The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(68)
She smothered a cry, and her gaze flew to where Michael had been in conversation. Neither he nor the duke were anywhere in sight.
Her cousin was less than fifty feet from her and making his path quite clear.
He was coming for her.
Desperate to find Michael, she searched the ballroom perimeter. In every corner, she found only strangers and acquaintances. Even her sisters and Lord William were absent. Her heart pounded against her chest with such force she was certain her ribs would crack.
She pivoted on one foot to search behind her, but a gloved hand grabbed her upper arm and swung her around. As if Rupert wanted her to fall, he pushed her away.
“You lied to me,” he snarled. “You lied to all of us.”
Too consumed with trying to stay upright, she backed away from him.
Lady Miranda gasped and inched away from March as if to protect herself from the carnage about to spill on the floor. Guests moved closer to the spectacle, their croaking murmurs growing in volume. With their formal wear, the crowd resembled a gathering of carrion-eating ravens ready to feast.
“What are you doing?” March hissed. She had little option but to force him to withdraw before he embarrassed her sisters and Michael. He’d done a fine job of disgracing her, so there was little she could do to save herself.
Rupert ignored her and addressed the crowd that pressed closer. “This woman has been stealing from my cousin, Lord Lawson, and his fine sisters. It’s been going on for months, and unfortunately, the Marquess of McCalpin’s been a victim too.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but her cousin continued his diatribe.
“This woman is a fraud, an embezzler, and is using my poor little cousin, Lord Lawson, as a shield to hide her nefarious purposes.” His voice grew louder as the audience kept expanding into a huge circle around them.
By then, Faith and Dr. Kennett had forced their way to the front of the group. Julia and Lord Queensgrace had followed. March had to force herself to breathe as the cold knot inside her chest tightened. Her heart thumped madly as if encouraging her to pick up her skirts and run away.
Rupert closed the distance between them with an unholy gleam in his eyes as he glanced at Julia with Lord Queensgrace. It became readily apparent Rupert would not stop and planned to destroy her before the assembled crowd. Never before had she felt so defenseless as she searched the faces among the throng, praying she’d find Michael.
Her cousin tightly gripped her arm again. With a tug, he forced her closer, and the odor of sweat surrounded her. For a moment, all she could think of was whether her beautiful gown would survive his contamination.
“Ladies and gentleman, this woman is not who she represents herself to be,” he boasted.
Julia bravely stepped forward. “Rupert, stop.”
Lord Queengrace stood directly behind her in support.
Rupert ignored them all. “She’s immoral and a sinner. She’s tainted my family with her filth. She represents herself as a Lawson, but her actions prove otherwise. She’s allowed a known sodomite to live with her and corrupt my cousins.”
She tried to pull herself from his grasp. Desperate, she needed to escape the sea of faces that twisted in contempt and disgust. The seconds turned into hours as her cousin continued to berate her.
Where was Michael? Surely, someone told him that she was being destroyed in front of the entire room.
The only sound that rang in her ears was Rupert’s continued sermon on her wicked immorality.
“She’s a bastard fooling us all. It’s a lie she’s the eldest of Lord Lawson’s proud and noble family.” His cool, bug-eyed glare continued to assault her. “And I have the proof.”
The words, sharp as an arrow, took perfect aim and pierced every piece of her self-control. The hard pounding of her heart stopped as her entire world exploded into a million pieces.
*
The ugly rant grew louder and harsher the closer McCalpin came to the altercation taking place center stage in the ballroom. The orchestra still played, but no couples danced.
“Pardon me. Let me through please.” Desperate to reach March, McCalpin pushed his way through the densely packed crowd. He managed to bump into quite a few gentlemen, but thankfully didn’t step on any ladies’ toes. He continued his litany of apologies, but that was the least of his concerns. His only path was to find March and the madman, who continued to hurl his unrelenting chant of ridicule.
The crowd parted slightly, allowing Julia’s pale face to come into view. McCalpin continued to press toward the center until he caught sight of March’s raven-dark tresses, the soft curls about her head as familiar as his own hands.
With a face white with shock, Faith stood on one side of March. She stepped forward to face the man who was berating her sister, but Queensgrace, next to Julia, put his hand on Faith’s shoulder to stop her progress, the act so protective that it caused McCalpin’s blood to pound. An unholy demon rose in strength, and the urge to rip the miscreant who insulted March grew stronger. He fisted his hands and shouldered his way to the front.
The sight made him want to roar.
March, his March, stood cornered like a fox before the hounds, who were masked as the demigods of society. Except for her sisters, everyone else stood by as she was torn to shreds.
Her eyes narrowed in pain, and she glanced his way not seeming to recognize him. Her crimson cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Frantic, her gaze shifted from face to face as if seeking escape.