdoing.

  His heart clenched and demanded he look deeper. She’d been so loving and vulnerable last night when he took her in his arms. All along, she’d never asked for anything for herself. It was always for her brother and sisters.

  His old familiar enemy, humiliation, crowded his thoughts and took command. He had no idea how to rectify the damage. Hell, he didn’t even know who to blame or what to think.

  Emma broke away from Somerton’s embrace and stood before him. She placed her hand on his arm. “McCalpin, she’d never do anything to hurt you. She loves you. Can’t you see it?”

  His conscience demanded he focus on his duty. He could only see the wiles March had used to gain his trust, and he’d freely given it to her.

  William cleared his throat. “You need to think this through, McCalpin.”

  “Will, what are you doing?” Emma’s voice trembled with barely held outrage. “Since she and McCalpin started spending time together, you’ve never cared for her.”

  William narrowed his gaze to hers. “Are you suggesting I’m jealous of her?”

  “Not jealous.” Emma sighed. “That you’re not needed anymore. Perhaps ignored.”

  “Must I spell it out for everyone? Think of everything that’s happened since that family has come into our lives.” William’s outrage grew in volume. “Embezzling from trust funds, household accounts, and investments funds? Think of the scandal when Lawson announced March was a bast—”

  The Langham butler, Pitts, entered without knocking. “Lord McCalpin, Miss Lawson has arrived.”

  March rushed in like a fierce wind of her namesake. “Michael, I have news—” She came to an abrupt halt and glanced around the room. “Hello, everyone. What’s wrong?”

  McCalpin took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. He had to know the truth. Slowly, he stood and faced her. “I need you to answer a question for me.” Without betraying any of the anguish that tore up his insides, he continued, “Have you used my seal for anything after I told you not to?”

  She tilted her head and regarded him. “No.”

  “Think carefully,” he cautioned. He prayed she had the answers to prove her innocence to William and truthfully to him.

  “I said no. Why do you ask?”

  He exhaled his last bit of hope. He picked up the letter to L
awson. “Did you write this?”

  March’s brow drew together. She approached silently and took the letter from his grasp. She lifted her gaze from the paper. “Yes, but I can explain—”

  He whipped out the withdrawal demands from the household account and his investments, then handed it to her. “Are those your signatures of my name?”

  The color leeched from her face.

  “It’s an easy question to answer. Did you sign these? Yes or no?” he clipped.

  “Michael, you’re scaring me,” she whispered as she searched his face. She turned her attention to the documents and swallowed.

  The slight movement in her long elegant neck told him everything.

  She’d done it.

  He failed to brace himself as a chain reaction exploded inside. His lungs quit working, and he couldn’t move—couldn’t process a thought. As if in a free fall when the ground finally greets you in one crashing blow, his heart shattered. For an eternity, he couldn’t catch his breath. Finally, his body protested, and he inhaled. The effort did little to suppress the need to pound his fist through the wall.

  “These are my practice sheets, but I didn’t write the directives to have those funds withdrawn.” Her gaze captured his, and her eyes implored him to believe her lies. “I can explain. Rupert stole these sheets and the seal from my desk—”

  “How convenient,” Michael whispered to her. In a louder voice, he announced to the others, “I’d appreciate the courtesy if you’d allow me a private conversation with Miss Lawson.” His eyes never left hers as his siblings and Somerton exited.

  What a fool. He’d allowed a beautiful but beguiling wolf under the guise of a simple farmer to devour his heart and soul all the while pretending to guard the proverbial sheep. The startling truth almost knocked his knees out from underneath him.

  He’d given her the pistol and the powder to blow his entire world asunder. One word from her about his failings, and he was ruined.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  March’s pulse pounded in a frantic rhythm as Michael’s whisper accosted her. When the door clicked, he pivoted and stalked to a small buffet table. He poured two fingers of brandy in a glass and downed it one swallow. As if an afterthought, he turned and lifted the glass in the air as if offering her one. She shook her head once. Without a word, he returned his attention to refilling his glass.

  Wary, she never once took her gaze from his backside. This was a side of Michael she’d never seen—a man brimming with loathing and ready to explode in an anger she didn’t quite understand.

  “What’s happened? Why are you so angry?” Her muffled voice sounded hollow to her ears. She hadn’t felt this terrified since her parents had died, and she alone had carried the responsibility for her siblings.

  Gently, he placed his glass on the table and slowly turned to her. “I’ve been given information that leads me to believe that the woman I asked to share my life is stealing from me.” With his broad shoulders and dark visage, he slowly stalked toward her like a panther ready to annihilate her with a single bite.

  “Wouldn’t you agree that makes an excellent reason to be angry?” His subdued voice held a wrath that was terrifying.

  “Only if it were true,” she whispered. “What makes you think I’ve done that?”

  “Your own words.” He stood before her and his blue eyes seemed to radiate fire.

  “You didn’t let me finish,” she protested.

  “How Lawson is the one behind all of this?” He took a step closer, and she took a step back in retreat. “Come now, I wasn’t born last night.”

  “Today I was working at Lawson Court hoping it’d clear my mind. When I passed by Bennett’s desk, I realized I hadn’t given you back your seal. When I opened it, everything was gone.” She wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise as she had to make him see reason. “Rupert was there and informed me someone from your solicitor’s office asked him to clean out the desk and bring it to him. That same person, a Mr. Jameson, told Rupert to go to Chelmsford and look at the marriage register.”

  “Jameson informed me of those facts today.” He lifted one eyebrow and regarded her. “After our first meeting, you used my seal after I told you to bring it back to me.”

  She started to pace in an effort to escape the cold desperation that had invaded her body. “I was desperate to keep Rupert from humiliating Faith with the foxtail. I just acted.” She forced herself to stop. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it, but I didn’t steal from you. Please, you have to believe me.”

  “Why didn’t you bring the seal to me?” Like a vise, the slow cadence of his baritone voice wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed.

  She drew a painful breath frantic for some relief from this paralyzing unease. “I didn’t think of the ramifications. I’m sorry.”

  “March, every withdrawal instructed the funds be deposited into your new account at Fleming’s Bank.” He rubbed his hand down his face. “By coincidence, you find a culprit who’s stealing five thousand pounds from my accounts. Moreover, it just happened to be last night. Now, I have to ask—how did you know what accounts had errors? There’s no conceivable way you could have examined every account book at McCalpin Manor.”

  “Fleming’s? I’ve never stepped foot in that establishment. I don’t bank anywhere else but at Emma’s.” Her pulse raced, and she grew lightheaded. “I told you last night. I’m quick with numbers.”

  “Undoubtedly, a trait that served you well in dealing with an idiot like me,” he whispered.

  “Don’t you dare say that about yourself.” She took a step toward him to offer comfort and reassurance that the horrible things he repeated weren’t true. He didn’t give her the chance as he turned abruptly and walked to the fire.

  He bent his head and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “I’ve only taken money from the trust account I thought was mine. The exact amount is one thousand one hundred and twenty-seven pounds—”

  “And seventeen shillings,” he finished for her. “But that’s just a small part of it, isn’t it?”

  “Michael?” Her whisper turned into a plea, and she didn’t care. She’d get down on her hands and knees and beg him to listen to her. She had to make him understand that she would never do such vile things—not to him or anyone else for that matter.

  “Why, March?” He didn’t turn from his study of the fire. “You could have had jewels, gowns, carriages, a generous allowance, not to mention a rare position in society that women around the continent would die for. You would have been the Duchess of Langham someday.”

  His solemn words cut her in two. He actually believed she’d stolen from him. “Do you think I care for any of that except being your wife?”

  “Last night, I didn’t. But today?” He shook his head. “Today, I don’t know what to believe.” He finally turned and stared at her. “Did none of this”—he waved his hand between them—“mean anything to you? Did last night mean nothing but a way to force me to marry you so you wouldn’t get caught?”

  “What are you saying?” She could barely speak. His words were so demeaning she wondered if she could withstand the assault. “Did you look in your household account book to see what I’d written?”

  “Why? Will I find more of the same stealing and embezzling that we didn’t cover last night?”

  “You should read it,” she whispered.

  “I’m finished with that nonsense,” he murmured.

  He turned away, and her heart sank as if tied to an anchor seeking the ocean’s bottom. She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn’t fall into a heap. This morning, she’d written him a note, a very personal note, one that described her complete commitment and love for him.

  The door swept open, and the Duke of Langham appeared. While most men simply entered a room, he commanded it. The duke locked the door behind him.

  “What is going on?” The duke’s gaze darted from Michael’s to hers.

  Immediately, March execut
ed a proper curtsy. “Your Grace.”

  Michael acknowledged his father with a dip of his head but didn’t say a word. Immediately, his face turned into a haughty mask, one she’d seen repeatedly worn by the nobility that had to deal with undesirables like herself.

  Without pause, the duke walked to his desk and settled into the massive chair. How a man so large could move so quietly and gracefully had to be inborn. Once he settled and straightened the documents on his desk, he directed his attention to Michael. “Explain to me how this happened.”

  Michael lifted a brow and regarded March. His unwavering gaze full of disdain penetrated hers. “Perhaps Miss Lawson might be able shed some light on the errors.”

  “Errors?” The duke’s voice was even, but the lethal sharpness of a steel sword underscored the word. “These aren’t simple errors, McCalpin. This is an uncontrollable bleeding from the estates, one you should have caught immediately. Not only is there damage to McCalpin Manor, but Falmont is impacted. Severin and Merritt met me after my last appointment and are in the library with every account book. As we speak, they’re combing through every account and every entry trying to find out exactly what happened. The auditor, Mr. Wilburton, is on his way to join them. No one will rest until we determine the actual amounts stolen and who did it.”

  The duke waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he started to drum the fingers of one hand on his desk. The rhythm began slowly, but as the silence grew between the three of them, the movement quickened until finally, the duke slapped his hand on the desk.

  “Is there something I’m missing?” The duke stared at Michael, whose attention was devoted to the fireplace. Lost in another world, he didn’t answer his father. The duke exhaled and directed his attention to her. “March, you’ve reviewed the books. Can you shed any light on this?”

  She stole a glance at Michael. The comfort and affection she’d experienced in his arms last night was a distant dream. A trickle of sweat meandered down the side of his face. His olive-toned skin had faded into a pasty pallor that marked his handsome face with irrefutable pain. He clenched his fists so tightly that the white of his knuckles was visible across the room. He was completely unraveling before her into someone she didn’t recognize.