The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(15)
What could his little embezzler possibly say to justify her behavior?
“We needed new shears, or I couldn’t finish shearing the sheep. I need to sell that wool to cover our household expenses.” His lips trembled for a moment before she continued. “The estate isn’t profitable.”
He gazed at her in disbelief. “You shear the sheep on the estate?”
“Yes. Hart helps if he’s at Lawson Court, but he travels frequently. Besides, I’m faster than he is and can shear two sheep to his one.” When she swallowed, the movement emphasized her long neck.
He collapsed in his chair and stared at the woman. It was inconceivable what she was claiming. She was the daughter of a well-respected member of the nobility.
“I understand how trite this must sound, but I’m truly sorry I used your identity.” Her eyes dipped to her lap. Whatever she studied must have given her courage since she soon met his gaze. “Lord Burns had control over Lawson Court and was never generous.” She drew a deep breath. “For the past several years, he didn’t see fit to give us much money. When I learned he’d passed, I wrote to you as the successor—”
Buxton entered the room. “I beg your pardon, my lord. Lord and Lady Pembrooke have arrived.”
After a slight nod to the butler, McCalpin’s attention returned to the woman seated in front of him. “Miss Lawson, the hour grows late, and I have other duties that demand my attention. I’ll visit Lawson Court as soon as possible. I trust we’re in agreement that you’re not to write any more requests using my seal.”
“But—”
He wouldn’t let her have a word edgewise. “Immediately, I think it best that you have someone deliver your copy of my seal to me. You’ll find I’m generous to a fault, but I won’t tolerate foolishness or any more of your shenanigans. If you or your family needs something, I invite you to come and seek my advice. I won’t turn down any reasonable requests.”
“Is it possible I could have some money now?” She exhaled as if the weight of the world had been set on her shoulders. “You see I need—”
“From what I’ve learned today, I think it best if any disbursements wait until I have the opportunity to review the estate and learn more about you and your family.” He lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Her eyes glistened with tears.
Oh God, he’d done it. He’d made her cry.
“Miss Lawson, there’s no harm done,” he said quietly. “The amounts you took were miniscule. When I visit, I’ll see what repairs are required. That’s all I can offer at this point. You shouldn’t spend your money on the estate. Your father wanted you or your husband to have it.”
She nodded once, then stood. Without any farewell, she turned and left the room.
In his twenty-nine years, he’d accumulated his fair share of experiences with women of all ages and personalities. Never once did he ever remember bringing one to tears.
It was something he hoped never to experience again.
He felt lower than the mud in a carriage rut.
*
Lord McCalpin had issued his dismissal, and March couldn’t wait to escape. Tears welled in her eyes at his denial of her request. She should have argued more but her pride had stopped her. They were in desperate need of wood and food at Lawson Court. Now, she had no way to get any funds. To wait another year felt like a lifetime. Decorum wouldn’t feed her family, but it kept her from falling into a ball and weeping for the rest of the day. Even that selfish luxury was out of her reach. She still had to muck the barn and repair the plow horses’ tack.
She spun toward the exit, determined to gather Faith and Hart as quickly as possible. She walked with as much dignity as she could muster as she left the marquess’s presence. When she entered the vestibule, a handsome couple looked her way.
The auburn-haired woman held a bundled baby close to her chest, and her beautiful face glowed with happiness. She reached up on tiptoes to whisper something to her equally handsome husband. He laughed and wrapped an arm about her waist to pull her close. His finger traced a gentle line down the baby’s cheek.
March’s humiliation slightly melted at the sight of two people so obviously in love and delighted with their infant. She had always envisioned such a life for herself—a loving husband and a family of her own. Now, that dream was what she wanted for Faith and Julia—a love, strong and true.
The woman smiled as if she and March were dear friends. Suddenly, the woman started toward her as if she wanted to address her, so March stopped and waited.
The woman’s happiness seemed to light her from within and grew in vibrancy the closer she got. With no warning, she rushed passed without a second look in March’s direction and called, “McCalpin, you’re home!”
Heat flamed her cheeks again. She’d mistaken the friendly gesture for herself. Trying not to draw attention, she watched the group’s exchange.
The marquess greeted the couple with a warm embrace to the woman and a handshake to her husband. “What mischief did you and Pembrooke bring me today?” McCalpin’s voice echoed with true affection as he peeked at the baby and smiled. “William is roaming the halls somewhere. He’ll be delighted to see you, too.”
Aware that she was rudely staring, March turned her attention to Faith and Hart, who had joined her to watch the happy reunion. “I’m ready,” she whispered.