The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(82)

She stirred then blinked her eyes several times at the fire. Slowly, she turned. When she recognized him, her mouth twisted into a sleepy smile, the effect so powerful he wondered if she’d drugged him. All he could do was reach for her.

He stopped, suddenly frozen, but his blood burned like fire. The one book that held all his secrets lay under her hands.

“Michael.” The remnants of sleep colored her words.

“What are you doing at my desk?” She flinched as if he’d hurt her, and immediately, he regretted the curt words.

“I couldn’t sleep. All I could see in my mind were numbers regarding the purchases and withdrawals I’d made over the last several months. I—I needed to determine how much money I’d taken.” She shrugged her shoulders as if defeated. “I wanted a list of each expenditure along with its purpose.”

“Why are my estate books open?”

“I needed a distraction and thought I could help with the bookkeeping.”

He reached for the book that would expose his deepest shame, then stopped stock-still when her hand covered his.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Exactly what?” Much like that fateful day when Will’s hand covered his, time screeched to a halt. He almost sneered, but thankfully, with the slimmest of willpower he held himself in check. It was the natural reaction whenever anyone came close to discovering his problem, but it was completely inappropriate for March. For God’s sake, she would be his marchioness soon.

“Your difficulty with numbers.” Her face glowed in the candlelight, but her eyes made his heart tumble in his chest. Tender without any judgment or condemnation, they melted into his.

He plowed a hand through his hair and exhaled. Never before had he ever laid every weakness he possessed at someone’s feet. God, the ability to share this failure, this defect, would be so freeing. To explain how frustrated it made him would lift the heavy burden he’d carried all his life. She would listen. He only prayed she wouldn’t condemn him.

He took a deep breath and relaxed. Nay, she wouldn’t judge him.

“Let’s sit by the fire.” He tugged her from the chair and swept her into his arms. She uttered an endearing feminine yelp that was perfectly charming. When he settled her on his lap, she rested her head against his shoulder.

“I’ll try not to make the story boring.”

“Nothing you could ever say to me would be the least bit boring.” She leaned and captured his gaze. “I want to know everything.”

He escaped her stare only to study the fire. It made it easier. “It became apparent to me that I was an idiot with numbers early on. My old governess had railed at my lack of abilities. She even told me that I should be relieved of my responsibilities as the heir to my father.”

Her eyes narrowed in pain as she she gently squeezed his hand in comfort. “How horrible. I hope she was dismissed.”

“She was … because of William. But by then, Will and Emma had surpassed me in their mathematical prowess. Thankfully, my parents replaced her with a kind tutor who didn’t punish or rail at me when I struggled with assignments.”

“You’re one of the most intelligent and empathetic men I’ve ever known. But it must have been difficult to see your siblings surpass you.” With her hand, March turned his face until she held his gaze once again. “Go on.”

The nurturing gentleness in her tone encouraged him to exhale his trepidation. “I am the mighty Langham ducal heir, and I couldn’t add a column of numbers together successfully.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes at the painful memories. “I was so ashamed. My tutor tried everything, but nothing worked. Every time I had a problem or equation to solve, I was off by one. If the answer were five, I’d find it as six. If it was subtraction and the answer was thirty-six, I’d solve it as thirty-five. If it was a fraction, heaven help me. It was as if my brain played nasty tricks on me.”

His throat tightened as the familiar panic gripped him, as if he was struggling with calculations now. He shook his head to banish such wicked thoughts and glanced at her.

She stroked her fingers along his cheeks, the touch soft and reassuring. “How did you hide it at school?”

“It was Eton.” He grunted with a sound that belied his disgust with himself. “Not much is expected of ducal heirs. I either canceled the exam or went home. Sometimes I wrote a note informing them I was ill and refused to take the exam.”

March nodded as she continued to offer comfort. “Did your parents ever address it with you?”

“They never raised it, and neither did I. I thought if I didn’t admit it, then I wasn’t a failure.” He exhaled with difficulty as a vise of shame tightened around his chest. “I exceeded all their expectations in my other subjects. In logic, literature, history, even languages, I received top marks. No one ever questioned my ability in mathematics. I believe they just assumed I excelled in that subject also.” He cleared his throat of its thickness again.

“Michael.” The soft whisper was as soothing as a caress. “You’ve never been a failure. You’re as brilliant as the sun.”

“I disagree, my beauty.” He pressed a kiss against her cheek. “That’s why you always see William with me. He plays the role as advisor to me, but really he’s reviewing the accounts and investments.” He chanced a glance her way. “That’s why he was so pointed in his questions to you. He’s protective of me.”