The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(25)

She relived the kiss he bestowed upon her in the kitchen. Her lips still burned from the touch. Another example of his kindness, but one that didn’t mean anything more than what it represented. She was a sheep farmer, and he had simply tried to relieve her pain and squelch her fear with a harmless flirtation.

“Miss Julia, that question begs a thousand answers. During the day, I take an early morning ride in town for exercise. Then I return to work on the business of my father’s estates. It’s only in the evenings that I have cause to enjoy all the wonders of London’s offerings.…”

His words trailed to silence as Maximus, Bennett’s monstrous black cat, stopped all conversation as he strolled into the room, making a grand entrance. Bigger than a lapdog and most felines, his size and speed served him well. He was the best mouser they had. With raised eyebrows, McCalpin regarded the cat as it promenaded through the dining room. He gently placed his napkin beside his plate and devoted his full attention to the spectacle taking place.

With a saunter that any London dandy would envy and his tail straight in the air, the cat regally paraded through the room as he made his way to Bennett and their guest. A small animal—a very dead small animal—dangled from his jaws. With an elegant pause worthy of a king, Maximus regarded McCalpin with his startling golden eyes. The black cat must have found him worthy of his offering. With great fanfare that would rival a volley of trumpets announcing the Prince Regent, Maximus dropped the small rabbit to the ground, then blinked.

Bennett’s eyes grew round, and a laugh escaped. “Lud! Maximus! What a catch!” Her brother’s gaze shot to the marquess. “We’ll eat well tomorrow, McCalpin. Rabbit stew for dinner. Would you care to join us?”

“Bennett, no!” March didn’t hide the strong rebuke.

“Why? We have food for tomorrow. Why shouldn’t we share our good fortune?” Completely oblivious of the awkwardness he and his cat had created, Bennett left his chair, then petted his charge. “Nice work, boy.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” March bit out as she directed her gaze to Julia in a signal for her sister to remove the poor rabbit.

The cat had the audacity to purr loud enough that his low rumblings echoed through the room. One giant paw shot out and tapped the carcass twice as if tempting it to move so he could pounce again and repeat his performance.

Julia jumped away from the table, upsetting her chair. “Eww, that’s disgusting.”

Without glancing at anyone, Faith got up from the table and picked up the rabbit with her napkin. With halting steps, she left the room and turned left. There was little doubt she was delivering the rabbit to Mrs. Oliver for a determination if they could dine on it tomorrow.

Heat assaulted March once again as she couldn’t deny the truth. Indeed, if Mrs. Oliver declared it eatable, tomorrow, they would dine on rabbit stew and be thankful for Maximus’s hunting prowess.

McCalpin’s gaze locked with hers. She tried to swallow her mortification.

Of all the days for that feline, who believed they all served him instead of the other way around, to present his latest kill, today was not the day. Then, for Bennett practically to announce their poverty?

This was an unmitigated disaster of epic proportions.

“Miss Lawson—” The steel in McCalpin’s voice cut her to the bone.

“Shall we continue our discussion in Bennett’s study?” If he started to lecture her in front of her family, she’d fall to pieces. Her family hadn’t a clue the true level of their destitution. After everything that had happened today, she’d not withstand a withering diatribe about her family’s circumstances. She already felt like a failure, one who couldn’t provide for her loved ones. Today made Rupert’s words all the more bitter. If she didn’t do something soon, Julia would be married to that fiend and they’d all be under his thumb. Her sweet little sister would make such a sacrifice if she believed it would help the family.

An involuntary shudder passed through March. Under no circumstances would she allow Julia to marry Rupert. It was a vow she intended to keep.

“I’ll join you,” Bennett said.

“No, Lawson. Allow me a private conference with your sister,” the marquess announced in a voice that would brook no argument.

“But it’s my study,” Bennett grumbled still petting the cat.

*

March held her hand above her heart to lessen the throbbing pain stealing her breath. The strong scent of spirits wafted toward her. McCalpin held a flask to her.

“Take a sip, Miss Lawson.” The sharp edge in McCalpin’s voice warned he’d not abide any argument from her. “You’re as pale as a ghost in November.”

March blew out a breath and took the silver flask. The fumes burned her nose, but she took a drink and immediately started to cough. The heat of the liquid burned her throat as she swallowed. McCalpin nodded his head, encouraging her to take another swallow. Without arguing, she complied.

McCalpin took the Louis XV chair across from her. His mammoth size dwarfed the frame, and the chair creaked in protest at his invasion. He regarded her with a calm expression as if it was completely natural to share a flask of brandy with her after dinner.

“Thank you,” she whispered. The searing pain in her hand started to ease. “I must apologize—”

“Will you eat the hare tomorrow as your brother indicated?” The sound of his voice echoed like the retort of a pistol.