The Luck of the Bride (The Cavensham Heiresses #3)(90)
“Undoubtedly, a trait that served you well in dealing with an idiot like me,” he whispered.
“Don’t you dare say that about yourself.” She took a step toward him to offer comfort and reassurance that the horrible things he repeated weren’t true. He didn’t give her the chance as he turned abruptly and walked to the fire.
He bent his head and clasped his hands behind his back.
“I’ve only taken money from the trust account I thought was mine. The exact amount is one thousand one hundred and twenty-seven pounds—”
“And seventeen shillings,” he finished for her. “But that’s just a small part of it, isn’t it?”
“Michael?” Her whisper turned into a plea, and she didn’t care. She’d get down on her hands and knees and beg him to listen to her. She had to make him understand that she would never do such vile things—not to him or anyone else for that matter.
“Why, March?” He didn’t turn from his study of the fire. “You could have had jewels, gowns, carriages, a generous allowance, not to mention a rare position in society that women around the continent would die for. You would have been the Duchess of Langham someday.”
His solemn words cut her in two. He actually believed she’d stolen from him. “Do you think I care for any of that except being your wife?”
“Last night, I didn’t. But today?” He shook his head. “Today, I don’t know what to believe.” He finally turned and stared at her. “Did none of this”—he waved his hand between them—“mean anything to you? Did last night mean nothing but a way to force me to marry you so you wouldn’t get caught?”
“What are you saying?” She could barely speak. His words were so demeaning she wondered if she could withstand the assault. “Did you look in your household account book to see what I’d written?”
“Why? Will I find more of the same stealing and embezzling that we didn’t cover last night?”
“You should read it,” she whispered.
“I’m finished with that nonsense,” he murmured.
He turned away, and her heart sank as if tied to an anchor seeking the ocean’s bottom. She closed her eyes and hoped she wouldn’t fall into a heap. This morning, she’d written him a note, a very personal note, one that described her complete commitment and love for him.
The door swept open, and the Duke of Langham appeared. While most men simply entered a room, he commanded it. The duke locked the door behind him.
“What is going on?” The duke’s gaze darted from Michael’s to hers.
Immediately, March executed a proper curtsy. “Your Grace.”
Michael acknowledged his father with a dip of his head but didn’t say a word. Immediately, his face turned into a haughty mask, one she’d seen repeatedly worn by the nobility that had to deal with undesirables like herself.
Without pause, the duke walked to his desk and settled into the massive chair. How a man so large could move so quietly and gracefully had to be inborn. Once he settled and straightened the documents on his desk, he directed his attention to Michael. “Explain to me how this happened.”
Michael lifted a brow and regarded March. His unwavering gaze full of disdain penetrated hers. “Perhaps Miss Lawson might be able shed some light on the errors.”
“Errors?” The duke’s voice was even, but the lethal sharpness of a steel sword underscored the word. “These aren’t simple errors, McCalpin. This is an uncontrollable bleeding from the estates, one you should have caught immediately. Not only is there damage to McCalpin Manor, but Falmont is impacted. Severin and Merritt met me after my last appointment and are in the library with every account book. As we speak, they’re combing through every account and every entry trying to find out exactly what happened. The auditor, Mr. Wilburton, is on his way to join them. No one will rest until we determine the actual amounts stolen and who did it.”
The duke waited for a response. When none was forthcoming, he started to drum the fingers of one hand on his desk. The rhythm began slowly, but as the silence grew between the three of them, the movement quickened until finally, the duke slapped his hand on the desk.
“Is there something I’m missing?” The duke stared at Michael, whose attention was devoted to the fireplace. Lost in another world, he didn’t answer his father. The duke exhaled and directed his attention to her. “March, you’ve reviewed the books. Can you shed any light on this?”
She stole a glance at Michael. The comfort and affection she’d experienced in his arms last night was a distant dream. A trickle of sweat meandered down the side of his face. His olive-toned skin had faded into a pasty pallor that marked his handsome face with irrefutable pain. He clenched his fists so tightly that the white of his knuckles was visible across the room. He was completely unraveling before her into someone she didn’t recognize.
What she’d remember for the rest of her life was how motionless he stood. Without taking a breath, he appeared frozen, ready to crack into a thousand pieces.
Not only was she being destroyed, but the man she loved and had thought she’d spend her life with suffered from her annihilation, too. Second by second, the ugliness of her previous embezzlement actions and the accusations of today were eradicating the strong, resolute man she had come to know during her stay in London.