The Luck of the Bride--The Cavensham Heiresses

by Janna MacGregor

  “I’d heard you were in London yesterday.” She pushed away from the door and straightened her shoulders.

  “He’s gone.” Hart’s voice cracked, but he presented a small smile. “Erlington’s not suffering anymore.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Hart opened his arms and, without hesitation, she flew into his embrace, intending to give comfort, but like the thief she truly was, she took every morsel offered.

  “Thank you.” He pulled away and tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. “Have you eaten?”

  She shook her head.

  Without hesitating, he escorted her to the modest but comfortable sitting room decorated in bold burgundy and navy, the favored colors of the viscountcy. Mrs. Oliver stood guard and welcomed her with her own hug before leaving and returning with a tray.

  Everything March tasted reminded her of paste, so she concentrated on her tea. Soon Hart had her on the sofa in front of a blazing fire.

  “Should we be wasting firewood like this? Just for the two of us?” God, she despised the constant worry over funds for the estate. Now with her new status as a social outcast and displaced from her old life, it became all the more critical to worry over money. She didn’t have the security her father had set aside for her, nor did she have access to the estate funds. What little food she ate twisted into a ball and bounced in her stomach. She didn’t own one shilling to her name. The only thing of value she possessed was her mother’s earrings.

  “Tonight, let’s not worry about such trivial matters,” Hart coaxed. “Tell me what happened in London.”

  Hart’s face was so earnest in his wish to share her troubles, she couldn’t refuse him. Perhaps if she told him the horror Rupert had inflicted when he confronted her at the ball, her old friend might have some insight why her father hadn’t provided any money for her.

  “What didn’t happen in London?” She bent her head until her chin rested on her chest. “Several days ago, we were attending a ball, and Julia’s suitor asked if he could visit and discuss his intentions to marry her.”

  He smiled. “You mean the perfectly estimable Lord Queensgrace?”

  She nodded. “Perfect” wasn’t the description she’d use, but she continued with her tale. “Rupert confronted me in a ballroom full of people and announced I was a bastard. He said he found proof in Chelmsford.” The horror of that night still gave her nightmares. She’d never forget the guests watching, almost thirsting for her annihilation. “I went to Chelmsford the next day, and what he said was true. I saw it with my own eyes. My parents were married five years after I was born.”

  Hart’s look of horror quickly transformed into doubt. “That’s preposterous. Your parents were married when I went to work for your father.”

  “How do you know?” The humiliating pain had never left her side since she found out the truth at the vicarage—except when she was with Michael. “I saw the marriage registry myself.”

  He opened his mouth to refute her charge, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “I am a bastard.” He shook his head, but she raised her hand to stop the denial. “But what I don’t understand is why would my father leave me money as his legal heir? I can’t fathom why he’d purposely hurt me.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Hart took her in his arms and squeezed. “Your mother and father were married. She always wore her ring. It was even a cause of conversation when we were over in the States. Women had never seen the color of gold your mother wore. Remember the red tint? Copper had been mixed with the gold?”

  She nodded in his arms. “Perhaps it served as a ruse to hide their true relationship. She wore it to protect father’s career.”

  “I doubt that,” he whispered. “Your mother had the kindest heart and loved your father. However, she would have never jeopardized your future happiness by having you out of wedlock. Neither would your father.”

  Hart’s warmth and embrace was a temporary haven from the ugliness she’d experienced over the last three days. He’d surely be disgusted when he heard the rest.

  “There’s more.” She tried to swallow the pain that was choking her. “I’ve done the unthinkable.” She pulled away from the security he offered and walked to the fireplace. By rote, she stirred the embers as she waited for the hiss of the fire to grow. “I started to embezzle from my trust account about three months ago. I had Mr. Garwyn copy the Marquess of McCalpin seal. Then I studied the first letter McCalpin sent me. I practiced until I had mastered his penmanship and his signature. I started to direct funds to be deposited into my account at E. Cavensham Commerce.”

  Hart shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Since I’m illegitimate, the funds I’ve taken from my trust aren’t mine. I’ve stolen from my siblings, and Michael and the duke think I’ve stolen from them.”

  She didn’t know how to explain it. How her life of struggle had turned into something magical, then without any warning, she’d lost everything.

  “Father entrusted the estate monies to Lord Burns, who in his old age completely forgot about his responsibilities to us. His solicitors didn’t care enough to check on our welfare. The amounts he sent dwindled to nothing. When he died, I contacted Lord McCalpin, but I didn’t hear from him. Therefore, I took matters into my hands. I was careful. The requests started out small. But it wasn’t enough after the massive damage we suffered this winter, so I directed one thousand pounds be deposited.”

  “Oh, March.” His whisper lashed at every speck of her self-control.

  She tipped her chin as she regarded him. “I was desperate. Besides, it’s my money.” She mockingly corrected herself. “At least, I thought it was my money. Once the marquess discovered my deception, that’s when he became involved and sought guardianship over the estate and the family. He told me I never had to worry again. He’d take care of things.”

  “He didn’t shy away from the responsibility. He was the reason I could leave you and take my place with Erlington. What happened next?” Hart coaxed.

  Until she tried to utter the words, she hadn’t truly grasped how difficult it would be. She tilted her head at the ceiling in an effort to harness the strength to confide the rest. “When I went to Chelmsford, Michael followed and took me back to his estate at McCalpin Manor. It was late and I was distraught…”

  When her gaze met his, she could see fire in his eyes. “What happened?”

  She swallowed and forced herself to continue, though her throat protested as if it’d been skinned raw. Heat rose until her cheeks felt ablaze and her eyes burned. “He asked me to marry him, and at first I agreed.” Hot tears streamed down her inflamed cheeks. The debilitating pain mimicked a hot poker piercing her chest. She gasped, but made herself continue. “I went to his room”—she closed her eyes to gather what little strength she could muster to finish—“to make certain he understood who I really was. I wanted him to realize that as a bastard and with the horrible accusations that Rupert had announced in public, I’d bring shame to him and my siblings. I couldn’t live with that.”

  “Sweetheart, if anyone can withstand that type of scandal, it’s a ducal heir. No one second-guesses them.”

  “No, Hart. You see, it’s worse than that. Rupert proclaimed in front of everyone that I was not only a bastard, but a thief.” Her voice weakened as the next words would wound her friend. “He said I harbored a known sodomite at Bennett’s estate.”

  With a loud exhalation, Hart ran his hand through his hair. “My God, you suffered because of me—”

  “No.” She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. “Don’t you dare say that. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d have been dead or worse—in a poor house or begging on the street. No one wanted or cared for us, but you did. You stayed with us. You allowed us to be a family.”

  Hart came to her and took both of her hands in his. “Go on.”

  “I thought about how Rupert’s accusations would hurt you and my family. He’d hurt Michael.” She smoothed her gown
to keep her hands from shaking. “I love him too much to see him damaged by Rupert’s action.” She curled her shoulders toward her chest. “So I went to Michael hoping to discuss what he’d have to look forward to if he married me. I—I was in his bedroom.”

  He squeezed her hands encouraging her to continue.

  “Hart—” She swallowed her humiliation in an attempt to force it to leave her be—at least until she finished. “I … we made love.”

  “That happens, sweetheart. It’s not uncommon for couples who are betrothed.” His voice didn’t carry any censure.

  “The next morning I woke up.” She searched his eyes hoping he’d understand. “I was so happy. For the first time in my life, I thought I might have a different life, the one I dreamed about when I was girl before we left for Brighton.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He surely realized her tale would turn ugly.

  “When we arrived in London the next day, I came here to Lawson Court and did some menial chores to clear my thoughts. Rupert was here crowing about how he’d found the seal and taken it to Michael’s solicitors. When I returned to Langham Hall, everything had changed. Michael had met with his solicitor and bookkeeper. A lot of money is missing from the accounts, and my seal and my practice papers were the instruments of the theft. It was my signature on the documents, but I hadn’t filled out the pages. Whoever did this had mastered the marquess’s handwriting, too.”

  “Did you explain?”

  She nodded and bit her lip to keep from crying out in agony. “I don’t think he believed me.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I really can’t say I blame him. I’d done it before, and I confessed it was my signature. What else could he believe?”

  She wiped a lone tear from her eyes. In seconds, Hart had her sitting in the sofa beside him.

  “I’m banished to Lawson Court until he decides what to do to me.”

  “Let me go talk to him,” he offered.

  “No. I don’t want you to be involved. It’s finished. Whatever happens, I deserve. I stole from him. It just wasn’t the amount that the bookkeeper insists is missing.”

  He embraced her. “Let me make this right. You need to be by your siblings’ sides.”

  Adamant in her refusal, she stood and shook her head. She wouldn’t divulge Michael’s secrets. Nevertheless, her actions prevented her from ever taking her place beside her siblings again. “My presence will ruin Faith and Julia. Michael will take care of them. After they marry, Bennett will come home.”

  He turned away, but not fast enough. Crimson colored his cheeks.

  “What is it?” Immediately, she dreaded asking the question.

  “You—” His voice softened in sympathy. “You have several notes from the merchants in Leyton. They no longer need your assistance in keeping their books.”

  Stunned, she couldn’t say a word. The rancid rumors had reached Leyton before she did. Her plans to rebuild her life were destroyed. She’d thought to start a full-time bookkeeping business in Leyton and use those wages as a way to pay the money back from the trust she’d borrowed.

  “Oh.” That’s all she could manage when the truth assailed her.

  She wasn’t simply ruined.

  She was a pariah.

  Earlier, when she disembarked the Langham carriage, the laborers close to the house didn’t acknowledge her or even look her way in greeting. People she’d known all her life looked through her as if she were invisible. She’d been cut before, but never from the kinsfolk she’d been raised to respect and taught to be kind to.

  “Let me pay it back,” he offered.

  Confused, she searched his face. “How could you?”

  Hart dipped his head and studied his entwined hands. “Erlington left me his holdings in the United States. He has a collection of wool mills in Massachusetts worth over two hundred thousand pounds. I had no idea he had that type of fortune.”

  She shook her head at the heady sum. Hart’s wealth exceeded most of the nobles in the aristocracy. “That’s yours?”

  “Not all of it. Erlington gave you twenty-five percent.”

  “What?” Her pulse raced at such an unimaginable figure. “Fifty thousand pounds?”

  “Indeed.” Sadness dulled his smile. They both would have preferred if Hart’s lover was still alive and in possession of his own fortune. “He wanted you to have it. He shared he’d never forget your kindness and how loving you were to us. His brother, the Marquess of Haviland, will not fight Erlington’s wishes.” He took one of her hands and squeezed. “Haviland was there, and I’m relieved to say we both appreciated each other’s company during Erlington’s final days.”

  “I’m sure you both brought each other comfort during the most difficult of times,” she whispered.

  “Come to Boston with me,” he offered.

  “What?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

  “You could be my bookkeeper and help manage the mills. You know wool and have experience negotiating prices. We can run them together.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “What if you’re carrying his child?” Hart asked softly. He didn’t mean to wound her, but the words stole her breath.

  “No, it can’t be.” She shook her head in denial. Her luck couldn’t be that bad. She moaned at the unfairness of it all. Yes, luck had always been a fickle friend.

  “Either way, it would allow you a new life, a new opportunity to find happiness. You could come live with me.”

  His offer was sincere and proof that March had one friend she could rely on. Yet, she couldn’t fathom leaving Faith, Julia, and Bennett to face the wreckage she had caused.

  As if hearing her thoughts, Hart added, “It might give some much needed distance between your siblings and the scandal. You could return to Lawson Court in a year or so.”

  “You think it wise?” she whispered.

  “Yes. McCalpin promised he’d take care of them for you.” He kissed her cheek and stood. “I’m leaving in two days. Consider it. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Once again, her gaze drew to the fire as if Hell called for her. What choice did she have? She had no place here in England—no safe sanctuary and no one to help her except for Hart.

  Suddenly, Maximus jumped and settled on her lap. With a soft purr, he gently kneaded her legs as if offering comfort.

  She closed her eyes to stop the onslaught of tears as she stroked his soft fur. She’d have to leave her family with Michael.

  She’d already left her heart with him.

  And he didn’t want it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After Bennett’s visit, McCalpin had spent the rest of the night in his study mulling over the events of the day. March disavowed any guilt except the trust fund thefts and the use of his seal to keep Rupert off the Lawson lands. However, when she’d turned to him and demanded his promise to care for her family, it hadn’t set right with him. Almost as if she was leaving him.

  He’d hurt her when he’d sent her away, but it was best for both of them. It protected her and her family somewhat from the critics. For him, he’d hoped he could clear his thoughts. After last night, his mind was still swimming with all the revelations.

  When morning came, he rang the bell and ordered a bath, then directed Donar saddled. He promised Bennett he’d visit March and see how she was faring. He’d do more than that. He’d press her until he discovered what thoughts were rolling around in that beautiful head of hers. Chocolate waves of curls twined about his fingers crowded into his thoughts. His body tightened in response to the image.

  He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax as he remembered holding her sweet body next to his. He’d taken her virginity. No matter what, he was an honorable man. He’d still marry her.

  Within an hour, he found March standing guard on the crest of a hill overlooking the valley that bordered Lawson Court and the next farm. Decorating the landscape, white sheep with black faces dotted the slopping hill’s dormant grass. He
brought Donar to a halt. The wind howled in concert with the cold winter day as he gazed his fill at the sight of her.

  Without delay, he urged his horse forward. Before he could dismount, the sound of Donar shaking his bridle caused her to turn. Tears streamed down her face. The look of anguish so acute he tasted her bitter torment.

  In that moment, a part of him withered as pain wracked through him in waves. Deep inside his chest where his heart resided, he knew the truth.

  He’d destroyed a part of her.

  * * *

  At the sound of a jangle of a bridle, March turned, fully expecting Hart. He wanted her decision whether she’d come to Boston with him.

  Instead, Michael stood before her more beautiful than ever. She catalogued his features carefully so she could remember them perfectly during the lonely days ahead. The task proved difficult as her recalcitrant tears refused to obey.

  With grace and quickness, he dismounted and moved toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. She didn’t know how it happened, but she was in his arms with her head buried against his chest. His arms tightened as her tears turned into sobs.

  “Oh, sweetheart, don’t,” he whispered.

  It was pure bliss in his arms, as if everything would return to the way it was before yesterday. She stole one more moment of comfort before she forced herself from his embrace. “Why are you here?”

  The startling blue of his eyes contrasted perfectly with the gray winter day. An omen he could steal the cold and loneliness that had captured her heart. She blinked to clear such silly nonsense. Her fate had been cast when everyone believed she’d stolen from him.

  “I promised Bennett I would see how you’re faring,” he whispered as he framed her cheeks in his hands.

  “I’m fine.” With all her practice, the lie slipped easily from her lips.

  He gently traced the angles of her cheeks with his thumbs. The leather of his gloves teased her skin, reminding her how safe she felt in his arms. “You don’t appear fine.”

  “It’s hard to say good-bye.” She took a step back. Her gaze skimmed the muddy hem of her cloak. Walking the fields for hours, she’d tried to memorize each hill and valley of the estate. Always, her thoughts circled back to Michael. “I’m leaving for Boston with Hart tomorrow.” She lifted her head and waved a hand behind her at the hill. “I wanted one final walk—”