The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(48)
One of the first things he’d do today was convince her how beautiful she was and give her some much-needed confidence with men—even if it was to his own detriment.
True, she wasn’t what most men appreciated as a typical beauty. Yet her bearing, stature, and intelligence enticed him like no other. Her warm brown eyes and thick luscious hair perfectly complimented her flawless ivory skin. How could any man resist kissing those full lips? Certainly not him. He just needed to ensure she never discovered his deficiencies.
“March is dear to me, and I’ll not see her hurt.” Emma swallowed and wiped her eyes. “This baby is playing havoc with my emotions.” She took a sip of tea. “I only want the best for both of you.”
“Thank you, Em. She’s my friend also. I’ll explain about Lady Miranda.”
The longcase clock in the hall chimed the hour.
“Excuse me.” Emma stood, and Buxton appeared with her black velvet cloak. “I have a meeting at the bank. March is stopping by this morning to discuss her schedule with Daphne and me.” She turned to Will. “I’ll see you at Langham Hall later.”
Both of them stood and watched her depart. Buxton followed and closed the door, leaving McCalpin alone with William.
“What are your intentions with March?” William’s low voice cut through the silence in the room. “I’m all ears.”
He cleared his throat in an effort to afford himself more time to come up with the appropriate answer. “Until this morning, I really hadn’t given it any thought.” It wasn’t an outright lie, but perhaps a shading of the truth. “She comes from a well-regarded family. I don’t believe anything she’s done has been for her own benefit. On the contrary, she’s proved herself loyal and determined when it comes to her family.”
William nodded in agreement.
“A match with her—”
“My God, you’re serious. We were teasing,” whispered William incredulously. “You’re thinking of marriage?”
“I’d not considered the bloody matter until you and Em brought it up.” The sharp words shot across the room like an explosion from a pistol. “Besides, it’s not your concern.”
Will elevated an eyebrow and stared at him. “She’s a forger, and who in hell knows what else. I’m just looking out for your interests.”
“What she’s done in the past has no bearing on the future.” McCalpin was well aware his voice was growing louder the more he defended her.
“McCalpin, I want you to be happy, but”—Will exhaled and then lowered his own voice as if soothing a petulant Arabian stallion—“I also want you to be careful. Emma may not want to see March hurt, but I’ll not see you lay to waste either.”
There it was—the stark and naked truth. One word of his stupidity with numbers, and he’d become a laughing stock throughout the kingdom. No one would ever take him seriously if he found himself elected to the House of Commons. He’d likely be arguing to an empty chamber.
With March’s ability to forge his name and his own lack of ability to run his investments and accounts, he was walking a narrow line. She could easily ruin him without much effort. With one misstep, he and the duchy might topple into an epic disaster, one without any hope of recovery.
He couldn’t allow such a disaster to happen. Granted, other peers and their heirs had men of affairs to handle their estates. However, his father had instilled within him a very different set of values. One day he would be responsible for the massive operation of the dukedom. It was a task he wouldn’t take lightly, ignore, or pass off to others. He would oversee and protect all of it—including the people who dedicated their lives and service to Falmont, the massive ancestral estate.
He released a tortured breath. This was March, a woman who was loyal to an extreme. She would deny herself happiness if it meant her family would prosper. He had to believe he meant something to her and that he’d have that same loyalty bestowed on him. She’d never hurt him.
“McCalpin, Cavensham men fall in love quickly and decidedly. Our father and late uncle are perfect examples. You’re in danger of doing just that with this woman. Please, take your time. That’s all I’m saying.” William carefully examined him. “You’re prickly and short of temper. Don’t do anything rash.”
“While I appreciate your concern, I’m well aware of what I’m doing.” McCalpin threw his napkin to the table, then stood as if issuing a challenge. “I’m going for a morning ride, then I plan to visit Langham Hall.”
The steady clip of his heels against the wood floor was the only sound in the room as McCalpin strode purposefully for the exit. For once, he’d rendered his brother speechless.
*
March descended the stairs of Langham Hall on her way to find Faith and break their fast. She couldn’t keep the memory of last night’s ball, but more importantly Michael’s kiss, out of her thoughts. All night she’d dreamed of his mouth against hers and his body embracing hers. With a small shimmy of her shoulders and a headshake, she tried to ward off her wayward thoughts.
“What are you doing to me?” Faith’s whisper dissolved into a soft fit of giggles.
The sound came from the salon to March’s left.
“I won’t hurt you. I just need to touch you there. How does that feel?” The male voice responded in the same hush tones.