Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (29 page)

“Why this intense look of fear?” Mr. Macy whispered gently.

My stomach hollowing, I lifted my gaze to where his white,
square-cut shirt framed his face. A knowing smile graced his lips as his mesmerizing eyes claimed me.

“I’ll not even punish you,” he said, hooking my chin and tilting it up, “though you probably shaved ten years off my life, running away from me like that. Have you any idea what Bradshawl’s men would have done to you had they found you?” With closed eyes, he leaned toward me.

My father grabbed his wrist. His knuckles were white. “Do not ever touch my daughter again.”

Mr. Macy raised his brows. “Won’t producing an heir become difficult? Come now, Roy, at least try to keep your demands reasonable, or we’re already off to a bad start.”

“Give her to me.”

I kept my chin tucked as my father pulled me from Mr. Macy’s embrace. With the jumble of collecting our outer wrappings, my father managed to keep me separated from Mr. Macy. Sunlight blinded me as he opened the door and trundled me down the steps.

“Take my daughter home,” he said to James, placing me in the care of our footman. “Fetch Isaac. Tell him I need him to return to the house immediately. Tell him what I’ve been fearing just happened.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Coming, Roy?” Mr. Macy’s voice sounded a short distance away.

Gritting his teeth, my father left me. James escorted me into the barouche, giving me only a fleeting glimpse of my father climbing inside Macy’s black landau.

Again and again, I wrung my hands as I paced the foyer. For at least an hour, neither my father nor Lord Dalry returned. My eyes stung from the tears I’d shed while pacing. I wanted to know what Mr. Macy was telling my father, or what my father was agreeing to.

I was pressing the palms of my hands against my forehead, as though I could prevent the fearful thoughts, when a series of raps sounded outside. I spun, facing the door.

My father stepped into the hall looking like a lion deprived of its mane. He scarcely noticed me as Kinsley removed his silk-lined cape. Pinching the bridge of his nose, my father said, “Bring me laudanum. One of my headaches is upon me.”

“Yes, sir.” Kinsley retreated.

“Where’s Isaac?” My father winced as he looked in my direction, then shielded his eyes.

“He hasn’t arrived yet.” My insides soured as I imagined how much money my father must have paid to make him look this stricken. Or did he plan to return me? I sank to the bench. “What did Mr. Macy say?”

My father’s jaw clenched. “You’re not allowed to speak of that man. Why do you continue to test me? So help me, the next time his name crosses your—”

The front door opened. Lord Dalry rushed into the hall with Forrester at his heels. A swirl of London’s stale air accompanied them. While Mr. Forrester shed his coat, Lord Dalry rushed to me and inspected me from head to toe. Relaxing, he pulled off his gloves and whispered, “What’s happening?”

“Macy was at the Northrums’.” My father rubbed his eyes. “We had a talk.”

Kinsley entered with a small glass on a tray. My father drank the milky liquid, then waved the butler away. “Robert, Isaac, join me in the smoking room.”

“May I stay with your daughter instead?” Lord Dalry set his cape and gloves on a chair.

My father glowered at me. “Actually, bring her. I have some questions for her.”

I placed my hands over my churning stomach, feeling shamed. Doubtlessly, my father’s questions had to do with the things Mr. Macy revealed to him about our time together.

“Are you all right?” Lord Dalry grasped my hands and helped me to my feet.

I nodded, allowing him to take my arm.

“All I want to know is how much he asked to keep silent about the matter,” Mr. Forrester said as he stomped after my father.

“He didn’t.” My father lowered his voice, but I still heard what he said as they turned down a passage. “He offered to buy her from me.”

Mr. Forrester didn’t try to stifle his bark. “What?”

“Blast it, man, not so loud.”

“Surely you jest! How much did he offer?”

I returned my gaze to Lord Dalry, but he likewise followed their conversation.

“More than I thought he could afford.” My father unlocked and opened a door I’d never seen before. Stale tobacco and smoky scents drifted into the hall. Tall windows lit the space. Brown leather chairs and couches were spread throughout the room, set at odd angles. Different ports and spirits lined the tables between the settings, ready to be served. On the far wall, there were several mounted heads—boar, lion, and bear, amongst others.

While my father poured a huge tumblerful of whiskey, Lord Dalry led me to a couch. “That’s the last time she leaves this house.” My father took a swig from his tumbler. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Honestly, sir!” Lord Dalry placed a hand on his hip. “She just came out. Aren’t you overreacting a bit? You can’t remove her from society because of one man.”

“We’ll have an occasional dinner. She can invite some of her young lady friends for tea.”

“What young friends? She hasn’t even had a chance to form attachments.”

My father shook his head. “Isaac, I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to advancing her. Not now. Not yet.”

“Sir, you must at least hear me out. You’re going to make her seem odd, draw suspicion that there’s something wrong—”

My father held up a hand to him and turned to me. “What did Macy say to you while you were alone?”

“How delightful!” Mr. Forrester poured himself a drink. “Now she has her next set of orders. How could you have left her alone with him?”

I hesitated. What if my father considered it an option to give me back to Mr. Macy? What if I answered incorrectly?

“It’s all right,” Lord Dalry said as if reading my thoughts. “You have nothing to fear. No one is going to become upset.”

Mr. Forrester laughed. “You’re wrong there, Isaac. She’ll have us all screaming at each other before the interview is finished, but do go on, Julia. Do tell.”

My father cocked his head, showing that he was waiting, so I smoothed my skirt. “H-he said he was arranging a private rendezvous for us.” Heat rose through my face as I realized how it sounded. “To talk, I mean.”

Mr. Forrester chuffed. “Yes, I’m sure that’s all the two of you ever do.”

“Where?” my father asked, struggling to sit straight.

I could feel my color heightening. “He didn’t say.”

“When?”

“I—I don’t know.”

With a growl, my father set his drink aside. “I expect a direct answer to my next question. Were you about to kiss him when I entered the hall?”

“Of course she was.” Forrester snorted. “Why are you so shocked? This is what I’ve been telling you all along. She’s his lover.”

“Quiet. I want to hear my daughter.”

I avoided Lord Dalry’s questioning gaze, praying he had been truthful when he’d said he always knew whether someone was lying or not. “No, I wasn’t about to kiss him.”

“How boldly you sit there and fib.” My father rose. “I saw. I saw how he leaned over you. Are you denying it now?”

“No.” My voice caught. “I’m not denying it. I wasn’t about to kiss him. He was about to kiss me.”

“Same difference,” Mr. Forrester said, “unless you were poised to slap him.”

My father cocked an eyebrow at me, so I felt obliged to say something. How could I explain the mastery Macy held over me when he was near? “I—I—”

“Say nothing,” Lord Dalry instructed, briefly resting his fingers on my arm. Then he rose. “Whose opinion matters here more than mine? I take issue with him for trying to kiss her, not with Julia. I’ll not allow either of you to question her in this manner.”

“The issue here isn’t whether Macy tried to kiss her or she him,” Mr. Forrester said. “The issue is whether she’s lying about seeking protection. Macy girls are the cleverest liars you’ll ever meet. She’s duping us and especially you, Isaac.”

My father groaned and again pinched his nose as he sank back into his seat. “Then she’s no Macy girl. She’s the worst liar I’ve ever seen. Macy challenged her story before a group of people and she couldn’t even fabricate believable answers.”

“Unless she was trying to fail.”

“Why? So that he can offer me a mint to take her off my hands? That makes even less sense. If you’re so convinced she’s his spy, then give me a reasonable answer as to why he sent her.”

Mr. Forrester gestured toward me, his drink sloshing over his cup. “Why would someone pay for her? She’s not even pretty.”

“Lord Pierson.” Lord Dalry’s voice exuded anger. “This man is your guest, but do not ask me to bear this insult any longer. If you refuse to address this, I will cut all association with him. Newspaper or no newspaper—”

“Isaac!” The tremor in my father’s voice made us all stare.
It sounded a command and a plea. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He fell from his chair to one knee. Grey tinged his face. “Isaac.”

Uncertain what was happening, I stood to rush to his side, but Lord Dalry caught my wrist. “No. Find Simmons or James. Hurry. Tell them your father’s malady is upon him.”

My father grimaced with pain as he pressed his forehead into the seat cushion of his chair.

Several things happened at once. Lord Dalry knelt next to my father, and as he braced him, my father’s eyes rolled and he slumped, unconscious. Mr. Forrester grabbed my wrist and shoved me out the door and shut it.

MY FATHER and I never spoke about those following weeks. Our supposed nightly meetings never took place. It was as if Mr. Macy’s reentrance into our lives cut off all hope for kindling a relationship. Later in life, perhaps, we could have discussed his decision to yank me from society. But after the great scandal and its heavy toll, we never were able to bring ourselves to discuss that period.

I was like an actress shoved on stage and greeted with thunderous applause, only to have a hand reach out from behind the curtain and snatch me from sight again.

The effect was devastating. I went from being too busy to confront the sadness at having lost Mama and Edward to renewed hours of empty silence. While waiting for Lady Dalry’s arrangements, Kate spent days at a time at her cousins’ houses—and the Dalrys had many spread across London. My father camped at his clubs, it seemed to me, shunning all sight of me. He likewise kept Lord Dalry busy night and day, worried that without his continued influence, they’d lose alliances.

Midway through December, I penned the last acceptance and stared moodily at it. My handwriting was tight and drops of ink smudged it. If my father were to see it, he’d make me rewrite it, but I didn’t care. He and Lord Dalry were accepting invitation after invitation while I never went anywhere.

The first week of my seclusion, I felt relief and was glad for the chance to slow down and recuperate. Thoughts of Edward carried me. While I answered the morning correspondences, I envisioned that somewhere Edward was also at work in his parish. By tea, I ignored the windy shrieks that rattled the panes by recalling our childish romps through the woods. At nightfall, after partaking of an empty dinner and sewing in an empty room, I lulled myself to sleep by picturing the life we would build when this was over.

Yet no soul can endure continual solitude, not even mine, which had been trained for it.

As the week turned into a fortnight, the isolation became unbearable and I hungered for human companionship. Even my resistance to Lord Dalry weakened, though I rarely saw him either. Thus, nearly two weeks before Christmas, when footsteps unexpectedly rang in the hall, headed in my direction, I roused from my stupor, set aside my pen, and stared at the door.

Lord Dalry appeared, his cheeks red with excitement. “Oh, good! I feared I wouldn’t find you in time.”

I was so desirous for companionship, I nearly welcomed him with the enthusiasm I felt. Just in time I remembered myself and borrowed his polished expression. “I fear I do not understand you. Time for what?”

He laughed. “We’re going out!”

“Out!” I rose so quickly, I knocked my knee against the wooden desk leg, scattering the slew of Christmas invitations I’d just sorted. “Out? Truly? Where? A Christmas tea?”

His face fell slightly. “Your father is about to make his charitable Christmas donations. You’re to join us.”