The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(53)

The man bowed profusely. “My lord, an honor to meet you.”

He nodded, but didn’t offer a response.

The man’s eyes briefly narrowed. If McCalpin hadn’t been watching him so carefully, he might have missed the brief flash of hatred.

“It’s a noble endeavor to accept the responsibility for the viscount and his sisters. As a loyal cousin from March’s father’s side, I’d be more than willing to handle the guardianship and the estate if you find … perhaps it’s more work than you’d expected.”

The slight grin on his face made McCalpin angrier.

“There’s no need, Mr. Lawson. I’m enjoying my newfound role with the Lawson family immensely. They’re truly lovely”—McCalpin gestured toward the mansion behind him—“and the duke and duchess are simply captivated by them all. I could never, nor would I want, to shirk my responsibilities.” He gently took March’s elbow in his hand. “Besides, I understand you’re Lord Lawson’s heir. Unseemly to put you in such a difficult position. Every transaction you’d approved for the viscount or on his estate’s behalf could be questioned.” He delivered a composed smile. “No need to thank me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re expected inside.”

“My lord, it’s been a pleasure,” Lawson said. He turned to March. “Cousin, I shall call upon you again to continue our discussion.” He sketched something that looked like a bow, then strode away from them with his cane twirling in the air as if he were the happiest and most carefree man in all of London.

March shivered, and McCalpin’s attention immediately switched from Lawson to her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “He’s despicable, but it’s all bluff.”

“What did he want?” McCalpin watched Lawson until he disappeared.

“Julia and our money,” March sighed. “I told him it was out of my hands, but he kept pressing that something dire would happen.”

“Come with me.” McCalpin offered his elbow, and she took it immediately. The grasp of her hand around his arm was surprisingly strong, but her gait was weary and hesitant as if she couldn’t walk the short distance to the entrance. He wavered between strolling into the mansion like this or picking her up in his arms and carrying her in.

“Ma belle embezzler, it’s over. He can’t hurt you or your family. Now, I need you to stay strong and walk in there of your own accord, or if your preference is something else, I’ll pick you up.”

“Quit calling me that,” she protested.

“What? Embezzler?” he teased.

Her eyes widened in confusion. “Beautiful.”

Tenderly, he whispered, “I don’t like to tell a falsehood. Now, if I had my choice, I’d carry you into the house.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. With an inherent determination, she straightened. “Thank you. I’m ready to walk in now.”

There was her strong resolve he so admired. “I’m ready to kiss you now,” he whispered close to her ear.

She bit her lip and glanced away.

God, she was ravishing.

An unbridled need swept through him like a wildfire to protect her from the ugliness that dared harm her or her family. Before he did something foolish like kiss her in the middle of the street, he squeezed her hand and led her to Langham Hall.

Pitts opened the door, and after discarding their wraps and hats, McCalpin took March to the library.

Once inside, he turned the lock to avoid any interruptions from the servants. Once he had her settled in front of the blazing fire, he poured two small glasses of brandy. He settled next to her and gave her the glass of spirits.

“Drink it all.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her take a small sip. “More,” he growled, then took a large swallow of his own. She did as directed. The small act of concession caused a flicker of contentment to take root, pushing aside his remaining discontent over her dismay. She’d be her strong confident self in no time.

He tilted the glass up and finished his own serving. He angled his body close to hers. “Better?”

“Infinitely.” The fear had receded from her voice. She even offered him a smile, one that reminded him of last night when he’d held her in his arms.

“I didn’t get the opportunity to ask last night, but where did you learn to dance?” An excellent dancer, she’d been warm and supple in his arms as he’d whisked her around the mezzanine. Her height matched his, making it easy to maneuver the steps. He leaned back and regarded her. “You’re quite accomplished.”

Her cheeks burst into a rosy blush.

Good lord! Somehow, such a simple response robbed him of his very breath.

“That’s very kind. My mother and father taught me. Then they’d allowed me to practice by attending several small assemblies in Leyton. The wanted me to be ready for my Season.” She studied the glass in her hand. Gently, she placed it on the side table without making a sound.

“Have you always been frightened of your cousin?”

She shook her head, then lifted her gaze to his. The fire caught the flecks of gold in her warm eyes, making them flash with light. “Lately, he’s become bolder in his demands. He’s too old for Julia, and she’s too kind for him. I’m afraid he’d crush her spirit if they made a match.” Her low voice shook as she returned her gaze to the fire. “His indifference to Faith has turned into something quite cruel.”