Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (18 page)

My father waved impatiently. “Kinsley, see that her baggage is brought to her chambers.” He turned toward me with a scowl. “Do not ever disturb me during a meeting again.” With heavy steps, he returned along the passage by which he’d arrived.

Miss Moray’s demure expression dropped once my father disappeared. Her lip curled in scorn as she swept by me and marched up each step.

HOW LORD DALRY spent that day, I cannot say. But he returned to London House well past dinner with an exhausted Kate. She went straight to bed, but though his eyes evidenced exhaustion, Lord Dalry ordered James to light Lady Pierson’s office.

To my surprise, he summoned me and sorted through the various posts I’d worked on earlier. Cupping the side of his face and keeping his eyes closed as if too worn to sit straight, he verbally discussed with me each invitation. Thereafter, we worked out the proper way to address every person: his rank, his political leaning, and my father’s view of him.

After an hour, he grew so still that I paused in my recitation to study this strange gentleman. Every inch of him was courtly and polished, though to memory, I hadn’t yet caught him preening before a mirror. His handsomeness was overall, in a sort of scholarly way. His clipped brown hair was meticulously waxed into place, accenting the angular lines of his jaw. His chin had a unique round ending, one which added to, rather than detracted from, his looks.

“Did you forget?” Lord Dalry’s words slurred as he opened his eyes. “You drop the
of
and address an earl with the title Lord and the name of his locale. So instead of the Earl of Danbury, you’d call him Lord Danbury.”

I swept down my lashes, embarrassed to have been caught openly studying him. “I thought you were asleep.”

He straightened and rubbed his eyes. “Forgive me. I confess I am weary, but it was remiss to show it. What do you say we leave off studying the peers until tomorrow night? I see little need to quiz you on current affairs yet. Your father will prefer you to keep those opinions to yourself. Tell me instead about your studies in Scripture today.”

For a second, I was too stunned to speak. “My what?”

He sat straighter, seemingly puzzled by my expression. “You’re not the first to neglect your studies once in London, but trust me, Miss Pierson, it only grows more difficult from here. Tell me where you last studied, form a theory on it about a spiritual principle, and we’ll take opposing views and practice our logic.”

I didn’t know whether to envy him his education or despise him for his utter foolishness. “Have you no clue who I am?” I finally managed.

He waited.

“My name is Julia Elliston, and I am—” I felt heat rise. “Well, I
was
the daughter of the famed atheist William Elliston.”

He met my protest with no expression but maintained the expectation for me to complete his assignment.

I spread my hands, showing my offense. “Do you really desire to pick up where I left off? Well, I believe it was a triple-chinned vicar’s assessment that I was bound for eternal torment unless I repented of my father’s blasphemy. Never mind his own gluttony.”

His brows knit slightly. “I observed no such tendencies in Edward.”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned. “Don’t you dare speak lightly of him to me.”

“Forgive me. I meant no offense. But I had assumed that spiritually speaking, you were under Edward’s care.”

I longed to escape the interview. My discussions with Edward in regards to spiritual matters were far too intimate to share with another soul. My burgeoning steps toward belief were at great cost, for they required that I accept the beliefs of the very people who had wrought the most damage to me. To state that I had no faith wouldn’t be fully true; I was reconsidering. So I simply said, “I have not enough knowledge of Scripture to debate you.”

“But you have some knowledge?”

“None.”

Had a brick of weight been added to Lord Dalry’s load, this additional burden could not have been more evident. He sagged against the back of his chair but said nothing while he mentally adjusted. “I’m at a loss as to how to proceed.” He set his pen on the desk, then sat back and looked at it, gripping the arms of his chair. “We’ve only three weeks, and now we have this to tackle as well.”

“I fail to see how my viewpoint has bearing on anything.”

He leaned forward. “Because you arrived with Edward. No, you don’t see. We’ve already been telling everyone—your father and I, that is—that you’ve been at a religious institution. They’re all curious about you, and you’re shy, which means out of politeness they’re going to look for subjects you’ll excel in.”

“Why did you tell them that?”

“Well, we needed something to explain you.” Though his expression did not change, his voice indicated mild shock. “How can you be completely unversed in Scripture if you’ve been planning to marry a vicar?”

“I wasn’t planning on marrying a vicar. A vicar! William Elliston’s daughter? Why do you think I was tempted to marry Macy in the first place? It was because Edward took ord—”

Before more could be said, the door flung open. The candles
flickered in the swirl of air. Half died, plunging the room into gloom, piping smoke into the air.

Miss Moray stood in the doorway, appearing as sour as rancid milk. She started to speak but saw Lord Dalry as he rose. “Master Isaac!”

Lord Dalry looked over his shoulder before joy lit his face. “Miss Moray! When did you arrive?”

“This afternoon.”

He crossed the room and kissed each of her cheeks as she clutched his sleeves. “No one told me or I would have greeted you. How wonderful to see you again!”

Stunned by the joy of their reunion, I pinched my mouth tight.

“Look at you!” She stepped away. “This can’t be the lad who used to steal extra tarts from the tea tray.”

Lord Dalry laughed. “No need to tell Miss Pierson my past faults, if you don’t mind.”

Miss Moray’s smile vanished at the mention of my name. She released him and brushed off her skirt. “Yes, which reminds me, I’ve come to collect the girl for her evening facial.”

Lord Dalry’s smile likewise ceased. “She meets nightly with her father in the library and is due there any moment. I suggest in the future you check her schedule before arranging it.”

Miss Moray’s mouth curdled as she dipped.

Lord Dalry nodded toward the door. “You’re dismissed.”

With a face of stone, she left. Lord Dalry stood by the threshold, his head bent in thought. He must have disliked the conclusion he reached, for he shook his head as he turned toward Kinsley, who slept in a nearby chair. He squatted before the elderly man and touched his shoulder. “Wake, Kinsley. Miss Pierson and I are finished.”

With a snort, Kinsley awoke. “Eh? Don’t forget to set out Master Pierson’s slippers.”

Tenderness filled Lord Dalry’s face as he offered the aged
butler his arm. “I’ll make certain it’s done. Come with me. I’ll escort you to your chamber.”

Firelight shone through Kinsley’s thinning hair as he tottered to his feet, supported by Lord Dalry’s steady arm. As they passed me, Kinsley reached out and grabbed my arm. “Be careful, Miss Josephine. It might rain.”

“Wait here,” Lord Dalry advised me. “I’ll return and escort you to your father. I wish to have a brief word with him.”

“Will I be late?” I asked. I’d been staring at the shadows in the hall Miss Moray had disappeared into. My fear of keeping his schedule had begun to infect me as it did every other member of this household.

“Yes, but so long as you arrive with me, it won’t matter.”

In the library, my father stood before the blaze and shuffled through papers. Miss Moray waited in an armchair, watching him so intently she didn’t notice our arrival at first. When she did, she rose and curtsied. “I’ll go wait in Miss Pierson’s chambers, sir.”

“Thank you.” My father scarcely glanced up from his work as she departed. “Close the door, Isaac, and come here.” He placed the parchments on a reading table and glowered as Lord Dalry approached. “Have I or have I not asked you to keep a chaperone on hand when you are with my daughter?”

“You have, sir.”

“Then why are you disregarding my orders?”

Lord Dalry took a seat and crossed his legs, then leaned back, lacing his fingers over his knee. “Is this because I was speaking briefly to your daughter when Simmons found us?”

My father raised an eyebrow. “No. This is because Miss Moray found the two of you in a dark room alone.”

I almost choked on my readiness to defend us, but Lord Dalry held up a finger to me when my father focused in my
direction, forestalling the thunderclap that would have followed my interruption.

“We weren’t, sir. She opened the door suddenly and some candles blew out. Besides, Kinsley was with us.”

My father strummed his fingers over the table. “I questioned her quite thoroughly on this. Are you suggesting that she lied?”

I clenched my fist, wanting to demand that she be called back into the room and accuse us to our faces. Lord Dalry, however, only looked at his fingernails. “He was asleep in a chair that faced the fire. I suspect she failed to see him.”

“She asked to become your chaperone, and I’m half considering it.”

Lord Dalry almost looked bored as he met my father’s eyes, then gave him a lazy smile. “Well, sir, for obvious reasons we prefer Kinsley.”

My father darkened as he planted his hands on the table and leaned over it. “What exactly were you two doing?”

Lord Dalry looked mildly surprised. “I’d much rather not say, sir. It would only start a bad precedent, for I have no intention of disclosing all our doings.”

My father glared but then shook his head with a chuckle. “If it were anyone except you, Isaac, I’d have him thrashed and thrown out on the street for such answers. Very well; keep your secrets if you must have them.”

“And may we keep Kinsley too?”

“Yes, yes, keep Kinsley. You know I trust you.” My father waved for me to leave. “In another vein, I want you to take my place and join Crawlsley’s hunting party. He’s gotten hold of Thomas Carlyle’s pamphlet and has been making arguments for the movement. I need someone who can argue sensibly with them. Would you like a brandy?”

Lord Dalry uncrossed his legs. “No, sir. I’m intruding upon your time with your daughter. Allow me to leave.”

My father looked up and saw me. “You’re still here? I thought I’d dismissed you. Miss Moray informs me that she requires you for beauty treatments in the evenings. I’m sorry. We’ll be unable to meet.”

Lord Dalry leaped to his feet. “Sir, that’s the only time available for you to spend with your daughter. Make Miss Moray wait.”

“She’ll clamor to Lady Beatrice then. You remember how they were.” My father poured himself a tumblerful of brandy. “Besides, the Lords Hardwicke and Alexander were here today. You wouldn’t believe the politics that are happening at the clubs. We have work to do, and there’s no time to spare. I’ve arranged our key points, and we need to revisit them.”

“I wouldn’t trust a word Lord Alexander says,” Lord Dalry said. “And no matter what is happening politically, can you not spare one hour for your daughter’s sake?”

My father ignored the hurt that I could feel fashioning my face and turned toward Lord Dalry. His chunky gold ring clinked against the side of the glass. “Do not question me, Isaac. You know as well as I do the problems that will crop up between Lady Beatrice and Julia. Let her have her cursed beauty treatments.”

Lord Dalry met my father’s intense gaze with one of his own. “If you’ll excuse me, then, I’d like to walk your daughter to the stairs.”

My father sipped his drink, waving his fingers for Lord Dalry to do so. That my father would so easily dismiss our evenings brought me closer to tears than I liked. I turned and fled, not waiting for Lord Dalry.

He caught up to me in the hall. “I’m sorry, Miss Pierson,” he said, and he sounded it. “I know what this time with your father meant to you. It’s only three weeks until your presentation, and after that—”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” I hastened my pace, then spun and faced him. “She did that on purpose. You told her that
my father and I met nightly. I want her gone. I want my own lady’s maid. You influence my father. I’m begging you to do this for me.”