The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(38)

Somerton placed his hand possessively over his wife’s fingers. “Lawson, you’re treading on thin ice if you think I won’t fight for her.”

Bennett delivered his best roguish smile. Truthfully, it closely resembled a charming lopsided grin. “Well, Lord Somerton”—Bennett leaned back in his chair and regarded the earl—“your wife did ask me for the dance first.”

Laughter rang out throughout the room.

Somerton’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “You make an excellent point. I shall have to try harder to win my lady wife’s affections and keep young rogues like you from pushing me away.”

Faith caught March’s gaze and smiled, then dipped her head in acknowledgment. Their brother was transforming into a man before their eyes.

A flurry of activity from the attending footmen brought everyone’s attention to the entrance of the dining room. Lord William and Michael entered with a flourish. Tiny crystals of snow clung to their shoulders and caught the light of the chandelier’s candles, giving the men the appearance of magical creatures.

March’s body vibrated like a tuning fork when she caught her first glimpse of him. An image of Michael sweeping her away from the room and bestowing a kiss crowded out all thoughts and created a smoldering heat in her belly. To have a private moment with him would turn the wonderful evening into something enchanting.

She released a pent-up sigh. It was ridiculous to entertain such thoughts. She couldn’t expect more and had to prepare herself for the sight of him dancing and flirting with women who were elegant, sophisticated, and beautiful—everything she was not.

To settle her runaway thoughts, March bent her head and concentrated on the perfectly roasted fowl on her plate. Someone slipped into the seat beside her. When she turned to greet Lord William, it was Michael who bestowed a grin on her, once more transforming him into her David. Her heart beat frantically as if trying to break free.

“Good evening, March,” he whispered. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and greeted his family. “I apologize that William and I are late. Every fool in London must be out shopping at the last minute for Mother’s ball. I’ve never seen such traffic.”

The duke smiled warmly at his sons. “As long as you both are safe and sound, no one minds.”

“He’s just making excuses,” William taunted. “I’m late because he’s always late.”

“A nasty habit you need to cure yourself of,” the duke gently admonished.

“Did you have a productive day?” the duchess asked.

Michael directed his brilliant gaze at his mother. The Cavensham men’s sapphire-blue eyes were legendary throughout England. Claire and Emma had emerald-green eyes that fascinated everyone. Yet to March, Michael’s surpassed them all in their devastating beauty.

“Indeed. I worked on estate matters for McCalpin Manor all day. I’m pleased to say we accomplished quite a lot.” Michael speared a piece of fowl.

He leaned slightly toward March as he addressed his mother. The heat of his body radiated toward her, and as if drawn by the force of his presence, she drew near. Who could resist such perfection? She shook her head slightly and tried to settle once again. This was dangerous. For her own well-being, she needed to be cautious and keep a respectable distance.

William had taken the seat across the table from her. Since the rules of etiquette were relaxed when the family dined together, March addressed him. “Lord William, did you enjoy your day?”

He squirmed slightly in his chair. If she hadn’t been watching him closely, she might have missed it. Immediately, Michael stiffened beside her. Obviously, she’d struck a nerve somehow.

“Hmm, yes. I worked on estate matters also.” He devoted his attention to the piece of beef on his plate. “Delicious meal. I’m famished.”

“Where is your estate, Lord William?” Julia asked.

“I don’t have one, Miss Julia.” William turned to Pembrooke and Somerton. “What time will you arrive tomorrow? Perhaps we might have some time to chat before the guests arrive?”

“The duchess commands we arrive no later than two hours before the ball.” Pembrooke nodded at Somerton. “So, we’ll plan on it.”

Somerton addressed Daphne. “How are you managing work at the bank? I want Emma to start taking more time away.”

“Truthfully, I could use a little help.” Daphne sighed, then grinned. “This afternoon, I was bombarded by no less than ten customers and several of them had to wait. Do you know anyone who has a talent for numbers?”

Somerton’s intense gaze settled on March, and she immediately straightened in her seat as if being called to attention by the whistle of a British Navy Admiral. The earl then lavished one of his dazzling smiles. “Miss Lawson, would you have any interest in working at the bank? When Emma approached you before, you were too busy at Lawson Court. Since you’re in London, perhaps your schedule might allow you to help.”

The duchess smiled sweetly in her direction. That sign of affection was March’s undoing. “I’d love to, my lord. Only if it’s acceptable to your wife.”

Emma scoffed. “Please, March. You know how long I’ve wanted you to work there. With your business experience, you’ll help make the bank even more successful.”

Somerton protectively placed his arm around his wife’s chair. “Then it’s settled. How about if you come to the bank the day after the ball?”