The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(18)
“I’ll do anything to help you. You know that,” William offered.
His brother’s simple words conjured up a long-ago memory that never ceased to haunt McCalpin.
He would steal away into the nursery and laboriously work on his numbers. Sitting for hours, he tried to win the battle of learning to add and subtract correctly. One day, William had completed an assignment within a half-hour, and his reward was an extended riding lesson.
Finding the task almost impossible, McCalpin had refused to cry in front of anyone. After several hours alone, he let the tears slip free. The hot splashes fell to the paper, causing the ink to run like black rivers and ruining his work. He’d worked all morning and had only completed half of the assignment.
His governess Mrs. Ivers hated him for his inability to do the calculations. When she found him staring at a page of incomprehensible scribblings, she’d taken a ruler to his knuckles.
“Your father would be better served if you were locked away in some remote tower on one of his lesser estates.” Her haughty voice paralyzed him, and he couldn’t move or protest. “I should tell His Grace that his precious heir is nothing more than a dullard incapable of counting his monthly allowance.”
She’d broken the skin of his knuckles, and pain seared a path across his hand. However, he vowed not to flinch—he’d not give her the satisfaction.
She struck him again and sneered. “If you can’t master these simple tasks, you’ll never learn your multiplication tables much less how to manage the duchy. You’ll be the Duke of Langham in name only. Someone else will be pulling your strings and running the duchy.”
She raised the ruler once again. He closed his eyes hoping it would lessen the stinging torment. The familiar whiz of air hissed as the ruler flew through the air, and he tightened his gut in readiness.
But the piercing pain never occurred.
A small wee hand covered his.
When he opened his eyes, William stood between them.
“That is the last time you hit my brother.” The quiet determination on William’s face made him appear years older than seven. “When I tell our father you’ve struck the marquess, I have little doubt you’ll be looking for a new position this afternoon.”
Incredulous, Mrs. Ivers’ mouth gaped open. Without another word, she spun on her heel and ran from the room.
As if nothing evil had happened, William placed an orange before him. “Riding lessons aren’t any fun if you’re not there.”
McCalpin laid his head on his arms to hide the tears that now streamed down his face. Once under control, he wiped his eyes. There was nothing to hide as they both knew he couldn’t do his assignments. “You shouldn’t have done that. What if she turns her ire on you?”
“She won’t be here.” William had peeled the orange and had placed the fruit before McCalpin. “I’ll never let you suffer like that again. From now on, I’ll always be by your side.”
The memory of his brother’s staunch defense that day still had the power to make McCalpin’s throat tighten.
“You’re not going to like what I have to say, but”—William’s deep tenor brought him out of his reverie—“perhaps you should think about marrying someone with enough intelligence and interest in politics that she could help you.”
“A wife?” McCalpin clenched the brandy, but thankfully the leaded glass didn’t shatter. “And how shall I go about finding this paragon? Take out an ad in The Midnight Cryer? ‘Ducal heir who can’t add two numbers seeks a diamond of the first water with implicit deportment, political savvy, and the analytical skills of an advanced mathematician as his future duchess.’”
William strode to the settee in front of the fireplace and sat with a dejected plop. “I’m not trying to start a fight.”
“Are you tiring of our arrangement, Will?” A knot rose in McCalpin’s throat.
“Absolutely not. I’ll always help you.” William rose to face him. “A wife would be a helpmate with all the trappings that comes with being the Marchioness of McCalpin.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “One day you’ll be the Duke of Langham. The perfect duchess would make your life not only more pleasant, but she could help you shoulder the responsibility.”
William had always been McCalpin’s best friend and greatest champion. Whatever was of interest to McCalpin always became a shared interest with William. When they were growing up, his younger brother always followed him around, mimicking his movements. William had made their childhood a fond memory. Time after time, they shared adventures with the accompanying scrapes and bruises.
William had never displayed or hinted that he envied it was McCalpin and not him who was their father’s heir. Their travails in the classroom under the tutelage of Mr. Maxwell were only bearable because of William. He always helped McCalpin in his assignments and never tormented him over his difficulties.
Neither did Mr. Maxwell. When reports were required of the boys’ and Emma’s progress, the tutor had focused on the areas where McCalpin excelled—languages, literature, and logic.
The kind tutor had been one of the most influential people in McCalpin’s early life. When he’d struggled with a lesson, Mr. Maxwell had patiently sat and broken the problem into several tasks that made it easier for him to understand. They’d practiced the more difficult ones repeatedly. The tutor had once confided his younger sister found reading as difficult as McCalpin’s constant struggles with numbers. The learning strategies he’d developed for her were ones he applied to McCalpin, and it resulted in one of the few times in McCalpin’s life he didn’t feel as if he needed to hide his shortcomings.