Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (20 page)

My father gave him a sour look. “This isn’t a joking matter.”

“Am I laughing?”

“All right.” My father straightened and brushed off his sleeves. “You will follow the carriage to her house and back with my revolver.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“It’s the only way I’ll allow it.”

Lord Dalry threw his hands in the air. “I don’t even know what Macy looks like.”

“You’d feel his evil before he was within a hundred feet of you.”

“Sir, you’re sounding as paranoid as Forrester. Your revolver?”

“She’s not leaving this house unless I know you’re armed and protecting her.”

I hugged my book against my stomach, disliking the reminder of Macy’s long reach and recalling that someone here worked for him and I still hadn’t a clue who.

“Do you know how ludicrous you sound?”

“Isaac, this is the last time I’m offering this.”

“All right, I’ll do it, then, but this is absolutely silly.”

“You’ve gotten your way. Now leave me in peace.” My father turned to walk away, and I flew back to the couch.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lord Dalry’s finger traced the sentences in his book. As I sipped my tea, I wondered how he managed to look so mild when I knew in less than an hour he’d be following my carriage with a revolver.

Kate half stood and fluffed her skirt.

“Kate, for the last time, sit down.” Lord Dalry didn’t even lift his eyes from the page. His voice, at least, sounded strained. “Look at Miss Pierson. Act like her.”

“I hate London.” Kate threw herself against the back of her chair. “Yesterday I spent the entire day doing nothing.”

I gave her a sympathetic smile. Who wouldn’t hate being here?

“There are plenty of books,” Lord Dalry said. “You brought your sewing. If you’re bored, it’s your own fault.”

Kate fiddled with the cross around her neck. “You promised that this morning you’d show me the neighborhood.”

“I promised no such thing. I said I hoped to. Something more important has come up.”

“What?” Kate stopped squirming in her chair.

Lord Dalry closed his book and set it on the table. “Kate, your manners are absolutely horrid. Sit and remain silent.”

The door opened and we all straightened, expecting my father. Instead, Lady Beatrice entered, followed by Kinsley. Lord Dalry and I rose.

“Come kiss your grandmother.” She stretched her skeletal fingers toward us.

I slowly realized she was speaking to me, not Lord Dalry. I obeyed and pressed my lips against her gaunt cheek. Kissing Mama’s corpse had felt similar. “Good morning, La—Grandmamma.”

Her eyes were depths of cold. She brushed me aside and went to Lord Dalry. “I know if Isaac says something will happen, it happens. So I’m here to retrieve my granddaughter for myself. How are you this morning?” She patted his cheek.

“Well, as always,” he said with a smile. “Allow me to find you a seat. We’ve not eaten breakfast yet. Lord Pierson will arrive in less than two minutes. Will you join us?”

“Seat me across from Lord Pierson, but tell the footman not to set my place.”

Though James was standing right there, Lord Dalry relayed the message as he placed her at the table. When my father stalked in, his mouth puckered in dislike before he bowed to Lady Beatrice.

“You’ve kept me waiting two days, Roy.” Her knuckles looked swollen as she gripped the top of her walking cane. “That’s hardly like you. You’ve never allowed Isaac to be late for one appointment. I hope you aren’t setting a different standard for your daughter.”

“I could not spare my daughter until today.” My father shook out his napkin. “James, set her place.”

A flick of Lady Beatrice’s finger told James to remain where he was. “I have no need to wait upon invitation in this house. Had I wanted to join you, I’d have done so.”

Sausage, kippers, tomatoes, eggs scrambled with ham, and marmalade rolls were placed before us. Juice, tea, and coffee were poured.

Lady Beatrice turned to me. “You may drink tea, but no coffee. No sugar. No milk.” She turned to James. “Tell Pierrick that Miss Pierson needs to have an egg poached and plain toast. Under no circumstances is she to have butter.”

“My daughter will eat what she likes and as much as she likes,” my father said. “Go on, Julia, dish anything you like.”

Lady Beatrice’s laugh was more like a cackle. “Not if I’m sponsoring her, Roy.”

They glared across the table at each other. My father yanked his napkin from his collar. “Then don’t spons—”

“Sir.” Lord Dalry placed a warning hand on my father’s arm.

Lady Beatrice smirked, making me wonder how long she’d waited to have power over my father. I wrinkled my brow, wondering anew what this household had been like beforehand. My father gnashed his teeth, looking ready to throw Lady Beatrice on the street, so I laid my hand over his.

“Papa, I’m not even hungry. Please.”

Lord Dalry’s head snapped in my direction. A smile played on his lips as his eyes shone.

I felt myself blush under his approval even as annoyance prickled through me.

My father turned toward me, and his face evidenced that I’d struck a raw chord. He gripped my hand and swallowed, taking several seconds before he spoke, and even then his voice was gruff with emotion. “Where are you taking her today?”

“She needs new clothing.” Lady Beatrice seemed almost pleased by the leverage my father’s emotions gave her. “I’ve made an appointment for a fitting with Quill’s. Perhaps you remember them? They made two of your wife’s favorite dresses, or at least they were before you threw them into the fire as punishment.” Lady Beatrice drummed her fingers on the table, making each
click of her nails distinctive. “They’ll be making all my granddaughter’s gowns. Then we’re going to milliners and accessory shops. I want her to have new shoes, stockings, undergarments.” She narrowed her eyes. “I fear this will cost you a small fortune, Roy, even if I have to have real jewels sewn into her clothing.”

My father surprised me by laughing. “Spend as much as you like. At least she’s more deserving than your daughter.”

What emotion is one to feel during such discussion? My heart soared that my father had openly stated I was deserving, yet lamented the pain that crossed Lady Beatrice’s face. All at once the borrowed clothing I’d existed in since my arrival felt stuffy and irritating.

“Please, may I come?” Kate asked in a squeaky voice, watching Lady Beatrice with awe.

Lady Beatrice turned her gaze to new prey. “Who are you?”

Kate stood and curtsied. “My name is Katherine Mary Jane Dalry.”

“Dalry?” Lady Beatrice turned toward Lord Dalry. “Your sister, I presume?”

“Yes, forgive me.” Lord Dalry acknowledged his lapse of manners with a nod. “My sister and Miss Pierson’s travelling companion.”

“Does your sister meet with your approval, Isaac?”

Lord Dalry frowned. “Her manners need improvement, but she’s a happy soul.”

Lady Beatrice twisted her mouth. “For your sake, then, I’ll take her.”

The poached egg and toast were placed before me, but I’d lost my appetite long ago; besides, my father had not yet released my hand, making it impossible to eat. He sat staring at Lady Beatrice as though trying to send a warning that he would not tolerate anything happening to me. It was selfish, but I felt pleased.

Eventually, he noticed my hand still in his and retrieved the
Times
.

“I expect her back at five.” My father’s voice echoed through the hall as he followed us. “Not one minute late!”

Lady Beatrice maintained a glib expression as Kinsley placed her cape about her shoulders. A sticky silence filled the air, during which I resisted the urge to wipe my damp hands over my skirt.

“I make no promises,” Lady Beatrice eventually said, sweeping her long skirt from her way. She fastened her gaze on me. “Come, London awaits.”

My father gripped my arm, holding me in place. His face had grown ashen.

“Sir.” Lord Dalry took my arm from his. “She’ll be fine.”

When he released me, I hastened to catch up to Lady Beatrice’s retreating form. Keeping my chin tucked, I stepped outside. The heavy air reminded me at once that I was in London. The ash was so thick I had to cover my mouth to keep from breathing it in. Beyond the wrought-iron fence, Lady Beatrice’s carriage stood with plumed horses.

Miss Moray and Kate huddled next to a carriage behind ours. Miss Moray was speaking tenderly to Kate, brushing off the flakes of soot that landed on her cape. James caught my eye as he helped me step into the barouche. Relief flooded me. I’d all but forgotten he was to accompany us. He gave me a slight nod.

With dignity, Lady Beatrice joined me and waited until our carriage jolted before speaking. “Now that we’re alone, care to tell me who you really are?”

I felt sullen and decided to mimic her manner. “I have no desire for further acquaintance.”

She turned toward the window. “Please yourself.”

A few naked tree branches shook overhead as our carriage crawled through the residential street. A haze swallowed all but the towers and spires of the house nearest us. When we reached Park Lane, we turned, putting Hyde Park on our left. I forgot my
companion, enchanted by the early morning crowd. Where but in London would there already be so many people in the street at this hour?

Gentlemen rode on horses. Merry faces with ruby cheeks stuck out from beneath tall hats. Walking parties strolled along the sidewalks. I leaned forward, catching sight of a beggar child being jostled in the crowd. The gentry strode past her almost as if the poor child weren’t there at all. The barouche rounded another corner, and I twisted to catch one last glimpse.

“You’re acting positively common,” Lady Beatrice snapped. “Have you never been in a city before?”

“No.”

She huffed and primped her skirts. “What is your age?”

Keeping my eyes downcast, I pressed my mouth in a fine line.

“My daughter married your father nearly seventeen years ago. Say you are seventeen. No one would believe you are sixteen.”

Our carriage stopped before a building with a black awning that read
Quill’s
. Rows of display windows were streaked with London grime, though I had little doubt they’d been washed only hours ago. It was impossible to see the wares between the parasols and bonnets that crowded about the windows.

James opened the door and handed Lady Beatrice down first.

“Come along, dear.” With hauteur, Lady Beatrice turned and offered me her black-gloved hand. “It’s time we make Roy pay his dues.”

Without waiting for Miss Moray or Kate, she walked in a straight line to the store. Many nodded and curtsied, but she acknowledged none.

Before I ducked my head inside, I caught sight of Simmons mounted upon a steed. My brow furrowed. Had my father also armed him and given him instructions to follow me?

Inside, a tinkling bell announced us, and warmth tingled my cheeks. A stout woman turned slightly. Her promenade dress was a magnificent fawn silk gown trimmed with stiff lace and
velvet. She gave us a grave nod, but her eyes twinkled upon recognizing Lady Beatrice, who placed her card on the counter and rang the bell. A shopgirl with tired eyes stepped from the back, snatched the card, and disappeared behind a curtain.

“I’ll not be kept waiting,” Lady Beatrice murmured to Miss Moray.

While they were distracted, I observed a group of girls giggling behind fans. I shifted my weight, wondering if they’d guessed I didn’t truly belong amongst their class. Kate slipped her hand into mine, flooding me with comfort.

A flushed woman swept from the back room. “Lady Beatrice Kelsey.” She gushed her words as she gave a deep curtsy. “I am honored.” She turned toward me, hand over heart, eyes glowing. “Miss Pierson, I am humbled to be of service to you.”

The girls squealed, and whispers of
“the Emerald Heiress”
tittered about the room. My mouth dried as I peeked again, causing more giggles. One young lady bit her lip, then took two steps forward as if to shyly introduce herself.

“I wish for my granddaughter to be removed from the common room.” Lady Beatrice’s voice was able to freeze marrow as she eyed the girl.