The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(33)

Suddenly, he understood the significance of what she was saying. “Your parents died.” His eyes searched hers. He wanted to know everything she’d lost and struggled with through those years she’d cared for her family.

She wrinkled her pert but exquisite nose. It was a desperate attempt to conceal her disappointment, but pain flashed in her eyes and ruined the effect. “It doesn’t make any difference. All that matters now is that Faith and Julia have the opportunity to make their introductions into society. Our family isn’t as grand as many of the ton families, but we come from a long line of viscounts that have given unselfishly to the crown. Anyone who makes a match with either of my sisters will be lucky.”

The power of her conviction pleased him. She was pragmatic, but well aware of the importance of family and the need to make respectable marriages for her sisters.

“It’s not too late for you to be introduced into society either.”

“Please.” Her eyes grew hooded, and she raised her fingers to his lips, the touch intimate. “Don’t spoil this moment for me.”

“You’ll not get an argument from me.” He grinned, and she joined him.

In a flash, she must have realized the state of her dishabille and pulled her gown together. She turned around and faced the mirror. Her fingers fumbled over the buttons as she started to fasten her dress. He turned his back to her.

The brush of her hands and fingers against the muslin gown broke the silence. “You may turn around now,” she announced.

Her smile could have melted a five-inch layer of ice on a winter’s day. It was the perfect segue to determine why she was here in London alone and at this empty house. “I received a letter from Bennett. He was quite chatty and shared that you hid the family at the local smithy’s so they were safe from your cousin.”

“Well, you see—”

He waved a hand through the air. “If my recollection serves me, didn’t I give detailed instructions? I told you that I’d send word and a coach when all was ready for the family to travel.” He took a quick glance around the room. There was no fire in the fireplace, and undoubtedly, she suffered from the drafty cold. He held out his hand. “Come, let’s go downstairs. Do you have a fire in any of the rooms?”

She nodded and accepted his hand. “In the kitchen. Are you hungry? I have cheese, bread, ham, and wine.”

“Sounds delightful.”

He escorted her out of the room. They walked side by side and descended the two staircases until they arrived on the lower floor. Down the darkened main hallway, she led him into the kitchen. A robust blazing fire had been well-tended and showed no signs of letting up.

As March busied herself finding plates and laying out the cuts of cheese and meat, he surveyed the domestic scene before him. An image of March heavy with child flashed before him. Shocked where his thoughts were going, McCalpin shook his head, then took a sip of the wine. He waited for her to sit before he partook of the offerings she’d served.

After he swallowed his first bite, he turned his full attention to her. She munched a sliver of ham and placed a piece of soft Camembert cheese on a slice of bread. When she finally noticed he was looking at her, she placed the food down on the plate and clasped her hands in her lap. “What would you like to discuss? Our kiss?”

“Kiss?” Her question was not the response he’d expected. Her face was impassive, but her lovely eyes darted everywhere but to his.

“Rest assured I won’t think any less of you,” she announced. “It was a magical moment for me. It’s so rare that I…”

“What?” A prickly unease replaced his earlier calm.

“Have a man look at me,” she whispered.

“As if desirable?” he asked. Immediately, he wanted to grab her hand and confess all the things he’d wanted to do with her in that attic. Anything to take the forlorn look from her face.

“Yes—no.” She shook her head as if dazed. “As if he wanted to kiss me.” She played with the bread on her plate, tearing it into little pieces.

He took a sip of the excellent full-bodied wine, perfect for a cold night like this. The fact that a lovely lady sat across from him made the drink that much richer.

“But I did. What if I wanted more than just a kiss?” he teased. She’d be magnificent in his bed stretched across him. Immediately, he tensed and wanted to recall the words. He’d wanted a kiss, a very sweet kiss. That was all.

Nothing more.

“Now, you’re making fun of me,” she retorted. “I don’t want anything to jeopardize our friendship. I’m so thankful you’ve helped my family. I’d hate it if things became uncomfortable between us and you not visit at your leisure.”

His gaze captured hers. “March, you misunderstand. We’re not friends.”

“Pardon me?”

“I went to the Court of Chancery and had myself appointed guardian for your siblings and the viscount’s estate. From now on, all decisions for the welfare of your family lie in my hands.”

He’d expected her undying gratitude. Instead, he got a look sharper than a rapier, one designed to make him bleed.

“Over my dead body,” she announced.

*

March held her temper in check by the most meager of threads. Magnificently fit and relaxed, the marquess leaned against the back of the chair and poured more wine into his glass. He raised a brow and regarded her, almost as if he was ready to laugh at her challenge.