The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(88)

McCalpin lifted his lip in a sneer. “I’ve no need for the dissertation, Mr. Jameson. I’m aware of Miss Lawson’s changed circumstances.”

“Very well, my lord.” Jameson apologetically nodded.

He didn’t spare a glance at Russell or Jameson as they left. He picked up the tally of March’s embezzlement and put it aside. How could she have duped him in such a manner? Yet, he couldn’t believe—couldn’t fathom such a betrayal.

William quirked an eyebrow. “How do you know about the books? I just became aware of them today.”

He held William’s gaze while schooling his features into a proper haughty ducal heir expression. He was ready for whatever lectures or scathing comments his brother might share. “March showed them to me. She went through the books.”

“All of them?” Incredulous, William voice trailed to a whisper.

“All of them,” he replied.

Emma released a sigh. “That proves my point.”

Somerton placed his hand over hers. “Macalester’s a good man. He’ll discover where the funds are.” He released a breath. “McCalpin, it’s possible the monies will leave England. Miss Lawson’s Mr. Hart is traveling to the States and may settle there. Bennett told us earlier this morning. While you were out yesterday, Hart came to visit the Lawson siblings.” Somerton stole a glance at Emma. “How are you?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Go ahead and tell them the rest of it.”

Somerton placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “The fellow inherited the majority of Erlington’s wool mills in the States. He’s getting ready to set sail later this week. If it was March, she may have given him the missing funds to hide over there.”

Emma gently batted Somerton in the chest. “Nick, that’s beyond ridiculous. Why would she do that? Her family is here.”

“My love, I’m just trying to follow the money,” Somerton offered.

“That’s the point, Emma,” William whispered. “To protect her family from bearing any of the guilt or shame when it’s discovered what she’s done. It makes perfect sense.”

“Let’s not convict her without at least hearing from her directly,” Emma pleaded.

McCalpin’s mind raced while his gut twisted. March couldn’t have done this, but the facts were staring him in the face. Now nothing made sense.

Her constant worry over money and the way she took the opportunity to get close to him at every turn were clear warning signs. She’d never even looked at another gentleman at all those balls she’d attended. Had her wayward trip to Chelmsford been part of her plan? When she’d come to his room, he’d seduced her ensuring he’d have no recourse but to marry her, thus absolving her of all wrongdoing.

His heart clenched and demanded he look deeper. She’d been so loving and vulnerable last night when he took her in his arms. All along, she’d never asked for anything for herself. It was always for her brother and sisters.

His old familiar enemy, humiliation, crowded his thoughts and took command. He had no idea how to rectify the damage. Hell, he didn’t even know who to blame or what to think.

Emma broke away from Somerton’s embrace and stood before him. She placed her hand on his arm. “McCalpin, she’d never do anything to hurt you. She loves you. Can’t you see it?”

His conscience demanded he focus on his duty. He could only see the wiles March had used to gain his trust, and he’d freely given it to her.

William cleared his throat. “You need to think this through, McCalpin.”

“Will, what are you doing?” Emma’s voice trembled with barely held outrage. “Since she and McCalpin started spending time together, you’ve never cared for her.”

William narrowed his gaze to hers. “Are you suggesting I’m jealous of her?”

“Not jealous.” Emma sighed. “That you’re not needed anymore. Perhaps ignored.”

“Must I spell it out for everyone? Think of everything that’s happened since that family has come into our lives.” William’s outrage grew in volume. “Embezzling from trust funds, household accounts, and investments funds? Think of the scandal when Lawson announced March was a bast—”

The Langham butler, Pitts, entered without knocking. “Lord McCalpin, Miss Lawson has arrived.”

March rushed in like a fierce wind of her namesake. “Michael, I have news—” She came to an abrupt halt and glanced around the room. “Hello, everyone. What’s wrong?”

McCalpin took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. He had to know the truth. Slowly, he stood and faced her. “I need you to answer a question for me.” Without betraying any of the anguish that tore up his insides, he continued, “Have you used my seal for anything after I told you not to?”

She tilted her head and regarded him. “No.”

“Think carefully,” he cautioned. He prayed she had the answers to prove her innocence to William and truthfully to him.

“I said no. Why do you ask?”

He exhaled his last bit of hope. He picked up the letter to Lawson. “Did you write this?”

March’s brow drew together. She approached silently and took the letter from his grasp. She lifted her gaze from the paper. “Yes, but I can explain—”