The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(2)

Her sister had every right to be terrified.

She was terrified. She swallowed, hoping it would hide her own fear and weepiness. Otherwise, Julia’s despair would erupt again.

Out of nowhere, Bennett whimpered, a sure sign he was miserable in Julia’s arms. Attempting to quiet his fussiness, the tiny girl bounced him up and down. The erratic motion infuriated the infant, and he let loose a bloodcurdling scream of outrage sure to make a banshee grimace.

“I just changed him, so he’s not wet.” Julia carefully passed the baby to March. “I suppose he’s hungry.”

March held the bundle close to her chest and walked a narrow path to and fro, all the while patting his back.

“March?” Julia whispered. “Who’ll take care of him?”

“I will.” The incessant use of her name grated her already thin hold on sanity, but her sister must feel the need to repeat it—over and over—as if it were a sacred prayer and would keep her safe.

Julia nodded just as though she understood a great maxim. “He’s your baby now, and you’re his mother.”

The innocent declaration tore the remaining shreds of March’s world asunder with the truth she couldn’t deny. This was her new life. She’d never escape this massive responsibility, not until her brother grew old enough to manage Lawson Court.

March took a deep breath to calm the anxiety that had wrapped itself tight around her heart. There was no earthly way she could manage the estate on her own. She’d already written her father’s London solicitor asking for help. Her father had established trusts and guardianships for all of them in the remote chance something like this would happen. Lord Burns, a friend of her late grandfather, would be appointed guardian for the family and the estate with the added responsibility of trustee for the Lawson children’s personal trusts.

To survive her own grief, March clung to the belief Lord Burns would act quickly, and all would be well.

Julia’s lips began to quiver. “M-March, I’m scared.”

“I know, Jules.” She nodded as tears burned her eyes. “Me, too. Nevertheless, we’re still a family. Whatever I have to do, we’ll stay together. I promise.”

“I believe you.” Her sister turned to leave, then pivoted on one small foot. “I’m sorry you don’t get to dance.”

“What?” Still pacing while comforting the infant with rhythmic pats, March allowed her full attention to fall on her sister. Over the last two days, her sister’s fitful musings ran the gamut from disabling grief to unhealthy giddiness. This sudden change was yet another example. Such extremes made it difficult for March to understand the little girl’s mood.

“Your spring.” Julia’s brow bunched into neat lines.

“My spring? I don’t understand.”

“Like summer, winter, and autumn.” The little girl wiped her nose on her sleeve, the remnants of her latest tears. “Momma told me all about it.”

The upcoming Season. “You mean my introduction into society?”

Her little sister nodded. “I’m sorry you won’t get to wear your pretty gown and slippers. Momma showed them to me the last time we were in London. The embroidered stockings were soft. They reminded me of our lambs’ wool.”

“Don’t worry about that. There are other things much more important.” She gently tapped Julia on her button nose while keeping the baby tucked close. “Like you.”

“If I get a spring, March, I’m giving it to you,” Julia declared.

“Thank you, Jules. That’s very generous.” Her sister was a dear—a very small and very scared dear soul.

March’s life had taken a different route, one she had no clue how to navigate or where to turn. Selfishly, she couldn’t deny her disappointment. She’d looked forward to the upcoming Season.

Over the last year, she’d dreamed about meeting other young women and men who would become her lifelong friends as they started their path to adulthood together. With her mother’s guidance, she would have learned how to become a proper young lady and a productive member of society. More importantly, she’d find a husband, one who would cherish and protect her just like her father had done for her mother.

A cold knot twisted in her stomach. What if she never married or found the happiness she had always considered her due?

She shook her head. She was worrying for nothing. Once Lord Burns contacted her, life would resume to a new normal. He’d come and see to their needs. He’d help replace the household staff who either had succumbed to the influenza or had quit after her parents’ death. Only Mrs. Oliver, the housekeeper, remained, and she was still recovering from her bout with the disease.

March would have her Season next year.

Such a thought didn’t bring much comfort. There was no use denying what she really wanted was for her parents to walk through the door and end their ordeal. Her mother would comfort the baby, and her father would lift Julia in the air and make her laugh. Faith would join them with her ever-present book in hand. They’d all be a happy family once again. If there were a merciful God, he would find a way to turn back the clock two months.

She prayed for something that was inconceivable, and her heart shifted inside her chest in a poor attempt to escape the despair.

“So, you won’t leave us?” Julia’s reedy voice thinned and broke March’s reverie.