Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (33 page)

“Churchill? The solicitor?”

My fingers felt frozen as I waited to see how he would react to my knowing about that murder too. The look on his face was nothing short of incredulous.

He rubbed his forehead as if uncertain how to address this matter. “Does it make any sense for me to finance a deeper investigation into his murder, if I had done it? Especially when I could have been rid of an additional problem at the same time.”

I crinkled my brow to show him I didn’t understand.

“Forgive me, but I wouldn’t have wept to see your lover dangle. Yet for your sake, I spared no expense to free him.”

His words were incomprehensible at first, but then as I considered how long Isaac had remained at Am Meer, my father’s expression as he read my letters, and the news that was so devastating Elizabeth wished to be the one to tell me, I slowly understood. “They accused Edward of killing Churchill!”

“Did your father not tell you?”

That my father and Isaac would choose to keep something of that magnitude from me infuriated me. I rose, needing space. “What happened? Tell me! I need to know.”

With maddening calmness, Mr. Macy inclined against the back of the couch. “Edward was seen running from the scene of the crime, right before he disappeared for several days. Shall we say that certain conclusions were drawn?”

I felt so enraged I could have flown at him. “You mean you led people to believe he did it.”

He frowned with displeasure. “
I
wasn’t on hand either. Something rather dear to my heart disappeared that night.
I thought Bradshawl’s men had taken you. You have no idea what I underwent fearing for your life.” He looked askance, and his face was molded with an expression of pain. He shook off his thought and returned his attention to me. “When I realized Bradshawl’s men didn’t have you, I rode as hard as I could back to Adelia’s. Edward had returned by then, but despite the numerous beatings, he refused to talk about his whereabouts.”

I wanted to cry, envisioning Edward jailed, unable to defend himself as he was questioned. Of course Edward would never have confessed the truth. It would have betrayed me.

I spun toward Mr. Macy. “How badly was he injured?”

An expression I couldn’t read crossed his face as he withdrew and lit a cigarette. “How wonderfully female you are. Here, your husband informs you he was nearly butchered trying to save you, and your response is to plead for information about your lover.” He closed his eyes and puffed on his cig. “He was less bruised than I was.”

“What happened?”

A lazy wreath of smoke wafted above him as he leaned back, eyes still closed. “I told you. I paid for his legal fees, I paid for a more thorough investigation, and I paid with a black eye, when Edward finally was free.”

“Why?”

He grinned, then chuckled. “Apparently he didn’t take it well when I asked him if he enjoyed my wife. Ironic, isn’t it? The cuckolded husband being the one punched.”

I felt so frustrated I could have screamed. Instead, I cried.

He released a deep breath, streaming smoke. When he spoke again, his voice chuckled. “No weeping, sweetheart. I forget how serious the romantic notions of the young are. It’s bad enough my men wonder why I must kidnap my own wife to hold a conversation with her, without having her leave my house with streaked eyes. Forgive me. Sit.”

My anger swept from me, for I’d not missed his hint that I
would leave. Rather than occupy the sofa with him, I edged to the chair. “Why did you pay to help Edward?”

“Had I known your father would advertise your whereabouts, I wouldn’t have bothered. As it was, I couldn’t allow the only person who knew my wife’s whereabouts to be hanged.”

“How did you convince them he was innocent?”

“Darling, the evidence was everywhere. Didn’t you read about the case in the papers?”

The papers. I folded my arms over my stomach, deciding that I despised the publications. “No. I don’t read them.”

He laughed. “All those coded messages, and you haven’t read even one?”

I said nothing.

“How on earth are you spending your days, then?”

This I had no wish to answer, nor did I wish for him to know that life with my father pained me. Mimicking Isaac, I adapted an aloof look, one of complete boredom, then shrugged.

The muscles around his mouth twitched. “Is it truly that bad, darling?”

His question brought on sadness, a sensation that I was estranged from any sense of home or family. I took care to display no hint of desolation, yet he saw it anyway.

His eyes sharpened as gravity replaced his facetiousness. Cursing, he leaned forward and stamped out his cigarette. “I have half a mind to punish Roy for his role in creating that expression. It borders on absurd that my wife sits here near tears, subjecting herself to a temper like his, because of a series of misunderstandings.”

My voice would have betrayed me further, so I did not state that it wasn’t a series of misunderstandings. Instead I studied him. He watched me with the amusement I’d often seen while at Eastbourne.

“We have quite a problem that we need to tackle. The last time you ran away, you blamed me for the gossip that engulfed
us. I have no desire to lose your goodwill twice in such a manner. Your past scandal is insignificant compared to your current one. Rather than heighten your fall from grace, I’d prefer to extend my offer of protection and a chance to avoid the coming flood.”

“I saw your offered protection at Lady Northrum’s. No thank you. You tried your best to expose me.”

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. “Had I wanted you exposed, darling, all of London would be astir with the gossip that you are none other than the elusive Mrs. Macy. That demonstration was strictly to catch your father’s attention. He turns away every inquiry and request for contact. He refuses to acknowledge me. Which brings me to why you are here. I know you will listen.” He stood and sauntered to the decanters. “Brandy?”

I shook my head. “It’s unladylike.”

He roared with laughter as he poured two drinks. “I’m glad your father has taken it upon himself to coerce some manners into you, for you were rather lacking. However, let’s not overcompensate. Besides—” he slid onto the sofa—“my wife is allowed to drink whatever she pleases.”

I accepted the snifter, but for some unfathomable reason, I pictured Isaac giving me a quick shake of his head.

Mr. Macy rested against the arm of the sofa and sipped, waiting. He said nothing while the clock ticked and the fire crackled. Gradually I understood that he had no intentions of finishing our discourse until I partook with him. But why?

I stared at the decanter and the snifters lined upside down on the tray next to it. Memory of Forrester running his finger along the bottom of a tumbler in Eastbourne’s dining room came to mind. I also considered the first night I met with Mr. Macy. He’d pressed me to drink that night as well.

“You still wear your thoughts plainly upon your face.” Mr. Macy spoke in a sleek and unapologetic tone. “The very way you’re sitting ought to give you a clue.”

I realized my elbows were clutched close to my side, and
I hunched over my knees as if I were trying to make myself as small as possible. Every muscle in my body felt stiff. I met his dark eyes, understanding. He wished me to relax.

I sniffed the brandy. If, as in a faerie tale, I must drink a magic potion to go home, I would. Warmth slipped into my stomach. Little by little my fingers lost their hollow feeling, and I finally sank back into my seat.

“Do you feel capable of a business conversation yet?” Mr. Macy rose and poured himself another drink, then settled into the nook of the couch across from me.

“Business?”

His mouth slanted in a wry smile. “Yes, dear. No more kisses. You’ve gotten yourself rather entangled. Since your father refuses to acknowledge this, I have no choice but to talk legalities with my wife, whom I’d rather be seducing. How well do you understand the law surrounding our marriage?” From a nearby table he lifted a document and handed it to me.

I feared to touch it. “What is it?”

“For a politician, your father isn’t as brilliant as his reputation. He never should have outlined his arguments against the legality of our union to me. I’ve taken the issue of our marriage to the Doctors’ Commons. Here is the irrefutable proof that you are mine.”

Ice ran through my veins as I took the papers. There was no need to read it. I believed him.

“Tell your father. The discourse is documented, so he can find it easily enough to read for himself, should he disbelieve you.”

“You are mine.”
Macy’s statement continued to cycle through my thoughts.

“You needn’t look so forlorn.” Mr. Macy switched seats, so that he now perched on the edge of a nearby table. I felt his fingers caressing my cheek. “Have I not proven myself a trustworthy husband? Even now I am proving it by attempting to hold back the scandal that is sure to break.”

“My father will dispute this marriage at all cost.”

“Really? Do you think he’ll expose himself to do so? Even if he would, let him try. He believes his influence would sway the outcome, but I know the dirty, well-hidden secrets of every member amongst the gentry. This, however, is a discussion for your father and me, whereas you and I have different problems to solve. Consider this my fair warning to you, dearest. I’ll not have you accuse me of ruining your life. I would very much like to structure your return without further damage to your reputation.”

I stared at the document in my hands, feeling chills spread over my body. Deep within, I sensed he wasn’t making idle threats. My longing for Edward crested and grew so sharp I could scarcely think. I wanted guidance and didn’t trust anyone except him.

Holding back tears, I glanced at the clock, wondering if enough time had passed to satisfy Macy and whether he would release me. “May I go and discuss this with my father?”

A weary look replaced his studying expression. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. “You have no idea how much it pains me to return you. If you knew half of what I know about R—” He bit off his own statement, looking vexed.

“How long do I have to consider your offer?”

“Not my offer, darling; my warning. There’s no time limit. I’d rather you return of your own volition. I need to know you trust me and will stay put. Had one of Bradshawl’s men intercepted you that night, you’d have been tortured and killed, just for the honor of being my wife. At least now, you’re safe in your nest, with my enemies having no idea where my most precious possession is tucked. Stay until you’re weary of being bullied and want freedom.” He kissed my cheek. “Yet be advised, my tolerance has limits. I’ve already tolerated one lover while we’re newlyweds. Don’t ask me to stomach another.”

“I have no interest in Lord Dalry, thank you.”

He laughed. “Remain here. I’m going to dress so I can take you home.”

AN EASTERLY WIND whipped my skirts and skittered leaves as we retired from Mr. Macy’s residence. The brisk air served to revive me, lifting Macy’s spell, waking sensibilities.

Rooke scowled, turning up his collar. To Mr. Macy’s great amusement, I’d requested a chaperone, lest a rumor spread that I was out alone with a gentleman.

I scrutinized his terraced row house. It matched every other house lining the street, betraying nothing of the corruptness inside.

“I’ve added lions to differentiate mine,” Mr. Macy said.

Beneath windows reflecting the turbid sky, engraved lion faces emerged from the stone window boxes and roared around the rings in their mouths. I stared at their teeth, dismayed, until Macy’s hand directed me toward his landau.

Rooke entered the carriage behind me, then pulled his hat over his eyes.

“You must not believe the things your father says about me.” Mr. Macy shut the drapes, ensconcing us in shadow.

I held the top of my cape, trying to expunge the cold, but my teeth chattered. “Your name isn’t permitted to be spoken aloud in his house.”

“Really?” Mr. Macy’s brows elevated. “Then he must know he’ll eventually be forced to surrender you. But come now, doesn’t Forrester at least mention me?”

“Yes,” I replied moodily. “Continually. He accuses me of being your spy.”

Mr. Macy laughed, leaning back in his seat. “He must think me desperate if I’m recruiting the likes of you. You’re scarcely the type of girl I’d use to accomplish my purposes.”

I bent my head. Humiliation mingled with indignation as I glanced at Rooke for his reaction.

“Julia, sweetheart.” Macy turned me by the chin to face him. “I meant no wound. You know I regard you as my most valued treasure.”

I made no reply. All I wanted was for this ordeal to be finished; I would do whatever I must to get back to London House. I would not argue; I would not speak.

Though the houses had suggested we were near my father’s residence, we travelled for the better part of an hour before halting. Macy disembarked, ordering Rooke to stay, and then extended his hand. I knew we were at London House the moment I saw the curb and the unique pattern of brick corbels that extended from our house.

I stood, taking in the changes wrought since morning. No longer did London House appear well regulated and businesslike. The open gate creaked in the wind. Muddy footprints were layered from street to door, evidence that a throng of people had trundled up and down the stairs since morning.