Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (19 page)

Lord Dalry said nothing for a long moment, and I prayed he was considering my request. Finally he sighed. “Do not be angry with Miss Moray. Neither your father nor your lady’s maid are as unfeeling as they appear. You weren’t here before, so you cannot guess what it was like, how difficult life in this household was.”

I laughed a mocking laugh. “Oh, I can guess, all right.”

“No. You can’t.” His piercing gaze met mine. “Miss Moray’s dislike of you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with your father. She was chosen by your father to help with the ruse, for everyone knows of her excessive dedication to Lady Pierson. I cannot grant your request, for she’s necessary.”

His face expressionless, he gave a slight bow, then turned back toward the library, leaving me at the foot of the stairs, wondering what his life had been.

Less than twelve hours later, my dislike for Miss Moray increased tenfold as I raced toward the breakfast chamber. I slid into my place and glanced at my father, trying to regulate my breathing. Kate gave me a shy smile.

“The warning bell sounded ten minutes ago.” My father snapped his pocket watch shut and tucked it inside his coat. “There was plenty of time to arrive in a more ladylike manner. Next time you arrive breathless, you shall not eat. I will not tolerate uncouth manners.”

I pressed against the back of my seat and gave him a nod. Miss Moray had taken an obscene amount of time dressing me and had been none too gentle, either. My scalp still tingled from her rigorous brush strokes.

“When I ask you a question, you verbally answer,” my father said. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Across the table, Lord Dalry met my eyes. No cultured veil hung over his features now. His sympathy was palpable. The difference between his polished and natural expression was so evident, I looked down. Who would believe that this was the same detached-looking gentleman, who at best lifted an eyebrow or frowned slightly?

“What hour is Lady Beatrice expecting Miss Pierson?” He held out his book for James to take, then faced my father. “With your permission, sir, I’d like to escort her.”

My father’s eyes skimmed the top of his paper. “That’s hardly necessary, Isaac. She’s not going.”

“But, sir, that—”

“Isaac, not one word.”

Lord Dalry looked ready to disobey the order, but before he could, a door slammed, followed by a clattering noise. Hard-soled shoes clunked on the floor in the hall. Someone must have been shoved or fallen, for something thumped against the wall, causing the dishes stacked on the sideboard to rattle.

“James, what on earth?” My father lowered the
Gazette
.

“I’ll go check, sir.” James hastened toward the door, but it swung open and a disheveled Mr. Forrester stormed into the room.

“Never mind, James.” My father picked up his coffee and resumed reading his paper. “I think we have found the cause of our disturbance.”

Mr. Forrester sneered at me, loosening his drooping cravat. “You would still be here.”

Without so much as a flicker of his eye, my father continued to read. “As much as I value your theatrics, Robert, would you mind telling me why you are disturbing my breakfast?”

Mr. Forrester produced a worn copy of the
Times
, which had been tucked beneath his arm. He thumped it on the table. “Is this some sort of a sick challenge to Macy, flaunting your worth?”

“Do not speak that name in my house.” Anger finally flushed my father’s voice, and he sat forward, folding his paper in half.

Mr. Forrester’s expression grew savage as he turned to view me. “What, are we worried about the Jezebel hearing me? She—”

“Now, see here.” Lord Dalry rose, his eyes blazing.

Before Lord Dalry could take a step, my father reached forward and grabbed his sleeve. “Honestly, Robert. Isn’t there some other household you can go and insult this morning? We’ve enough headaches with her presentation in three weeks.”

Mr. Forrester unclasped his cape and, with a snort, flung it on the floor in a sodden heap. “Do you have any idea how widespread this problem has now become? Everyone is inquiring for more news of the Emerald Heiress, and I mean everyone. Even the beggars on the street are clamoring for news of her. What were you thinking, announcing your wealth like that?”

“I didn’t.” My father gave Lord Dalry’s sleeve a fierce tug and silently demanded that he retake his seat, but was ignored. “That was the work of Lady Beatrice.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Mr. Forrester pulled a side chair from near the buffet and wedged it between Kate and Lord Dalry. He grabbed a yeast roll from the table, tore it, and shoved one half in his mouth as he flopped into a seat. “You’ve gambled more than you can handle. You’ve no choice but to either succeed or drown. You need me to carry her story and you know it.”

“Need you?” My father placed his folded paper to the side of his plate and crossed his arms. “So now we come to the real reason for your visit. Just how many papers have sold because of her story?”

“That has nothing to do with it.” Mr. Forrester made a face of disgust as he swallowed. “I’m willing to help you for the sake of friendship.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Mr. Forrester shoved the rest of the roll into his mouth, then, with the serving fork, dug through the pork cutlets as if
considering one. “The
Times
sold out by noon and had to run a second printing.”

My father closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes, he glared at Mr. Forrester as if blaming him. “So much for wanting no part in this, heh?”

“Are you really going to sit there and insult me?” Mr. Forrester looked up. “As I see it, you have a choice: either allow the other papers to start poking around for more information, or give me the exclusive and they’ll be forced to print what I do just to keep up with the demand. Within a month, I’ll make her the darling of London, making it harder for him to reclaim her.” Mr. Forrester ground his teeth as he looked toward me. “Speaking of which, we’ll also need to do whatever it takes to keep her under lock and key.” Lifting a dripping cutlet from the platter, he scanned the table for a plate to place it on. Dark-brown spots stained the tablecloth.

Lord Dalry shoved his plate to Mr. Forrester, eyeing him with aversion.

Mr. Forrester ignored him and shook his cutlet free, then made good use of my father’s thought-filled silence by stabbing a forkful of Lord Dalry’s breakfast as a sampling.

Silently, I prayed my father would refuse Mr. Forrester. But heaviness settled over my heart as I turned my gaze to the windows, for I knew my father wouldn’t remain silent this long unless he was going to accept Mr. Forrester’s offer. A thin mist wrapped the street in a chill. This entire situation had gone far beyond what I ever imagined when I sought sanctuary.

“All right,” my father finally said, slowly leaning forward. “You have the exclusive, but only if Isaac becomes a household name alongside her. I want his name drummed into every article. Her protector. Her hero. Her ever-faithful guardian. I don’t care how you do it, but make Isaac look like he walked straight out of Camelot in this story.”

“No.” Mr. Forrester’s fork clanked on his plate as he threw it down. “Absolutely not!”

“Then you may leave my house, and while you’re out, ask the
Times
to pay me a visit. I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to accommodate.”

Mr. Forrester stood, palms pressed against the table as he leaned toward Lord Dalry. “You don’t have to do this, Isaac. You know that you have my full support in anything else. I’d move mountains to influence for you, but do not tie yourself to this jade. It will be the death of you. This goes far beyond what Roy should and can ask of you. She’s a—”

“Sir.” Lord Dalry looked expressionless, but his deadly tone commanded respect. “You would do well to remember the position this lady holds in my life.”

I likewise stood and placed my napkin on the table, ready to leave. Before I could shove my chair out of the way, warm, strong fingers engulfed my left hand. I turned my gaze, surprised to find it was my father.

For the first time since we met, kindness filled his eyes. With a gentle nod, he directed me to retake my seat, to ignore Forrester, to trust him to handle this situation.

Across the table, a ghost of a smile played over Lord Dalry’s mouth as he gave my father an almost-imperceptible nod.

My heart pounded as I wondered whether he was coaching my father too. Part of me wanted to reject my father’s touch, for if Dalry suggested it, then it wasn’t my father’s true emotion, but something fabricated. Yet it was the first scrap of relationship I’d been fed from my father’s hand, and even if it wasn’t true, did I really want to discourage future attempts?

Barely able to keep tears of disappointment from my eyes, I retook my seat.

Who could have foreseen that in order for either of us to ever be whole again, our lives would need to be broken? And
who but a master hand could have guided us safely along such a path?

My father swallowed twice after I took my seat, perhaps not certain what to do next. Keeping my hand firmly in his, he returned to Mr. Forrester. “Well? You heard Isaac. Are you for us or against us?”

A dampened Mr. Forrester answered, plopping back into his seat and retrieving his fork. “I’ll do it. But she’s duping you, Roy, and you’re all falling prey to her manipulations.”

My father stood and pulled out my chair. Strength coursed through his arm as he helped me stand. Drawing me close, he placed an arm around me and kissed my forehead. For the barest of seconds, my desire to feel cared for rendered me nearly useless. There was strength here, a barrier that not even Macy could break through. But I steeled my heart against full acceptance. He’d already wounded me too often. And besides, he did not own my ultimate allegiance. Only Edward did.

“Isaac, take my daughter.” Clutching my elbow in an unrelenting grip, my father moved me toward Lord Dalry as if wishing to transfer my attempt to cling to safety.

“Surely there are some invitations she could work on. Forrester and I have matters to discuss.”

Lord Dalry took my arm with a gentleness that could have been a caress. “Sir, if I may request it, I think she should go to Lady Beatrice’s.”

My father’s jawline tightened. “For the last time, Isaac, no.”

About the hour when the sun fell in rich, gold slants throughout the west side of the house, my father’s angry voice tore me from the heavy pages of the book I’d been examining.

Outside, a thrush flitted on a nearby branch and chirped. I closed the book, feeling venturesome enough to take a peek.

“You have no understanding of the man.” My father’s voice
was harsh as I cracked open the door. “It’s not safe to allow her outside the house.”

“You have to trust her,” Lord Dalry said.

My father attempted a laugh, but it was full of anguish. “It’s not her that I don’t trust.” He rubbed his hand over his retreating hairline. “While I fear she’ll embarrass herself—we both know she will—I believe her sincere about playing her part. It’s him. You don’t understand, Isaac. It’s as though he can crawl through keyholes or emerge from the shadows at will. I know it in my very marrow; he’s just waiting for me to allow her to step outdoors.”

“I gave my word that she’d be there tomorrow.”

“You shouldn’t have, Isaac. It was rash of you to go and see her. I’m not allowing it. My daughter is not setting foot outdoors.”

“What has changed since the morning you promised Lady Beatrice could have her throughout the week? You told her she could shape your daughter. You’re going to lose Lady Beatrice’s support. I’ve been working with Julia, sir, but she needs a woman’s hand. It is evident that no one has taken pains to teach her. There’s only so much I can do.”

My father huffed and looked at his feet. “Give me time.”

I drew a deep breath, wanting neither to be trained by Lady Beatrice nor to remain here.

“I gave my word, sir. Please, do not make me a liar.”

“You only gave your word to force me, Isaac. Why shouldn’t I make you eat that promise?”

“Why do you think you can wait, sir? Lady Beatrice has already announced her. There’s so little time to prepare. Besides, I can’t court someone who’s not even out.”