The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(26)
“If Mrs. Oliver believes it’s not spoiled.” She forced herself to hold his gaze. It was mortifying to acknowledge the extent of their destitution. Her father, the previous viscount, had been a well-respected member of the government’s foreign office and had served England unselfishly in his tenuous work with the United States. More importantly, he’d been a loving, doting father. He’d have been horrified if he knew his children’s fate. Reason rallied as it always did when the circumstances of their poverty confronted her. As trustee, the marquess only had to sign a piece of paper resulting in their situation immediately rectified on the morrow. There was no use hiding the truth from him.
She dismissed the shame that had strolled into her conscience and was currently holding court with her thoughts. “What we ate tonight … should have lasted all week.” She brought her injured hand down to rest in her lap. “If we don’t eat the rabbit, I’ll have to…”
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “How long have you been living like this?”
“When my parents died, I took over the estate and the bookkeeping. I was sixteen, almost seventeen. So, to answer your question, eight years.” She stole a glance at McCalpin’s face and immediately thought of an etching of Mount Etna her father had once shown her as a little girl. Immobile, the marquess possessed a look of impassiveness tinted with an unpredictability that could erupt at any moment.
“We had a reserve of funds available but not enough to last through the year. I’ve managed to keep everyone fed and clothed, but this year”—she took a deep breath and held it for a second—“the roof was damaged during a winter storm. I had no recourse but to have it repaired, but it still needs additional work. If it wasn’t for your sister’s bank, I’m not certain what we would have done.”
His gaze bore into hers with a dispassionate expression she couldn’t decipher. If it was disgust, she couldn’t—no—wouldn’t allow herself to care. She’d done everything she could think of to protect Lawson Court and her family. Only when circumstances turned so dire had she started “borrowing” her own dowry funds using his signature. She tipped her chin up an inch.
He lifted one perfect eyebrow. The gesture made him look more handsome than any man had a right to be. “You bank with my sister, Lady Somerton.” The words more of a statement than a question.
She nodded. “The countess has been my salvation over the last four months. She offered me employment at her bank, but I had to decline as our circumstances turned quite drastic.”
His eyes narrowed as he considered her. “Did you write Lord Burns? Tell him of your circumstance?”
She nodded slightly. “Over the years, he ignored my requests for help. He never once visited after my parents died.” She straightened in her chair. There was no use hiding the insidious predicament her family faced. “My cousin, Rupert Lawson, has taken an interest in Julia. I’m not in favor of his attentions toward my sister. He wants to become the family’s guardian. It’ll allow him unlimited access to our funds. I’m not certain there would be any left when they come of age.”
“The next in line to inherit your brother’s title wants to be his guardian and manage the estate? No court would ever agree to such an appointment.” The incredulous look on his face would have been comical, but the truth was far from funny.
“Be that as it may, my siblings don’t have a guardian and no one has responsibility for Lawson Court, so he could easily petition the court.” By now, small tinges of pain had taken up residence in her fingers. It wouldn’t be long before her hand started to throb once again. “The solicitors that my father employed for his legal work were incompetent, to say the least. The inferior work is rife throughout all his directives for our care. You only have to review my trust document for proof.”
He pursed his lips at that innuendo.
“Rupert views Faith and me as tainted goods. Faith because of her injury, and me because I work the fields and care for the estate. Rupert’s interested in Julia is the best means to acquire our monies. There’s nothing to keep him from kidnapping her and taking her to Scotland. She’s a loyal girl, and if Rupert could make her believe it would be the best scenario for the family, she’d sacrifice herself for us.”
She swallowed but refused to turn away from his direct gaze. By the time he left, he’d know every one of her secrets. “The money I’ve tried to take from my trust will be used to launch Faith and Julia in society. They deserve the opportunity to make a match that will provide them with security and an escape from the hellish existence that we’ve lived under for the last eight years.”
He nodded and rewarded her with a gentle smile that transformed him from handsome to heart stopping. She rose gently and attended the fire with her right hand. The simple task would distract her from his overwhelming presence.
Never before had such masculine perfection graced their home. With broad shoulders and a chest that narrowed to slim hips, he reclined in a manner that reminded her of a deadly panther relaxed but with a hidden strength that could strike in an instant. She’d seen that look countless times when Maximus would relax in the sun, soaking up its warmth. However, the slight twitch of his tail warned that he was always hunting as he had lazed about—just like the slow tapping of the marquess’s finger against the arm of the chair.