Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (47 page)

The image of hurt gripping Edward’s face as I uttered those dreadful words came back, and I began to cry anew. “I’m lost, Isaac. I am so lost.”

“You are not lost.” He drew me to him and cradled me against his chest. “I have you in my keeping, and I know where we’re going.”

I clung to his silk and velvet dressing gown, accepting the comfort of his embrace, if not his words. I’d seen the way Edward had glared at Isaac. They were enemies, and I was in the wrong arms. New sobs rose. What did any of it matter? I’d betrayed Edward in every way a person could.

“No!” Isaac gave me a small shake. “Collect yourself before
your father finds me unchaperoned in bed with you. Even my influence doesn’t carry that far.” Isaac produced a handkerchief. “Here.”

I shook my head. I’d cried so long that even silk would irritate my eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but the pounding of servants running down the hall alerted us. Isaac wasted no time disentangling himself from the covers and bed. My father’s heavy voice carried from the foyer as Isaac opened the door and slipped from my bedchamber.

I shut my eyes, praying he wasn’t spotted. Already the situation was more than I could endure. Was it possible for a person to become undone? Instead of my father’s ranting, however, I heard Isaac greet him as he started down the steps.

Weary, I removed my remaining earring, then leaned against the headboard. Isaac had calmed me but had not extracted the deep ache. Nothing ever would.

On the landing, I heard my father say, “Is she still awake?”

“Yes, sir. I just checked on her.”

The door opened and my father entered. His eyes narrowed as he took in my swollen nose and red-rimmed eyes. “What happened?”

Isaac shifted behind him. “Reverend Auburn was at the opera, sir.”

My father drew to his full height. “Julia, how shameful. You’re as good as married to Isaac. Control yourself.”

Isaac wedged himself between my father and the threshold in order to gain entrance to my room. “It wasn’t seeing Reverend Auburn, sir. He tried to speak with her, and she . . . she had to cut him.”

My father yanked off his silk scarf, his scowl relaxing. “Well, if he was foolish enough to approach her, then he deserved it. He knew better, Julia. You only did what you had to.”

Isaac frowned but didn’t dispute my father.

My father gave my face another glance, then flushed red. “It’s just a combination of nerves.” He came to my bedside and drew back one corner of the covers. “Too many things all combined into one night. Sleep now, Julia. Tomorrow you’ll stay home.” He waited until I slipped my feet into the cool pockets of the sheets, then looked thoughtful. “For the next week or two, I’ll keep you here.”

I set my teeth and silently accused him with my gaze. His decision had nothing to do with my welfare. He feared I would meet Edward again. We both knew it. I had sacrificed my happiness for him, and this was the height of our relationship?

“It works out well,” my father continued, ignoring my tacit assault and keying off my lamp. He backed toward the door. “With Eramus’s brash actions, I’d rather not keep their names paired. Rumor has it, he lost a fortune tonight at the tables.”

When I next opened my eyes, my room was filled with sun. I glanced at my gown, still crumpled on the floor, then realized that my father must have ordered Miss Moray to allow me to sleep without disturbances. Having no wish to see her either, I slid from the bed and saw to my own toilette.

Tears rose as I touched Edward’s pin. Though there wasn’t any hope for us now, I couldn’t bear the thought of becoming betrothed to Isaac the morning after betraying Edward. Pinning it on, I started down the steps.

Mr. Forrester emerged from the library as soon as my shoes clacked against the wooden floor. “Oh, it’s only you.” He lowered the open book with a sneer. “Young ladies shouldn’t wear hard-soled shoes. It’s unbecoming.”

“And old men shouldn’t try to have wit, for it reveals the depth of their stupidity!”

Mr. Forrester’s steps rang through the foyer. “If you had any
sense, you’d confess your knowledge about what happened last night.”

I spun, despising him for daring to talk to me about the opera.

Mr. Forrester wrinkled his face in disgust. “So you did know. I knew you weren’t to be trusted. Get out of my sight.” He threw his book at me, but it sailed over my left shoulder.

Rage boiled over. I might have ruined my life, but I was done putting up with this buffoon. I ran, snatched up the book, and hurled it back. The corner hit him just above the eye.

“I hate you!” I screamed, picking up the closest object—a rare vase. I hurled it at Forrester, but he stepped aside and it smashed against the wall.

He scrambled to use the library door as a shield. “Here now! There’s no call for—”

I attempted to throw a bust of Caesar, but it was too heavy and landed with a thud near my feet. It cracked. I grabbed my father’s walking stick from where it rested against the table.

“Give me that!” Mr. Forrester left his sanctuary and lunged for the stick.

I swung at his head and missed just before Isaac’s face appeared over the second-floor banister. He took the stairs by threes and caught me from behind, wrapping strong arms about my waist, lifting me from my feet. “Julia. Stop this. Right now.”

When my anger broke, there was only grief. I sobbed anew as Mr. Forrester plucked the cane, midswing, and towered over me.

“What did you do to her?” Isaac screamed, pulling me close.

Mr. Forrester touched the forming goose egg on his head. “You’re taking her side? That banshee of yours tried to kill me. That’s what’s going on. I just proved once and for all she’s working for Macy. Where’s Roy? He’s going to hear this.”

“He’s out.” Isaac stepped away. His face burned with anger, and shaving lotion ran down his chin and neck. He lifted the front of his shirt, revealing a line of hair down his stomach as he wiped his face.

“Make him leave.” I pointed to Mr. Forrester. “Make him leave this house.”

Isaac wiped his eyes with his sleeve and repeated, “What did you do to her?”

“Has this entire household gone mad?” Mr. Forrester pointed at the shilling-size egg on his head with an exaggerated motion. “
I’m
the injured party here. Have I ever laid a hand on a woman? Do you really think that of me?”

“You threw the book at me.”

Mr. Forrester leaned near. “And I’m beginning to wish I had aimed.”

Isaac held up his hands for peace. “Julia, please. I cannot send Mr. Forrester away until I get to the bottom of this.” He wiped his neck again, frowning. “I’m hardly dressed for this conversation.” He turned and shouted, “James!”

“Sir?” He appeared so quickly it was clear he’d been eavesdropping.

“Take Julia to breakfast, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

In the dining room, James fussed over me, pouring tea, setting the fruit dish before me. He ignored Mr. Forrester’s request for coffee.

“Just wait until your father arrives.” Mr. Forrester shook out his napkin and grabbed a pear. “If he shies from beating you for that shameful display, I’ll volunteer.”

I stared at my plate, wondering where Edward was this morning and if he felt as heartbroken as I did.

Isaac entered wearing linens instead of silks, so I knew he had no plans to leave this morning. He took his seat and held his coffee cup between his hands. “James, tell Pierrick I want poached eggs with kippers and tomatoes. I’m not eating one of his blasted French breakfasts. Not this morning.”

“Have him send the croissants, though.” Mr. Forrester
continued to probe the bump over his eye. “Bring plenty of preserves with those too.”

“I want both of your attention,” Isaac said, watching his cup as James poured coffee. “I want to know what happened. Julia, I’m allowing Forrester to speak first. I’m asking you to remain silent until he finishes.”

“I’ll talk when he leaves.” Mr. Forrester pointed to James, who took the hint and shut the doors. Mr. Forrester stood and leaned so far over the table, his frock coat touched our dishes. He selected the
Times
, the
Morning Gazette
, the
Penny Post
, and the
Daily Tidings
. “See the headlines? She knew Macy was going to set those fires but said nothing.”

I gave him a shocked look. “You can’t actually believe that.”

Isaac snorted and scanned the front page of the
Times
. “Of all the stupidity! Of course she had no knowledge. And for that matter, how do you even know it was Macy? Do you have proof?”

“She’s the proof. When I mentioned last night to her, you should have seen her face.”

Isaac’s expression suggested he found Mr. Forrester to be a half-wit. “I thought you were in the news business. How can you not know what’s truly upsetting her?”

Mr. Forrester wasn’t listening. “If it wasn’t the fire, why should she have a violent reaction because I said I knew about last night?”

“Isaac, he threw a book at me,” I cried, unable to sit silently.

“You deserve far worse.”

“You’re despicable and—”

“Julia, even if he refuses to,
you
will act genteel.” Isaac looked at Forrester. “We are at Lord Pierson’s table. We are not barbarians, we are not Americans, and every person here is capable of worthy conduct.”

“Did she send or receive any messages last night?” Mr. Forrester asked. “Find out that much.”

“She was at the opera with me.” Isaac’s voice was black.

James chose that moment to enter with a squeaky-wheeled cart.

“James, last night did Miss Pierson send or receive a message?” Mr. Forrester asked.

The pitying look James gave informed me he knew what had happened at the opera. He laid croissants on the table. “No, sir.”

Mr. Forrester folded his arms over the table and leaned forward. “Well, did anything out of the ordinary happen last night, James?”

James paused, and I held my breath. “Yes, sir, but I’ve been waiting to tell Master Isaac about it in private.”

“What is it?” Mr. Forrester demanded.

James nodded in my direction. “Sir, if I may request, I would rather not say with a lady present in the room.”

Curiosity sparked in Isaac’s eyes. “Go on, James.”

James took a breath. “Well, sir, sometime near dawn, Bruno kept disturbing the neighborhood by barking. The coachman was with Simmons, and quite frankly, I’ve had problems managing the groom on duty, so I went to lock Bruno in the stable myself. By the time I got my trousers, robe, and slippers and arrived at the stable . . .” James licked his lips and again nodded in my direction.

“Go on. Finish the tale,” Isaac said.

“Someone had beat the dog to death, sir.”

I sucked in my breath and covered my mouth. Cold tingled up and down my body.

“Beat him?” Isaac asked. “What on earth? Who?”

“I don’t rightly know, sir. The groom returned home and confessed to drinking in a part of London his mother would be ashamed of.”

“Where is this groom?”

“Still retching, I should imagine. I’ve been waiting for you or Lord Pierson to have time to discuss the matter.”

“Relieve the groom of his duties, without reference and no more pay than he’s due.”

“Yes, sir.” James bowed. “Is there anything else?”

“No, leave. We wish to dine in private.”

“Very well, sir.”

While James rolled the cart from the room, Isaac addressed Mr. Forrester. “You don’t suppose it was Macy, do you?”

“Give her lover more credit than that,” Mr. Forrester said. “He only beats people to death, not canines. There were some vagrants in Hyde Park last night terrorizing this area. They didn’t make front page because of the fire. It was most likely them.”

Isaac made no response but started to dig through the stack of newspapers. He scanned the society pages of three and handed them over to Forrester. “If you wish to know about Julia’s reaction, here are the stories covering last night. Why weren’t you at the opera? I thought you were covering this.”

Mr. Forrester scowled and displayed the headline covering the fires. “Something else came up that required my time. Besides, I told you, I think it’s a bad idea to keep your names linked now that she’s established. I beg you, Isaac, let her go.”

As he read the articles, however, Forrester’s face evidenced distress at having missed another newspaper sensation. I fastened my gaze outdoors, glad that if nothing else, Forrester wouldn’t profit from Edward’s slight.