The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(31)
“What do we do if Rupert visits before Hart returns?” The slight tremor in Julia’s voice caused March’s heart to skip a beat.
“Perhaps it’s better for all of us if you stay with Mr. and Mrs. Garwyn.” She reached over and grasped Julia’s hand. “You’ll be safe until Hart returns. Agreed?”
Julia sighed in relief. “Agreed. I’ll be glad when we can all be together again.”
“Me too,” Faith shared.
“Me three,” March chimed in.
Deep inside, a faint flame of hope ignited. She’d be thrilled to see her David, too. The quicker she could open the townhouse, the faster they all could be together again.
Chapter Eight
It took every ounce of restraint McCalpin possessed not to bellow to the rafters. Instead, he called for his carriage then reread the barely legible note from Lord Lawson.
McCalpin,
I’m delighted to inform you that March is opening the family’s my London townhouse at this very moment. My family and I will arrive in London as soon as possible follow shortly.
It was the next sentence that sent McCalpin’s blood boiling.
We My sisters and I hide hid at the smithy’s home until Hart returned from delivering March. I feared our cousin Rupert might descend upon Lawson Court and devour our new surplus of food. Thankfully, he stayed away. Once Hart arrived, we all felt safe again. When March has everything in order, she’ll send for us.
In case your you are wondering, Maximus will stay at Lawson Court with Mrs. Oliver. He throws a fit when forced to travel in our cart. He catched caught another hare. This time we did not eat it. Thank you for the food.
In closing, I’d like to extend an invitation to dine with me again. I can’t wait to see March, and I look forward to seeing you at your earliest convenience conveneince convenience.
Yours,
Lawson
P.S. I guess I spelled convenience correctily the first time.
McCalpin fumed as he shared the young viscount’s exact sentiments. He couldn’t wait to find the viscount’s oldest sister. Once he found her safe and sound, he would wring her pretty little neck, then he’d give her a lecture she wouldn’t soon forget.
Only he couldn’t shake the deep-seated worry that twined like a spiky vine in his chest. Who was keeping March safe?
No one, since she was alone in London.
When he stepped out of the carriage, darkness had descended on London. The cold winter night had swallowed the last hints of the sunset. The star-filled sky was clear with a crisp bite as a gentle wind whipped his fur-lined cloak around his boots.
Somehow, with March, he seemed to take greater note of the passage of time. Only a quarter of an hour had passed since he’d received Bennett’s letter. Leaving his footman to close the carriage door, McCalpin stormed across the street toward the Lawson townhouse that straddled the Mayfair and St. James areas of London.
As he approached the modest but elegant home, he slowed his gait. Simple plain lines with minimal trim gave the abode a rather regal air about it. The bright red door welcomed visitors and was in striking contrast to the white stone fa?ade that lined the front.
It didn’t appear anyone was home as the house sat eerily silent and dark, but the attached knocker indicated the family would receive visitors. His gaze swept upward, then stopped when he caught the unmistakable glow of candlelight from a third-floor window. Someone was there, and he’d lay odds it was his little embezzler.
After a brisk knock, he waited a few moments then opened the door. She’d failed to take the necessary precautions of locking the entrance. Another item to address in her lecture.
Darkness eerily shrouded the entry, but the moon illuminated the staircase to his right. With quick steps, he proceeded to the second floor. On a small side table lay a candle and tinderbox. He made quick work of catching a flame, then proceeded to the third floor.
A thick carpet covered the hallway and muffled his footsteps. He paused when he came to the open door from where light spilled into the hallway. At first glance, it appeared that pandemonium had taken up residence within the room. Fabric and outdated evening gowns covered every inch of available space. Shoes, fans, reticles, and gloves lay sorted into various piles. An ornate cheval mirror, a massive piece of black lacquered wood with gold-foiled trim, stood in one corner of the room.
Amidst all the disarray, March gazed at her reflection while holding a faded ivory satin court dress to her body. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side. Swaying slightly, she held one arm around her waist and the other wrapped around the bodice of the dress. Lost in her dance, March hummed gently under her breath. Her fingers lightly stroked the embroidery pattern of pale-pink and green flowers that decorated the overskirt. The sensual picture she presented mesmerized him.
Her dulcet alto warmed the room with sounds that called him forward. She was so entranced in her thoughts she didn’t hear him approach. Slowly, she stopped her swaying as if her dance with her imaginary partner had ended. Her eyes fluttered open, and the gentle candlelight kissed her cheeks. At her serene expression accompanied by a slight blush, he took a deep breath. All thought escaped except for the vision before him.
At that moment, all he desired was to change places with the gown she clenched tightly to her body. The crushing need to sweep her into his arms pushed aside all reason. The urge to feast upon the sweet pout of her lips made him want to lose himself in her embrace. My God, she was a seductress without even knowing it. His little embezzler was temptation incarnate.