Faith widened her eyes. “Did you see the roasted pheasant for tomorrow? It made the ones on the estate look like miniature partridges.”
“I think our luck has finally changed for the better, don’t you, March?” Julia inquired.
“Indeed. Sit down, both of you. I want to tell you my plans.” Her two sisters sat on the edge of her bed. “I need you both to stay close to the house and watch Bennett tomorrow. Though Lord McCalpin said he’d send for us, I don’t want to wait. Hart is going to take me to the townhouse where I’ll prepare for your arrival. As soon as Hart drops me off, he’ll return and stay with you. I’ll send a note to the marquess informing him that I’ve arrived. Once preparations are finished, you all will join me. I’ve made arrangements with Mr. and Mrs. Garwyn to attend the sheep while we’re away.” The blacksmith and his wife had been their friends for years and always helped when they could. “As payment, we’ll share our profits from the sale of wool.”
Faith nodded in agreement. Though she couldn’t contribute as much, she shared March’s interest in the estate. As ragtag as it was, it was their heritage. “That’s a sound idea.”
“What do we do if Rupert visits before Hart returns?” The slight tremor in Julia’s voice caused March’s heart to skip a beat.
“Perhaps it’s better for all of us if you stay with Mr. and Mrs. Garwyn.” She reached over and grasped Julia’s hand. “You’ll be safe until Hart returns. Agreed?”
Julia sighed in relief. “Agreed. I’ll be glad when we can all be together again.”
“Me too,” Faith shared.
“Me three,” March chimed in.
Deep inside, a faint flame of hope ignited. She’d be thrilled to see her David, too. The quicker she could open the townhouse, the faster they all could be together again.
Chapter Eight
It took every ounce of restraint McCalpin possessed not to bellow to the rafters. Instead, he called for his carriage then reread the barely legible note from Lord Lawson.
McCalpin,
I’m delighted to inform you that March is opening the family’s my London townhouse at this very moment. My family and I will arrive in London as soon as possible follow shortly.
It was the next sentence that sent McCalpin’s blood boiling.
We My sisters and I hide hid at the smithy’s home until Hart returned from delivering March. I feared our cousin Rupert might descend upon Lawson Court and devour our new surplus of food. Thankfully, he stayed away. Once Hart arrived, we all felt safe again. When March has everything in order, she’ll send for us.
In case your you are wondering, Maximus will stay at Lawson Court with Mrs. Oliver. He throws a fit when forced to travel in our cart. He catched caught another hare. This time we did not eat it. Thank you for the food.
In closing, I’d like to extend an invitation to dine with me again. I can’t wait to see March, and I look forward to seeing you at your earliest convenience conveneince convenience.
Yours,
Lawson
P.S. I guess I spelled convenience correctily the first time.
McCalpin fumed as he shared the young viscount’s exact sentiments. He couldn’t wait to find the viscount’s oldest sister. Once he found her safe and sound, he would wring her pretty little neck, then he’d give her a lecture she wouldn’t soon forget.
Only he couldn’t shake the deep-seated worry that twined like a spiky vine in his chest. Who was keeping March safe?
No one, since she was alone in London.
When he stepped out of the carriage, darkness had descended on London. The cold winter night had swallowed the last hints of the sunset. The star-filled sky was clear with a crisp bite as a gentle wind whipped his fur-lined cloak around his boots.
Somehow, with March, he seemed to take greater note of the passage of time. Only a quarter of an hour had passed since he’d received Bennett’s letter. Leaving his footman to close the carriage door, McCalpin stormed across the street toward the Lawson townhouse that straddled the Mayfair and St. James areas of London.
As he approached the modest but elegant home, he slowed his gait. Simple plain lines with minimal trim gave the abode a rather regal air about it. The bright red door welcomed visitors and was in striking contrast to the white stone façade that lined the front.
It didn’t appear anyone was home as the house sat eerily silent and dark, but the attached knocker indicated the family would receive visitors. His gaze swept upward, then stopped when he caught the unmistakable glow of candlelight from a third-floor window. Someone was there, and he’d lay odds it was his little embezzler.
After a brisk knock, he waited a few moments then opened the door. She’d failed to take the necessary precautions of locking the entrance. Another item to address in her lecture.
Darkness eerily shrouded the entry, but the moon illuminated the staircase to his right. With quick steps, he proceeded to the second floor. On a small side table lay a candle and tinderbox. He made quick work of catching a flame, then proceeded to the third floor.
A thick carpet covered the hallway and muffled his footsteps. He paused when he came to the open door from where light spilled into the hallway. At first glance, it appeared that pandemonium had taken up residence within the room. Fabric and outdated evening gowns covered every inch of available space. Shoes, fans, reticles, and gloves lay sorted into various piles. An ornate cheval mirror, a massive piece of black lacquered wood with gold-foiled trim, stood in one corner of the room.
Amidst all the disarray, March gazed at her reflection while holding a faded ivory satin court dress to her body. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side. Swaying slightly, she held one arm around her waist and the other wrapped around the bodice of the dress. Lost in her dance, March hummed gently under her breath. Her fingers lightly stroked the embroidery pattern of pale-pink and green flowers that decorated the overskirt. The sensual picture she presented mesmerized him.
Her dulcet alto warmed the room with sounds that called him forward. She was so entranced in her thoughts she didn’t hear him approach. Slowly, she stopped her swaying as if her dance with her imaginary partner had ended. Her eyes fluttered open, and the gentle candlelight kissed her cheeks. At her serene expression accompanied by a slight blush, he took a deep breath. All thought escaped except for the vision before him.
At that moment, all he desired was to change places with the gown she clenched tightly to her body. The crushing need to sweep her into his arms pushed aside all reason. The urge to feast upon the sweet pout of her lips made him want to lose himself in her embrace. My God, she was a seductress without even knowing it. His little embezzler was temptation incarnate.
Her focus returned to the mirror. The moment she recognized him, her hands dropped to her sides, and the gown slowly fell with an elegant swoosh to the floor like a supplicant who worshipped her.
A vision of him taking the dress’s place and kneeling before her made his entire body tighten. In a desperate attempt to shake the image from his thoughts, he swallowed. His gaze held hers in the mirror for a moment, then his perfidious eyes followed the sensual picture the mirror presented him. The buttons on the front of her plain brown dress were undone to her waist, and she didn’t wear stays. The thin fabric of her plain chemise was a brilliant white in the candlelight. A beacon, it called him closer, enticing him to touch the creamy softness of her skin. The luscious expanse of her chest caused his breath to hitch. As a gentleman, he shouldn’t spare a glance. Yet his mind and body revolted when his traitorous eyes lingered on the gentle swell of her breasts. As much as tried, he couldn’t help but lower his gaze to her darkened nipples that gently pushed against the thin fabric, demanding his full attention.
She was a banquet of sensual delights, and he was a starving man.
“David,” she whispered like a siren calling him nearer. The bronze and gold in her eyes shimmered in bewilderment.
At the sound of another man’s name on her lips, he crashed
into a massive proverbial rock much like those ill-fated mariners when they heard the sweet songs of the mythological sirens. Momentarily stunned, he stared at her. She blushed and covered herself. He prowled toward her until he stood not more than a hand’s width behind her. Her heat called him closer, but he resisted her allure this time. His gaze captured hers in the mirror.
“David?” He ground his teeth to keep from roaring. No doubt, some nefarious farmer who would dare touch her and spoil her beauty.
Again, she blushed a beautiful pink then dipped her head. He placed his hand on her shoulder and trailed his fingers around the front of her neck. Her pulse pounded against his hand. With his thumb and forefinger, he gently clasped her chin and made her meet his gaze.
“You are.” She swallowed, and the muscles on her throat rippled underneath his fingers. “The first time I saw you…” Her words faded to nothing, but she didn’t shy away this time. The warmth of her gaze melted his trepidation.
“Tell me.” He reached to cup her left cheek. With a light touch, he encouraged her to turn and face him.
Graceful in her movement, she pivoted and stood before him. She raised her head slightly to look into his eyes. “I walked through the door of your home, and you were standing on the steps after a ride. I’d never seen anyone so perfect and handsome in my life. The tilt of your head as you glanced at me reminded me of a sketch my father acquired in Florence during one of his journeys. It was Michelangelo’s David. Then your kindness when I was injured and the food you sent. You’re as fierce a protector as David was.”
In her eyes, he saw what the honesty of that confession had cost her. Vulnerable with sharing her secret, March’s chest rose and fell as if waiting for some pronouncement from him.
For a moment, he allowed himself to believe she did perceive him as perfection. Never before in his life had he ever felt perfect—far from it. Flawed and defective in so many simple ways, he’d dismissed any hint of adoration from females. If anyone knew what a simpleton he was with the simplest of figures, they’d laugh at his weakness. Once a woman understood his failing, they’d have him at their mercy. They’d only desire him as a means to a title of duchess, and a very prestigious and powerful one at that—the Duchess of Langham.
Yet the light from her eyes was heavenly, and he let himself bask in her confession as his heart pounded loudly. Without waiting for reality to intrude upon their moment, he closed what little distance there was between them. He cupped her cheeks, and his thumbs rubbed the high fragile cheekbones of her face. Her soft skin captivated him, coaxing him closer. He stared into her gaze, then slowly lowered his lips to hers.
At the first touch of his lips against hers, desire ran like a raging river through him, and his cock swelled as if flooded with her beauty. Her soft whimper escaped, and the need to pull her into the safety of his arms increased to the point of pain.
Reality interrupted his pleasure and he forced himself to pull away. This was wrong. She was his responsibility, not a woman he should seduce. He closed his eyes as his mind and cock warred against each other.
“March,” he whispered. “God, you’re lovely, but we mustn’t.” As he struggled to bring his desire under control, he traced her jaw with a finger and inhaled. As if under a spell, he couldn’t quit touching her.
Finally, she must have realized how risky their behavior was and took a wobbly step back. She was as affected as he was.
“What are you doing here?” He scooped her hand in his and raised it to his lips, not letting her increase the distance too much.
“I thought to see if any of these old dresses could be remade into gowns for my sisters.” She’d lost her skittishness, but her voice was still tremulous with passion from the brief firestorm they’d created together.
Still holding her hand, he bent down and picked up the ivory gown she’d held close to her when he’d entered. “You like this one?”
She nodded, and the radiance of her smile made him feel as if he’d just been crowned king. “My mother had it made for my first Season.” She took a deep breath and released it.
Suddenly, he understood the significance of what she was saying. “Your parents died.” His eyes searched hers. He wanted to know everything she’d lost and struggled with through those years she’d cared for her family.
She wrinkled her pert but exquisite nose. It was a desperate attempt to conceal her disappointment, but pain flashed in her eyes and ruined the effect. “It doesn’t make any difference. All that matters now is that Faith and Julia have the opportunity to make their introductions into society. Our family isn’t as grand as many of the ton families, but we come from a long line of viscounts that have given unselfishly to the crown. Anyone who makes a match with either of my sisters will be lucky.”
The power of her conviction pleased him. She was pragmatic, but well aware of the importance of family and the need to make respectable marriages for her sisters.
“It’s not too late for you to be introduced into society either.”
“Please.” Her eyes grew hooded, and she raised her fingers to his lips, the touch intimate. “Don’t spoil this moment for me.”
“You’ll not get an argument from me.” He grinned, and she joined him.
In a flash, she must have realized the state of her dishabille and pulled her gown together. She turned around and faced the mirror. Her fingers fumbled over the buttons as she started to fasten her dress. He turned his back to her.
The brush of her hands and fingers against the muslin gown broke the silence. “You may turn around now,” she announced.
Her smile could have melted a five-inch layer of ice on a winter’s day. It was the perfect segue to determine why she was here in London alone and at this empty house. “I received a letter from Bennett. He was quite chatty and shared that you hid the family at the local smithy’s so they were safe from your cousin.”
“Well, you see—”
He waved a hand through the air. “If my recollection serves me, didn’t I give detailed instructions? I told you that I’d send word and a coach when all was ready for the family to travel.” He took a quick glance around the room. There was no fire in the fireplace, and undoubtedly, she suffered from the drafty cold. He held out his hand. “Come, let’s go downstairs. Do you have a fire in any of the rooms?”
She nodded and accepted his hand. “In the kitchen. Are you hungry? I have cheese, bread, ham, and wine.”
“Sounds delightful.”
He escorted her out of the room. They walked side by side and descended the two staircases until they arrived on the lower floor. Down the darkened main hallway, she led him into the kitchen. A robust blazing fire had been well-tended and showed no signs of letting up.
As March busied herself finding plates and laying out the cuts of cheese and meat, he surveyed the domestic scene before him. An image of March heavy with child flashed before him. Shocked where his thoughts were going, McCalpin shook his head, then took a sip of the wine. He waited for her to sit before he partook of the offerings she’d served.
After he swallowed his first bite, he turned his full attention to her. She munched a sliver of ham and placed a piece of soft Camembert cheese on a slice of bread. When she finally noticed he was looking at her, she placed the food down on the plate and clasped her hands in her lap. “What would you like to discuss? Our kiss?”
“Kiss?” Her question was not the response he’d expected. Her face was impassive, but her lovely eyes darted everywhere but to his.
“Rest assured I won’t think any less of you,” she announced. “It was a magical moment for me. It’s so rare that I…”
“What?” A prickly unease replaced his earlier calm.
“Have a man look at me,” she whispered.
“As if desirable?” he asked. Immediately, he wanted to grab her hand and confess all the things he’d wanted to do with her in that attic. Anything to take the forlorn look from her face.
“Yes—no.” She shook
her head as if dazed. “As if he wanted to kiss me.” She played with the bread on her plate, tearing it into little pieces.
He took a sip of the excellent full-bodied wine, perfect for a cold night like this. The fact that a lovely lady sat across from him made the drink that much richer.
“But I did. What if I wanted more than just a kiss?” he teased. She’d be magnificent in his bed stretched across him. Immediately, he tensed and wanted to recall the words. He’d wanted a kiss, a very sweet kiss. That was all.
Nothing more.
“Now, you’re making fun of me,” she retorted. “I don’t want anything to jeopardize our friendship. I’m so thankful you’ve helped my family. I’d hate it if things became uncomfortable between us and you not visit at your leisure.”
His gaze captured hers. “March, you misunderstand. We’re not friends.”
“Pardon me?”
“I went to the Court of Chancery and had myself appointed guardian for your siblings and the viscount’s estate. From now on, all decisions for the welfare of your family lie in my hands.”
He’d expected her undying gratitude. Instead, he got a look sharper than a rapier, one designed to make him bleed.
“Over my dead body,” she announced.
* * *
March held her temper in check by the most meager of threads. Magnificently fit and relaxed, the marquess leaned against the back of the chair and poured more wine into his glass. He raised a brow and regarded her, almost as if he was ready to laugh at her challenge.
With two sentences, he’d changed her entire world. The power he held over her was immense. He held not only her money, but also her family’s happiness and welfare—not to mention their position in society—in the palm of his hand. They were at his mercy to do with what he wanted. This was the exact position she’d avoided with Rupert. The question for her was whether she trusted his actions—whether she trusted him.
“My lord, did you ever think to discuss this with me before you made decisions that impacted my family, not to mention me?” She tried to stay civil, but her ire had started to rise. She should be grateful. The burden she’d carried on her shoulders for her family’s well-being wasn’t hers alone anymore. Yet, somehow, she felt as if he’d betrayed her by going behind her back and making the decision without her input. “I should have been invited to the proceedings and asked my opinion on such an appointment.”
The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses Page 10
