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—”
“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 winner 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 with 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.
How in God’s teeth could he discover the truth about who was embezzling from the estates? The weight on his shoulders grew by a hundred stone.
Then the truth hit him square between the eyes. He was going to lose March and couldn’t prevent it from happening. A blinding pain cascaded through him.
Before the carriage slowed to a halt beside the Langham Hall mews, his father jumped into the carriage and joined them. Without a glance at McCalpin, he drew his wife into his arms. “Ginny, I would have come for you.”
The tremble of her lips betrayed the sincerity of her smile. “I needed Michael today,” she whispered.
His father pressed a kiss against her forehead, then brushed his index finger across her cheek in a tender caress. “My lovely, lovely duchess,” he soothed as he rocked her in his arms.
In that intimate moment, McCalpin realized what he’d miss in his life if he couldn’t find a way to keep March from leaving. A partner and a wife who would love unconditionally and protect his interests with everything she possessed.
His father’s gaze swept to his as he settled his wife into the crook of his arm. “I received a letter from March today. Erlington bequeathed part of his woolen mill fortune to her. It’s worth roughly fifty thousand pounds. She’s signed it over to you. She says it’s to pay for the monies that are missing. She didn’t apologize or seek forgiveness. Just the directive that any remaining amounts are to be equally split between her siblings.”
“Fifty thousand pounds?” he whispered. It was inconceivable.
“She could’ve had any man in London with that fortune.” His father pulled his mother closer.
Inside McCalpin’s chest, a demon warrior rose, one ready to defeat any man who wanted her. She was his.
“But she wanted you to have it,” his mother whispered. “For you and for her sisters and her brother.”
He released the breath he’d been holding. Soon an ocean would separate them, and this rift between them would never heal.
His father narrowed his eyes, oblivious to the unease running amok through McCalpin. With his free hand, he held up three fingers. “How many fingers?”
He exhaled. He may be in turmoil, but he still possessed all of his senses. “Three.”
His father nodded, then pulled the familiar red accounting book from his pocket. “What is this?”
He snarled by reflex. If his father had examined the entries, he had discovered the extent of McCalpin’s debilitating failure with numbers. “My bookkeeping.”
“Excellent. I was afraid you couldn’t see what was right before your eyes,” his father taunted. “You left it in the entry hall, and Pitts found it. Turn to the last page of entries.”
McCalpin reached to take it from his father’s outstretched hand, then hesitated. As if today and tomorrow weren’t enough punishment, now he had to withstand the disappointment he’d surely find in his father’s eyes once he realized what a simpleton he had for a son. “You are aware that I suffer from an inability to do even the simplest calculations?”
“Do it,” his father demanded.
Wary, he opened the red-leather journal and flipped to the last page of entries. His gaze skimmed the last column of numbers until his eyes fixated upon the writing so similar to his but with a distinct feminine slant and curls to the letters.
My dearest love,
Last night in your arms and your bed, you gave me a gift I never thought to receive or experience in my life. Your tenderness and care proved that I could have the happiness in my life that I thought I’d lost. My thoughts are in a jumble as my lips still crave your kisses, but you must know that you own my heart and all my soul. I want to shout it to the world, that I, March Lawson, love you, Michael Cavensham, without reserve or caution. With complete and total abandon, I freely give you my heart. Whatever you choose to do with it is your prerogative, but I will not deny my love. Ever.
However, the greatest present you’ve ever given me—besides asking me to be your wife—is the trust you’ve shown when you shared yourself and what you perceive as your failings. Know I cherish your trust, and I will proudly stand by your side everyday as you work. I promise I’ll do everything and anything in my power to help you with the financial aspects of the estate, your political work, and every glorious moment in your life.
I’ll keep your every secret and guard your trust fiercely. It’s my greatest gift to you as I love you more than life itself.
Yours forever,
M
He closed his eyes in a desperate attempt not to cry out as he leaned against the carriage bench squab. At Lawson Court, she’d asked him if he’d read the journal. He called it tripe. What had he done? She must think he didn’t care what she’d written. His beautiful, giving March had been loving and protecting him just as fiercely as she did her siblings. “How stupid could I have been?”
“That’s only true if you don’t try to win her back,” his father said without a hint of mockery or disdain.
“How can I? I’m an idiot when it comes to numbers.” He was so lost he didn’t think he’d be able to find his way out of the carriage. He didn’t even care that he was speaking so freely about his shortcomings with his parents.
His father grinned with an understanding that gave him hope. “My father suffered from something similar, but his duchess was gifted with figures. No one ever knew how much he relied on her for financial help. Together, they made the Langham duchy one of the most powerful and profitable titles in all of England.” His father kissed his mother tenderly on her cheek before he turned his attention to McCalpin. “You and March could have the same impact.”
“If we have even a fraction of the impact you and mother have, I’ll consider both the duchy and myself most fortunate.” McCalpin felt the heaviness in his chest slowly release. “Do you think you might be able to help me?”
His father nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”
They couldn’t waste any additional time. He had to find out who was embezzling from them. As McCalpin reached to open the carriage door a piece of paper stuck in the household bookkeeping journal floated to the ground. He picked it up and examined the numbers. Jameson’s note listed the entries for the amounts that March had embezzled from the trust. The handwriting was of little distinction except the dashes decorating the sevens and the decorative serifs atop the ones screamed for his attention.
As if the night turned into the day, the answer became crystal clear.
“I need to see Macalester. I know who’s stolen from us.”