The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(14)
“That’s not enough,” he said tersely, tightening his stance.
March remained standing. To sit would mean she was giving up her claim. “There are repairs that must be made to the tenant’s home, and our home was damaged in a winter storm. Some of the roof damage has been repaired, but the estate still owes money to some local businesses that have kindly extended credit.”
“You would use your own funds for these repairs and debts?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Lord Burns didn’t provide any monies last year. When he died, there was no one to give me money for the estate management. I have no other choice than to pay for it myself until I can choose a guardian for the estate.” She clasped her fingers together in a desperate attempt to gain control over her anger. “As there is no guardian to say otherwise, I’m opening our family townhouse this spring and will move my sisters and brother to London for the Season. My sisters are of such an age they should take their rightful place in society. Bennett, my little brother, inherited my father’s title and should experience the educational offerings only London can provide. Since you, sir, are in charge of my sisters’ monies also, I hope they aren’t prey to the same sort of mistakes rampant through my documents.”
A brief scowl shadowed Lord McCalpin’s face, and his lips thinned in displeasure. “If what you say is true, then I readily agree your situation warrants immediate attention. Allow me the opportunity of seeing the estate for myself. Is that too much to ask?”
He ran a hand down the length of his face. The effort seemed to eliminate some of his anger.
“Let me evaluate your requests for tenant repairs and the estate’s debts. The idea of bringing your family to London isn’t to be taken lightly. It’s a massive undertaking. That’s all I can promise today.”
“Sir, I’m not asking you to take over the estate. I’m asking for—”
Lord William placed several letters on the desk. March’s heart stopped mid-beat when she saw her forged requests for funds. Bile scourged her throat as her face heated with humiliation.
She could face anything except for the marquess’s beratement in front of Faith and Hart. For her shame to be made public to her family was a burden she didn’t think she could bear. McCalpin reached for the letters. Without a second thought, she placed her hand over his, a completely inappropriate gesture hidden from Faith and Hart. It made little difference at this point. He would ruin her if she didn’t stop him.
“Please, not in front of them,” she whispered, the words so faint she wasn’t certain she’d said them.
He continued to pull the documents toward him, but regarded her. It had to have been her imagination, but his eyes seemed to soften. She almost missed the slight dip of his chin in acknowledgment. His gaze went to his brother. Silently, they communicated with one another, and Lord William stood and walked to her sister and Hart.
“Miss Faith, there’s a lovely portrait of my late uncle, the previous Duke of Langham. When he was the Marquess of McCalpin, I understand he became a close friend of your father’s. May I show it to you? He was a handsome fellow. People say I favor him, and I’d like your opinion.”
Faith reluctantly nodded, and Hart rose to join them. Protective, he wouldn’t allow Faith to wander off with the young aristocrat without his presence. The trio left the room, and she found herself alone with the marquess. She sat back down in the chair and waited for her sentence.
*
“Do you know what these documents are?” McCalpin asked. By the absolute defeated expression on Miss Lawson’s face, he had his answer.
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“Did you forge my signature?”
She nodded gently, and a thick wave of dark brown—almost black—hair escaped from her simple chignon.
He regarded her carefully. Their earlier conversation had grown quite heated. What type of woman would dare impersonate him? One who must have spent hours practicing his signature. She had used his identity and his standing in society for her own purposes. Impersonating a noble was a high crime, and she’d done it anyway.
She wasn’t a classic English beauty by any means. She was more exotic in her looks. Her brown eyes sparkled with intelligence. Before he’d shown her the forged withdrawals, he’d found her stalwart confidence intriguing. He’d even found her earlier awkwardness over their second greeting charming.
Through it all, his title or wealth didn’t faze her. She only saw him as a stumbling block. Truth be told, he enjoyed going toe-to-toe with her. The rapier-quick retorts and bold challenges were refreshing.
“How did you get my seal?” he gently asked.
“My father kept all of your uncle’s letters. I found an intact wax seal of the Marquess of McCalpin and took it to a family friend who’s a retired engraver, and he made it for me.” She stared at her clasped hands and refused to look at him. “I kept your first letter of introduction as our new trustee. I used it to practice your signature.”
Her face had turned scarlet red. She was mortified. Instead of pleased that he’d received her confession, McCalpin hated that he made her feel such embarrassment. However, it was his responsibility to protect the family’s funds.
“Have you used it for anything besides withdrawals from your trust?” he asked.
She stiffened at the question, but managed to stare into his eyes. She shook her head. “Never. I would never harm you or my family. I only did it for my…”