The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(85)
She released the pent-up breath and turned to her sisters. “So, tell me what’s occurred since I’ve gone.”
Faith and Julia stole furtive glances at each other. Julia swiftly scooted off the bed. “Nothing. Lord Queensgrace hasn’t sent word. If I see him at an event, I’ll cut him if he doesn’t cut me first.”
Faith stood and put her arm around Julia’s waist and drew her close. “Darling, don’t make any rash judgments. Give him a chance.”
Julia whirled swiftly and escaped Faith’s arms. “Will you give Dr. Kennett the same courtesy?”
Faith shook her head. “I haven’t heard from him either, so I take your point.” With an uneasy sigh, she turned to March. “The duchess is taking us shopping at Grigby’s in an hour. Then tonight, we’re to attend Lord Sinclair’s soiree musicale. Will you come with us?”
“No, I’ll spend the day at Lawson Court, then come back this evening for dinner.”
Both Faith and Julia tried to argue and change her mind, but much to March’s relief, they easily capitulated to her decision. Neither sister could afford another mark on their reputation if they wanted to make successful matches. If March were present, a scandal would erupt. No doubt, she was still the favorite topic of gossip for The Midnight Cryer. It made little difference whether the powerful Duchess of Langham was by her side or not.
“Bennett has a history lesson with Mr. Tatum soon. Julia and I should get ready for our outing with the duchess.” Faith reached over and kissed March on the cheek. “We’re so happy you’re home.”
Julia kissed March’s other cheek, and Bennett took her hand and bent over it like a perfect gentleman.
At the click of the door, the terror of the unknown from last night rose in a wave. What if she was always a pariah? Truly, what if she was always a constant embarrassment to her family and to Michael and his family? Her gaze skimmed the opulent gowns that the duchess had generously provided for the balls. Silks, satins, and lace would never hide her true self.
She was a sheep farmer, and a bastard one at that. March bit her lip and stared out the window. She quickly changed her gown and slippers for one of her old muslin frocks and sturdy half boots she wore when tending sheep. She’d spend the rest of the day at Lawson Court working.
Perhaps she’d find some peace there, or if she was lucky, a little piece of her old self, the one she’d lost two days ago.
*
Being in London for the past weeks had turned March into someone she didn’t recognize. She loathed admitting it to anyone else, but the pampering she experienced at Langham Hall had turned her tender. After a full afternoon of cleaning the sheep pens and the barn, and walking the fields of Lawson Court, the wind had burned her cheeks and her legs ached from all the walking. Her arms and hands throbbed in protest from all the physical work required to muck the barn and the sheep enclosures.
There’d been little else to do as Michael had sent Mr. Severin, his land steward, to oversee the estate’s operation. Like a tightly wound precision timepiece, the farm didn’t need her help anymore. Mr. Severin had hired staff to perform the daily work. Walking through the fields had allowed her time to gather all the emotions that she’d stuffed inside her heart and mind. It had taken hours, but she managed to make some sense of the chaotic events of her life since she’d arrived in London. When she’d made love to Michael last night, she’d found a comfort she hadn’t experienced since her parents’ death. To lie in his arms had made her feel that she had a place in the world. That someone actually admired and held her dear.
This had nothing to do with her family loving her, but everything to do with being perceived as a woman and revered. Michael saw her grief and struggles, then helped her because she meant something to him.
She’d not waste this opportunity. She’d seen too many women in her small town of Leyton live their entire lives alone without ever experiencing what she’d had last night. A man, who with infinite care and grace, had made love to her as if she was his greatest treasure to protect and nurture. She’d put everything behind her and concentrate on Michael and their upcoming marriage.
March took one final look at the rolling fields of her youth and remembered her parents. They’d be pleased with not only Bennett, but with the fine women Julia and Faith were today. Indeed, they’d be pleased with her choice of husband. There was no use wondering if they’d be pleased with her. They’d be ecstatic to discover their embezzling bastard had even found happiness and true love.
A kernel of unease flared deep inside. She had every right to be angry with her parents. She could easily let such feeling ferment and grow, but she extinguished such thoughts. She couldn’t change the past—only protect her and her family’s future.
Perhaps Michael didn’t love her now, but she’d make it her life’s work to show him what he meant to her. If she were lucky, maybe someday, he’d love her in return.
Whatever fate had in store for her, she wasn’t afraid of it.
Not anymore.
She walked into Lawson Court to say good-bye to Mrs. Oliver. When the housekeeper wasn’t in the kitchen, March ventured toward the dining room. She passed the study, then stopped. She’d never delivered Michael’s fraudulent seal, the one she’d had made to secure funds from her family’s trust. She opened the desk drawer, then opened the others in rapid succession.