The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(103)

“Well, since your crimes are not only against me and the duchy, but also harm Miss Lawson, she should have a say in what becomes of you.” McCalpin’s chest tightened. He rubbed the middle of his forehead and closed his eyes to consider this development. He’d fully expected to find a selfish, self-centered criminal who’d preyed upon March and his family. Instead, he found a man desperate to care for his son. Still, it didn’t excuse the havoc the bookkeeper had created in McCalpin’s and, more importantly, March’s life.

“Macalester, will you stay with Jameson until Miss Lawson and I decide how we wish to proceed with this matter?” He didn’t spare a glance at Jameson. “Perhaps, it’d be beneficial to determine if he’s telling the truth about his son.”

McCalpin had never seen anything but a cool demeanor from the Scotsman. With a face made of stone, the investigator nodded. Did the man even have a heart? Probably not a useful tool in his bag of investigative tricks.

“I’ll send someone to visit the family,” said Macalester.

“I need to see Miss Lawson straightaway with the news we’ve discovered tonight.”

“Go ahead, my lord. I’ll handle everything from this end,” the investigator added.

Without delay, he set off to find March and share his discovery. His mother had sent word March was spending the night at the Lawson townhome before setting sail in the morning.

If he had any luck, he hoped tonight’s discovery would be enough to keep her here in London and win back her good graces. Whatever it took, he’d convince her to stay and become his wife.

*

Once again, Michael haunted March’s dreams. Only this time, his fresh pine fragrance became vivid when he kissed her on the cheek. When had her dreams become a sensual feast of scents?

“March, my love, wake up,” the dream Michael whispered.

She sat up with a start. It wasn’t a dream, but the flesh-and-blood man. Michael sat on the edge of the bed with his hip resting against hers. He leaned close, touching his lips to hers with the gentlest of kisses.

Sweet heavens, how she’d miss—

“Are Faith, Julia, and Bennett all right?” The words tumbled from her before all her senses fully awoke. She blinked at the candle lit beside her. Michael must have seen to it.

“They’re fine, my love.” He dipped his head again for another kiss, this one longer with a hint of passion mixed with the taste of mint and fresh air.

“How did you get in here?” Still a little groggy, she pushed the mass of tangles away from her face. Instantly, he cupped her face, and his thumbs caressed her cheeks.

“There you are,” he whispered. “Hart let me enter. I have to share what I discovered tonight. It couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

She leaned into his hand as if famished for his touch. Before she got on that ship, at least she’d be able to give him a proper good-bye without the anger and anguish of their last meeting.

“I found the person stealing from me.” His eyes were so tender in their gaze, a quiver started in her chest and radiated throughout her body.

“Tell me.”

“The bookkeeper, Jameson.” With his other hand, he’d taken hers and laced their fingers together as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He studied their entwined hands. “It’s a sad story of why he did it, dearest. We’ll save it for later. We have much more important things to discuss.”

He drew a breath and kissed her slowly as if savoring something precious, then gently pulled away.

“Jameson prepared a list of all your withdrawals from your trust account and gave it to me. All the ones and sevens were marked with dashes and unique serifs. That’s how I discovered he was the thief. You solved it, sweetheart.” He stopped abruptly and held her gaze. “Will you forgive me?”

She could only nod as she battled not to get her hopes up.

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and exhaled a shuttering breath, then reached into the pocket of his evening coat. “I found these in Jameson’s home. They’re the original documents that belonged in your family’s files along with the trusts. He’d stolen them from the solicitor’s office.”

He handed the papers to her. The first was a marriage certificate. She quickly gazed at the date and the names, then captured his gaze. He smiled, and she looked at the other, the angry letter from her father to her grandfather for not recognizing her parents’ Gretna Green marriage. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears of joy came from nowhere. “Does that mean…?”

Did she dare hope this nightmare might be over for her and Michael and her family? When he nodded, she leaned against his chest. His arms immediately surrounded her.

“Sweetheart, look at the last one.”

She leaned away and studied the letter from her father to her grandfather announcing her birth—after her parents’ marriage and proving she was twenty-five. Finally, she had every piece to the puzzle—the reason they married in Chelmsford and proof of her legitimacy.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No. I’m the one who should thank you.” Michael’s voice soothed her with its huskiness. He cradled her head and coaxed her to lean into his strong chest, his scent and strength overpowering in his embrace. “After I left you at Lawson Court, I didn’t know where to turn or what to do. I was beside myself with grief and misgiving. I didn’t know how to repair the damage between us. Believe it or not, it was my mother who helped me.”