The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses

by Janna MacGregor

  “Boston?” His eyes widened, making the blue even more striking. “What about Bennett and your sisters? What about me?”

  All she could offer was a shrug and hoped it hid the depths of her desolation. “I’m ruined. I’m a bastard, and it’s clear you think I’ve stolen from you and my family.”

  “I want to believe you, March.”

  The plea in his voice was unmistakable, but she had no answers for him.

  “But you don’t believe me, and neither does anyone else. When I arrived home yesterday, it became clear that even the people of Leyton don’t trust me. I’d hope to work as a bookkeeper for the merchants around town to reimburse you, but they want nothing to do with me.…” She let the words drift to nothing. “I want to right this wrong, but I can’t do it here.”

  Michael clasped her elbow, forcing her to look at him. His stern countenance baffled her. “You can’t accomplish anything halfway around the world. People will think you’re guilty if you leave. No, you stay here.” He pulled her close. “You needn’t worry. No matter what has happened, I will marry you. We shared a bed. You could be carrying my child as we speak.”

  She broke from his hold. With him this near, her senses would stage a revolt, demanding she seek comfort in his arms again. She had to keep her mind sharp if she wanted to survive this. The haunting memory of a future with him had died a slow death after the wounds from last night.

  He started to say something, but faltered in the enveloping silence that had descended between them. He ran his gloved fingers through his hair. “I don’t understand yesterday, but deep down, I want to trust you. I need to trust you.” He smiled, but the effort lacked his natural warmth. “We can mend this breech between us. Your fears made you act in ways that went against our interests. Even if you thought you had good reason to do what you did, we both realize that wasn’t the case.”

  “What are you saying?” Caustic, his words burned her ears. Another roll of emotion swept through her. Like water on the verge of boiling, her irritation started to simmer into little pops of anger.

  He lifted one brow in that provoking manner like every other arrogant English lord. “I’m not here to argue. As I said before—”

  A searing pain twisted around her heart smothering some of her anger. He actually believed she’d been disloyal to him. What else could he think? At Langham Hall, all the circumstances had baked into a concoction of proof that made all his nightmares come true.

  She drew in a gasp to quell the misery. “I didn’t betray your trust,” she whispered fervently, hoping he’d believe her. “I guarded it. Don’t you see that?”

  It was the only thing she wanted from him. His belief she wouldn’t hurt him. She could never forsake him—not for any amount of money.

  “I don’t know what I see.” He turned and studied the hill. In profile, the clench of his jaw was evidence of his own pain and anger. He cleared his throat and returned his attention to her. “I’m still responsible for your siblings. We’ll have to discuss their welfare from time to time. Let us make this right between us.” He was practically shouting at her with an indignation that matched hers. Perhaps it was agony she heard vibrate in his voice. “We shall still marry.”

  “Why would you want to?” She knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from his lips. He didn’t love her, but his honor demanded he take her as his wife.

  “It’s the honorable thing to do.”

  She sighed and the wind captured her despair and threw it into the air. “Don’t worry. If there’s a child, I’ll take care of it. A bastard having a bastard isn’t uncommon. No one will know in the States.”

  “Bloody hell,” he roared. “You’ve cut me deep enough. What else do you want from me? Every spec of blood?”

  “I could say the same to you,” she shot back. I want you to love me. Though she thought it, she didn’t dare utter it. Whatever chances she had for love, she lost yesterday. She closed her eyes, desperate for equilibrium. “Please don’t do this.”

  “What have I done to you? You’re the one who appears to have taken advantage of my family and me. Can’t you see how difficult this is for me?” He clasped her arms and shook as if gently trying to dislodge the truth. “Do you know what would make this right? If you were in my bed and in my arms, I’d kiss you senseless while we made love.” He shook his head in disgust and let her go. “That’s the only logical thing I’ve understood in the last two days. Perhaps we’d find our way out of this nightmare.”

  For a moment, her heart pounded, encouraging her to forget everything and take what he offered. The comfort she needed would be so easy to take. However, she’d only fool herself. The next morning, she’d find him questioning her again. Examining her. In her heart, the harsh truth wouldn’t quiet. Inevitably, the doubt in his eyes would tear her apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. His lack of trust would whittle away what remained of her self-respect.

  Even though her heart might not survive, she’d made the best decision for them both.

  She’d done this to herself—undermined her own happiness. If she stayed at Lawson Court, her taint would ruin her family. Boston was the only option. She’d find a new life until she could return. Once her sisters married, she’d come back for Bennett.

  His pointed stare captured hers as he closed the distance between them. It’d take little for him to vanquish the scant resistance she clung to as a lifeline. He grabbed her without apology and crushed her to him as his lips met hers in a blinding kiss full of anger and passion. Her knees buckled under the assault of his possession, but he wouldn’t let her go. He devoured her and what little resistance she had left. His tongue fought with hers. Yearning for more, she moaned, all her fight withering. The sound seemed to increase his hunger for her. Holding her tightly, he dominated every inch of her until his kiss softened almost as if pleading with her.

  Suddenly, he drew back and fought for air as he regarded her. “If you go to Boston, it’s admitting your guilt.”

  She scoffed her denial and fought to get her traitorous body under control. His kisses had robbed her of the ability to think. “Don’t manipulate me. I don’t want you like this.”

  “You may not want me, but your kiss and your body tell me differently.” His hoarse whisper slashed through her resolve. “When you started your embezzling perhaps you thought you could manipulate me. Perhaps you saw how easy it would be to gain my fortune. Tell me, did I mistake genuine affection for subterfuge?”

  Reeling from his kiss, her disloyal body leaned into his as if recognizing that he was hers. She straightened to her full height and found the words to challenge his hateful question. “Don’t you know? Look at your household accounting book.”

  “The account book.” His guttural laugh sliced through her. The contempt clear in the cold air. “Thank you for reminding me of my failures. I don’t need it, nor shall I waste any more time on that tripe.”

  His vitriol made her recoil. There it was. The push she needed—the knowledge that her heart hadn’t wanted to accept. She’d made the right choice to go with Hart. He didn’t care what she’d said about loving him and keeping his secrets safe. He only cared about his honor and duty. “Yesterday you said sometimes hard decisions must be made. I understand what you mean.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve made the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life. Go back to London, Michael.”

  She turned and faced the valley in an effort to shield herself from the pain. In seconds, Donar’s pounding hooves broke across the meadow, creating the much-needed distance.

  It would be the last thing Michael ever gave her—the eviscerating sound of him leaving her behind.

  * * *

  After McCalpin had returned from Leyton and his disastrous meeting with March, he’d sought refuge in his study. He stared out the window and saw nothing. He’d found no peace. Just an emptying pain.

  A lone tear escaped.

  His mind and his heart were engaged in a fierce battle with the winn
er taking all. Whatever the inevitable spoils of war, he knew he would be the loser. All his life he’d just assumed love would find him. He’d always considered it his due much like his duty was his birthright.

  What he felt for March consumed him and made him want to disavow every responsibility he’d been groomed to accept and manage. Never in his wildest imagination did he think he’d face something this brutally unfair—choosing between duty and a woman he thought would be the perfect wife—even if she stole from him. If forced to choose between the two, he wasn’t certain of the outcome. That was the extent of his so-called honor. However, he’d never face that decision.

  March had made the choice for him. Her true regard had been as clear as the country air he’d breathed today. His throat tightened as the pain rose in surges like angry waves in a storm. She’d cast him aside and ripped his heart to pieces in the process.

  He suddenly realized both of his cheeks were wet. How appropriate. He hadn’t shed any tears since that fateful day with Mrs. Ivers. He brushed a hand down his face in a feeble attempt to clear his misery. It did little to subdue the gut-wrenching despair.

  How could he have been so mistaken to think she was different from any other woman he took great means to distance himself from?

  Thankfully, Buxton interrupted his pitiful musings with a summons that the duchess needed an escort home from Hailey’s Hope, the charity for homeless soldiers that she managed along with Claire. His mother never asked for his assistance, so without delay, he headed her way. It would keep his thoughts from March.

  Within minutes, he was escorting her into his black-lacquered carriage. As soon as they settled opposite each other, the vehicle moved like a well-oiled machine through the streets of London heading toward Langham Hall.

  He said little since he wasn’t interested in conversation. His only desire was to return home to the solitude of his study. He was poor company and didn’t try to hide it.

  His mother tapped the roof once, and the carriage slowed to a halt at the Hyde Park entrance closest to the Serpentine.

  “Madame, are we stopping because you’re interested in some exercise?” he drawled.

  His mother sat in the forward-facing bench and scooted over to the window. She patted the seat beside her, indicating she wanted him to sit next to her. “I want to show you something.”

  McCalpin did as requested. His mother pulled her own curtain back and pointed to a group of three women and one boy standing off to the side of the main walkway.

  “Look there,” she commanded. Her melodic voice held the unmistakable hint of steel.

  His attention was riveted to the sight of March with Bennett, Julia, and Faith.

  “At this very moment, March is telling them she’s leaving for Boston. This is her farewell,” she whispered.

  “How do you know? Why isn’t she at Langham Hall saying her good-byes?” From this distance, he could easily make out the distress on Julia’s face. Faith had her back to him. Bennett had his hands clasped behind his back, studying the ground.

  “She believes she isn’t welcome.” His mother’s voice cracked, but he couldn’t see her expression as she held a vigilant watch with her face turned toward the group. “She sent notes to all of them to meet her here. She also left one for your father.”

  Immediately, his guard went up, but he slowly released his breath. She’d never divulge his ineptitude with numbers to his father in such a manner. It wasn’t in her character. She’d be the type to cut him in pieces in person so she could enjoy the carnage. That talent was in evidence today when she’d desecrated him at Lawson Court. “Madame, how are you aware of all this?”

  His mother turned her gaze to his. “The footman Milton is Bennett’s favorite. Bennett told him his plans, and Milton is loyal to me. I know what is occurring in my own household.”

  “Remind me never to attempt a coup when you’re home,” he chuckled. It was the only way to mask his unease. He’d tried to convince himself March wouldn’t leave her family, which meant she’d still be in his life, but the proof was before him.

  His mother ignored the quip and studied the sight before her. Finally, after a few minutes, Julia’s hands flew to her mouth and her shoulders shook. Faith tried to pull her close, but Julia shrugged her sister off and launched herself into March’s arms. Even though he couldn’t hear the conversation, his heart wrenched in two as Julia’s grief became poignantly bare to all.

  A knot rose in his throat when Faith pulled Bennett to her side as if needing his strength. The boy succumbed to his sister’s wishes, but his face bore the torment he suffered. March released Julia and hugged Faith. The two sisters exchanged words and nodded to each other, then Faith bowed her head.

  “I can’t perceive how agonizing this must be for her.” His mother’s soft whisper slashed straight through his resolve not to care. “She’s struggled for over eight years to take care of that family, a responsibility foisted upon her because of ill luck.”

  He refused to glance her way. With one look, he’d be on his knees—leveled from the pain.

  “Can you imagine a girl turning into a woman overnight? Everything she expected for her future turned upside down because she was responsible for three children when she was still a child herself?” His mother exhaled loudly. “She knows it’s in their best interests if she leaves them since she can’t protect them anymore. She believes her presence puts their social standing in jeopardy. Envision the love and trust she must possess to give them up to you. A family she’s loved her entire life.”

  “Perhaps it’s justice,” he whispered.

  Her brow crinkled in perfect lines as a fierce scowl marred her face. “No. It’s a woman who loves deeply. A woman who loves her family, but more importantly, a woman who loves the man sitting beside me.”

  “You see things that aren’t there, Mother.”

  March held Bennett’s full attention. The light caught the glistening tears on her cheeks as she talked with him. The boy’s face was near colorless. March was saying something, and the boy nodded with a bowed head. Gently, March tugged his chin until she held his gaze. The sight so raw and crushing in its pain, he turned away.

  His mother blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “She raised that boy. She taught him everything she knew. He’s a wonderful, loving, and an extremely talented human being. And your March shaped him into a person who will grow into a fine man who will do great things in his lifetime.” She took a shuddered breath, then released it. “I can’t help but wonder what she would do with her own child now that she’s matured into the woman before you.” His mother placed her hand over his. “And she’s entrusted Bennett’s care to you. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is, son.”

  He squeezed her hand, hoping she’d stop. However, his mother possessed a strength that could defeat Napoléon and his forces with one stare.

  “We Cavenshams pride ourselves on doing the right thing. We try hard to help others. But your March”—she bent her head and stared at their clasped hands—“is in a category all by herself.” His mother smiled, but tears threatened. “When I picked her up that day from Mademoiselle Mignon’s, she’d been embarrassed by several women in the shop. On the way home, I made a comment that you should have told her we would pay for everything. I was really quite upset with you.”

  His heart grew heavy at his mother’s affectionate smile.

  “Her defense of you was blinding in its warmth and respect. It was then that I knew she loved you.”

  Through the pain, he returned the smile, then shook his head. “Madame, are you telling me that I’ve made a mistake?”

  “I’m telling you that no matter your doubts, you must discover the truth for yourself.” Much like March with Bennett, she captured his gaze as she continued. “You’ll not be able to live with yourself otherwise. I don’t want to see you or March hurt.”

  He clenched his eyes shut. Never did he think he’d share his shame so honestly with his mother, but wit
h his heart and soul bleeding, he had no choice. The woman he loved was leaving him and her family. He had never allowed himself to consider the truth of his feelings, but today they couldn’t be denied. Nor would they stay quiet. He loved March so completely he doubted he’d ever recover if he lost her. However, he had no idea how to right this wrong. With his heart ready to fly apart in anarchy, he nodded.

  He swallowed the thickness in his throat. “Mother, I don’t know how I can discover the truth. Even if I had years, I can’t do it. I only have this evening, and the task is too great for me.” He covered his hands with his face, then forced himself to face her. “I can’t add more than three numbers together.”

  Tears streamed down his mother’s face. “I know, my love.”

  “It’s an impossible task. I shouldn’t even be allowed near the duchy’s accounts.”

  She raised her hand for him to stop. “My heart broke countless times when I saw how you struggled, but you learned to compensate.” Her eyes searched his as if encouraging him to listen. “But don’t ever doubt your ability or right to run the duchy. You have an undeniable strength that masters your weakness. You look beyond someone’s mistakes and see their worth. Can’t you try to do that for your March?”

  McCalpin chanced another glance outside. The Lawson family were gone. A hole caved in his heart. He didn’t get the chance to see March leave. She was his. God, how could he stop her?

  “Examine her conduct and judgment as you wrestle with her motivations. If you don’t think she deserves that courtesy, then that’s your decision.” His mother’s eyes glistened with more tears. “But I would hate for the opportunity of a lifetime to be missed because you doubt your own worth and ability. We all have weaknesses. A brave man knows how to work around his.” His mother tapped lightly on the roof, and the carriage lurched forward to return them to Langham Hall.