Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (35 page)

Banishing emotion, I folded my hands over my lap, trying to appear dispassionate. Let him think I felt no regret for my words. Let them all think me wicked. I no longer cared.

“Roy, I need to know where Macy took her. Where—?”

“I forbid it! Now move from my path!” My father gave the door a forceful shove, bashing it against the wall, then stomped down the hall.

Forrester tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat, seemingly uncertain whether to follow him or attempt to question me. With a scowl, he turned and followed my father.

I bent over the map of London. My head throbbed as I took in a ragged breath.

My chair shifted suddenly to the right, and I lifted my gaze to find Isaac beside me.

“Julia?” His tone comforted and inquired.

I shook my head to show him I couldn’t yet speak.

It seemed to me he held his breath, battling his next course of action. “Whatever took place between you and your father can be mended. I promise. His temper has been out of sorts all day.” He rose and offered his arm. “Come, join me before the fire. I’ll read to you.”

I cupped my forehead in my hand, looking at the winding image of the Thames on the map below me. “Isaac, none of this is going to work. You’ve been kind to me, and I don’t want to deceive you. But this isn’t . . .” Tears choked me.

Questions plagued his eyes, but with an otherwise-emotionless expression, he took my arm and urged me to stand. I knew, even as I gathered my skirts to take the couch, he at least wasn’t going to question me.

I leaned my head against the arm of my father’s tufted sofa, unable to sleep, as Lord Dalry read poetry, his tranquil voice calming the atmosphere. Seeing wisdom in Mr. Macy’s suggestion, I’d forced myself to partake of tea and seedcake when James presented me with a tray. Warmth from the fire cocooned me, down pillows cushioned and velvet blankets covered me, yet for the last hour, disturbing thoughts had clung with deep hooks. I desired to go pace in my cold bedchamber, wringing my hands, yet the comforting presence of Isaac was so strong, I continued to lie still, feigning sleep.

“‘That this the meed of all my toils might be.’” Isaac paused and a page rustled. “‘To have a home, an English home, and thee! Vain repetition! Home and Thou are one—’”

The sound of creaking filled the chamber, before James said, “Sir.”

“Shh. Don’t wake her. What is it?”

“Lord Alexander and Mr. Jonathan Billingsby have arrived.” James must have stepped inside and closed the door. His voice lowered to a whisper. “Lord Alexander claims he rushed over the moment he heard of Miss Pierson’s ordeal. He insists on seeing her or he will be unable to sleep or eat.”

“Just brilliant,” Lord Dalry muttered, and I heard the book close. “Does he actually think she’s going to believe that fodder? If it’s not one wolf, it’s another.”

“Beg your pardon, sir?”

“Oh, don’t play deaf and dumb with me. I suspect you’ve pieced together quite a bit more than we would like.”

The fire crackled and I heard James shift. “Aye. I know well enough what’s scaring Lord Pierson into stormy tempers.” He cleared his throat. “If I may be so bold, it also seems to me the sooner you wed Miss Pierson, the better.”

Lord Dalry gave a rueful laugh, and his chair creaked. “I tend
to agree, but as it turns out, she can hardly stand my presence. I must be England’s worst suitor. What am I doing wrong?”

“You, sir? Absolutely nothing!” James’s voice grew light. “’Tis nothing more than woman’s wiles. She’s madly in love with you and just playing shy. Try waking her with a kiss.”

This was met with Lord Dalry’s golden laugh. “All right, enough. Step aside. Remain with her while I deal with yet another suitor. How many marriage offers have there been? Five?”

“Six, sir. The last one arrived yesterday, from Lord Alexander himself. But at least he’s seen her in person, which accounts for more than the others. I had the pleasure of hearing Master Pierson informing Mr. Forrester of the offer as they partook brandy. ’Tis a pity you weren’t present. Mr. Forrester contended for an hour this was the exact course of action that should be taken. By the end of the argument, Master Pierson agreed he would at least consider the future Earl of Kensington. Even went so far as to send an inquiry as to what sort of dowry would be expected.”

“To that lout? Are you serious? I’ll have Forrester’s head on a platter for that.”

“A better action would be to rid the house of the unwanted gents before his lordship learns they’re here.”

“All right, move aside.”

I heard the door close, followed by the rattle of coal sliding down a scuttle. Alarmed by this new information, I slit my eyes open and watched James jab the fire.

“It isn’t any of my business,” he said, his white wig looking orange in the light, “if my young mistress wishes to feign sleep, but I hope she will at least consider what she overheard. I would never be permitted to tell my mistress that her father is becoming tempted by other offers of marriage.” He started to rise, and I closed my eyes again. “Nor would I tell her that I’ve served as Master Isaac’s personal valet for three years and can swear he’s never been in love before now. It would be a smarmy shame if my mistress ended up with the likes of Lord
Alexander or Mr. Eramus Calvin when Master Isaac is willing to marry her.”

Some moments passed in silence before the door clicked again.

“Are they gone then, sir?” James asked. I heard the ring of the poker being slid back into place.

“Yes, and you have my direct orders to receive no visitors tonight. No matter who.”

“Very well, sir. Shall I prepare your evening wear?”

“No,” Lord Dalry said. “Our plans are cancelled. I’ll remain here with Miss Pierson while she sleeps.”

“Very well, sir.” James withdrew, leaving me far more agitated than he’d found me.

THREE NIGHTS LATER, I paused, pen suspended over paper. A drop of ebony splattered over the snow-white page. With a sigh, I tried to blot the ink but smudged my hand. Tears gathered, but I refused them. Since my encounter with Macy, they spilled too easily.

I shoved the post aside, wanting not to care that I hadn’t seen my father since that night, or that I was still being tucked out of existence. I glared at the post. My penmanship was so horrid, society probably gossiped I’d grown slipshod.

“Miss Josephine?” Kinsley’s kind voice rasped from the hall before he gently tapped on the door. “Are you in here?”

I set down my gold-and-tortoiseshell pen. Light from the sconce behind him shone through his sparse hair. “There are gentlemen callers who insisted on seeing the lady of the house.”

I felt myself pale as I pictured Macy standing in the foyer with his sardonic grin and black cape. Gooseflesh rose over my arms. James and Isaac had gone to a club earlier, and William
and my father left an hour after them. Simmons hadn’t been seen all day.

Rain pounded on the window as I debated how to handle the situation. “Please tell them I am not at home.”

He bowed, backing into the hall. “Very well, miss.”

Careful to keep my ink-stained hands from the silk material of my dress, I rose. After a count of twenty, hoping it gave Kinsley enough time, I tiptoed after him, my rustling dress scarcely more than a whisper.

The first voice I heard stirred life back into me, though I couldn’t quite place its owner.

“I do
not
have the wrong house, and I will
not
leave until I see Miss Julia Pierson!”

Kinsley’s reply was inaudible.

“No.
You
will march back down that hall, if it takes you another hour, and make certain she sees my card.”

“Honestly, Henry,” someone else said, “maybe we should just leave.”

For a second, I feared I wouldn’t be able to make my legs move. Henry—my Henry!—stood feet away, and my feet were glued to the floor. Then in the next instant, I rushed down the hall, holding my skirts.

Just past the entrance, Henry and Mr. Addams stood, dripping.

“Henry!” I shrieked.

He looked over and a huge grin spread across his face. With a laugh he opened wide his arms, and I flung myself into them.

He embraced me, lifting me off my feet. Not caring about the rain that ruined the silk fabric of my dress, I clung to him and breathed deeply of the scent of his coat and nearly wept. He used the same bay rum Edward did. There were also traces of the scent that clung to Auburn Manor. My homesickness crested such that I thought I’d never recover. I inhaled until I wept.

“Miss Josephine Anna Parkhurst, you will release that gentleman this instant.” Kinsley’s voice boomed behind me.

Henry gently set me on my feet. Still clinging to his lapels, I turned and found a master servant every bit as formidable as Reynolds was at Eastbourne. It was my first and only glimpse of the man lost to my father and Lord Dalry. “Imagine if your husband were to see you acting such. Shame on you! And you, young man.” He shook a finger at Henry. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

Henry grinned, nodding good-naturedly. “Forgive me.”

“I’ll have no more hooliganism under my watch. Is that clear?”

Ever the leader of our foursome, Henry indulged him properly, as only the eldest son of a peer can. Kinsley left, promising that he would be keeping his eye on us.

“Honestly,” Mr. Addams said as Kinsley pattered down the hall. “Henry, you’re lucky that’s the worst you received. How could you not know better than to lift her like that?”

“Oh, hush,” Henry said. “Must you spoil everything?” Then to me, “Is it that beastly?”

“It’s horrific. You’ve no idea!”

Henry looked me over with a critical eye and became serious before his gaze swept the hall, carefully viewing my surroundings. “Where’s your father, then? I desire a word with him.”

Alarmed, I shook my head. “He’s out. And be glad for it.”

Henry frowned. “Well, I’m not leaving until I’ve seen him myself.”

“Henry, you mustn’t!” I began.

“I say now, there’s no need to make such a rash decision!” Mr. Addams removed his hat and shook out the water before replacing it over his red hair. “You said we’d leave London as soon as you checked on her. Well, there she is. She’s perfectly fine. My mother’s going to disown me if I’m not back by Christmas. I promised her!”

“I’ve changed my mind.” Henry slipped from his cape. “Edward would want me to stay a few days.”

“He would want nothing of the sort!”

“Yes, he would.”

“No, he would not.”

Henry frowned. “I ought to know my own brother better than you.”

“My father won’t allow you to stay, regardless,” I managed between their bickering.

“There, you see.” Mr. Addams thanked me with a nod. “We’ve no choice but to leave.”

“It’s not my fault you refuse to pay for your own passage home.” Henry either refused to acknowledge what I’d said or hadn’t heard me. “If you’re going to take the charity of my carriage, you’ll have to obey my schedule.”

Mr. Addams took off his hat and squeezed water from it. “My word, Henry! Sometimes I wish you were the youngest of nine. A bit of poverty would straighten you rather well.”

When the library curtains had been opened and the fire built to a blaze, I had a better look at my visitors. Dark rings beneath their eyes suggested they were travel-weary. Both were thinner, likely due to a rigorous studying schedule.