The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(70)

He squeezed her hand and smiled.

She answered with one touched by sadness.

He continued to lavish attention on her as they danced by themselves in the center of the ballroom. Time and again, throughout his life, he’d experienced a moment similar to this—a moment where everyone would silently relish his defeat.

“Believe it or not, I know exactly how you feel. You need to show these people that Lawson didn’t upset you. Show them you don’t care. Otherwise, every paper in London will have a stinging description of what just occurred.”

Her anemic grin only made him more resolute. He had to protect her, but the only way he could accomplish that was if she’d play along with him.

“My cousin Claire went through something very similar when her fourth fiancé broke their engagement at the Season’s most important ball. She almost collapsed under the embarrassment, but Pembrooke swept in and declared they were engaged.” He squeezed her hand in reassurance. “I almost killed him for that, but it was a blessing in disguise for Claire.”

As if in reflex, she squeezed his hand in return. A jolt of relief hit him, and for the first time in minutes, he relaxed and took a deep breath. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

Her eyes searched his at the endearment. He smiled in reassurance as she flushed but remained silent.

“Now Emma was a walking scandal,” he whispered.

Lines creased her forehead as if she didn’t care for his description of his sister.

He lifted one brow in challenge, and she dipped her head. He’d never seen her so unsure of herself, and he didn’t care for this new side of her. Always, her strength was one of her most beautiful traits, and it never ceased to enchant him.

McCalpin leaned close. “She was caught traveling in Portsmouth with Somerton. When they arrived back in town, she faced complete ruin.”

With a slight tilt of her head, she regarded him with a questioning look.

“Indeed.” He nodded and leaned close as if imparting a state secret. “She survived the endless gossip posted about her wild and wanton ways.”

The first real glimmer of hope brightened March’s face. He grinned, and she answered him with one of her own, a genuine hint of pleasure that pleased him to no end.

“In fact, because of one scathing article in The Midnight Cryer, she ended up marrying the love of her life. To this day, she reads that poor excuse of a daily paper out of loyalty as she credits their reporting for her happy marriage. Sometimes good things come from the most wretched scandals.” He brought his mouth close to her ear. Her sweet scent caressed him, and he started to relax in return. “Of course, you’ll survive this too. But it’s important that you show everyone here tonight that it doesn’t matter.”

She leaned away slightly with a beautiful grin that didn’t meet her eyes. “But it does,” she whispered. “Rupert’s lies will forever stain my birthright and legacy. He’s maligned me and my family.”

“It only matters to the ones who feed upon such vicious nonsense,” he answered.

“What about you?”

“Sweet March.” He shook his head, determined to make her understand. “Not to me. Never to me.”

The warmth in her eyes caused his pulse to race in his veins. The sudden whirl of their turn caused the train of her dress to swing in a dramatic movement, drawing their audience’s attention to focus on their dance steps. He took the distraction as an opportunity and brushed his lips gently against her head as he turned her in another direction.

His touch precipitated a true smile, one that reminded him of the heavens opening on a cloudy day and sunshine spilling around them.

The sound of his own laughter encircled them as the music slowed to a stop. He tucked her arm around his and escorted her across the ballroom all the while laughing, talking, and ignoring the rest of guests.

He let out a sigh of relief. She’d survived the humiliation.

Proving what he knew all along.

She’d make an excellent marchioness.





Chapter Seventeen

The following morning, three copies of The Midnight Cryer lay upon March’s bed along with Faith and Julia. The crisp snap of turning pages broke the eerie quiet. They were all speechless. Except for a couple of articles describing last night’s ball, the entire paper was a running exposé on March and her supposed lies she’d used to make her way into the Langham household.

For a moment, she had wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her situation, but one column caught her eye. Riveted, she had to read it three times to ensure she understood what it was saying.

The paper claimed that Rupert had provided a copy of the marriage registry from Chelmsford and a sworn statement from the vicar stating that her parents married nineteen years ago.

How could Rupert have convinced a vicar to support this outrageous fabricated story? It was a complete falsehood. It had to be.

“March, have you read the back page?” Julia was the first to break the silence. “I must stop for a while as I’m making myself sick with all the lies.” Her sister pressed her eyes shut and exhaled. “How could Rupert have done this to us? We are a family,” she whispered.

Before March could say anything, there was a knock on the door. Faith rose from the bed to answer. It was a thankful reprieve from the ghastly exposé of March’s ne’er-do-well ways.