Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (49 page)

I dove for the timepiece. His foot crushed my wrist, holding me in place.

A grotesque snarl tangled his features before he ripped the poker from the coals. “You all think you’re so much better than me! Everyone thinks Isaac is such a perfect example! Well, let’s see how the leech likes having his precious bride’s face marred.”

Time slowed as I calculated how hard I’d have to yank my hand from underneath Eramus’s foot in order to cause him to lose his balance. Closing my eyes, I managed to relax my arm before I wrenched it back with my full weight. My forearm screamed in pain, but Eramus stumbled backwards, hitting his head on the mantel.

I remember my absolute panic as I found my feet, for I recall that my underpinnings made standing difficult. I have no memory of leaving the chamber and running through the front hall, though I can remember the sensation of being pushed down the front stairs. My head struck the last step. Warmth trickled down my scalp. I blinked, trying to make sense of Eramus’s silhouetted form standing in the doorway of London House.

Dazed, I struggled to my feet, grabbing a rock.

As if drunk on my fear, Eramus took each step one at a time.

Tottering, I grasped one of the fleurs-de-lis and opened the gate to the street. For once, the street was empty. No street sweepers or carriages were present. I ran, feeling dirt and snow on the cobblestone beneath my stocking feet. I barely made it to Chap Street before I was winded. My stays wouldn’t allow me to breathe.

I doubled over, gasping, wondering where to go. My eyes followed the familiar route to Lady Beatrice’s house, but what good could she do? Every window in the Billingsby house was dark.

Hyde Park.

The words formed in my thoughts. I glanced at the hazy glow of lamps in the near distance. Hadn’t Forrester thought it possible the vagrants from last night might have wandered to our street? Surely there would be people there, or at least somewhere to hide. I wiped blood from my eyes, gathering the last of my strength, then dashed across the first street.

A hard wind picked up my hair, whipping it around my face, making it impossible to see. Having no choice, I turned temporarily, praying that Eramus couldn’t walk against the gale.

It was then I saw it.

Only one more street over stood a house I’d seen before, distinguished by fearsome carved lions emerging from stone window boxes.

Without thought, I changed course. My lungs screamed for oxygen as I lunged toward my last hope. Behind me, metal clattered over cobblestone, making me wonder if Eramus had thrown aside the poker to help him gain speed. It gave me the last burst of energy I needed.

Seconds later, my free hand frantically grasped at the stairs as I tried to scramble up. Arms encircled me and yanked me from behind.

Eramus hissed in my ear, tightening his arms, taking away my ability to breathe.

I eyed the door, desperate, realizing I hadn’t even managed to bang it. In a desperate attempt, I blindly threw the rock in my hand. The sound of smashing glass filled the air.

Warm yellow light flooded the features of Eramus’s face. He looked up in surprise as the voices of men filled the air.

“What the dev—” I heard Mr. Macy’s voice start to yell.

With a startled cry, Eramus dropped me and ran. I landed on the stone step.

“Julia!” Mr. Macy’s shoes appeared in view before he lifted me and nestled me in his arms. He removed his hand from the back of my head and stared at the sticky red blood in amazement.

I buried my face into him and clung, gulping for air. I feared he’d leave me, but I couldn’t speak to beg him not to.

“Snyder,” he yelled, cradling me. “Get that man running down the street. If you value your life, you won’t lose him. Shhh, darling.” He carried me inside. “My word, what’s happened?”

In the drawing room where we’d spoken before, he set me down on a couch and tried to back away, but I clung harder and, finally finding my breath, sobbed.

“Sweetheart.” He pressed his lips against my forehead. “You’ve never been safer than you are at this moment. I need you to calm yourself. I need to examine you.”

“D-don’t l-l-leave.”

“I swear it; I’m not going anywhere. Shhh.” He wrapped me in his arms again. “All right. I’ll hold you a bit, but you’re injured and I need to assess how badly.”

I cried until my breaths came in short gasps. Frightened at my inability to stop inhaling, I stared at him.

“It’s all right.” His sharp eyes slowly ran over my features. “This can happen when one panics. As you calm, your breathing will become regular. Now let me have a look at you.”

He sat back, revealing that my blood was smeared over his silk shirt and his chin. My dress and his gold couch were also stained.

“Don’t allow the sight of blood to unnerve you.” His tone soothed. “Just focus on taking calm breaths.” With an austere expression, he ran his tapered fingers over my head. He unwound my braid and gently felt the back of my skull, where my hair was matted. “How did this happen?”

“He—he—he—” I couldn’t catch enough breath to finish. “Pushed . . . stairs.”

His jaw hardened, but he nodded. “I think I understand. The good news, it’s just a gash, not deep. Head wounds tend to look worse than they actually are. Now let me see your hands.” He gingerly overturned them and stared at my burnt palms, encrusted with pebbles and dirt.

“He tried . . . to burn . . . ,” I gasped, “Edward’s Bible.”

One brow elevated. “Did you dive in after it?”

I nodded, earning one of his sardonic chuckles.

“Yes, and beat out the fire with your skirts.” He lifted a charred section of my dress. “Doesn’t that rather defeat the
purpose, darling? I thought the point of the book was to keep one from flames.”

“Sir.” A man entered the room. “He caught a cab, but I heard him say which opium house he was going to.”

“I said not to lose him.” Mr. Macy’s tone chilled the air as he continued to examine my hand.

“I’ve got someone tailing him.”

“Don’t let him take drugs,” Mr. Macy said as he pressed his fingers into my neck and made me move my head from side to side. “If he has, don’t let him consume more. I want him sober. No one is to see him leaving the house, either. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send word to the Koops. Business detains me and I won’t be joining their dinner.”

The man’s footsteps faded into the hall.

Through my sleeves, Mr. Macy felt my arms. I winced at the spot where Eramus had pinned me with his boot. After taking a penknife from his pocket, Mr. Macy cut my sleeve and ran his fingers over my developing bruise. “Did he have something to do with this?”

I nodded, feeling my face twist.

His jaw tightened in anger, but he met my eye with a reassuring gaze as he encircled my rib cage with his fingers and ran his hands over my bodice. When I stiffened, he gave a slight smile. “You’ll have to forgive me, darling. I’m not trying to impose on your modesty. I want to make sure you don’t have any more injuries.” Next he peeled off my stockings and examined my feet. “You’re bleeding here too. Where are your shoes?”

“Home.”

“Be brave again, darling.” Macy removed his coat and threw it in a chair, then loosened and pulled off his cravat. He sent a servant for a basin and pitcher of warm water, then dimmed the lamps around the room, leaving one fully lit, which he returned with.

Taking his knife, he held it over the flame a few seconds before dipping it in brandy. “I need to dig out the pebbles from your hands and feet. And I’m going to use brandy to clean your wounds before bandaging them. It will sting.”

He swabbed my hand with the alcohol. My breathing had returned to normal, and the first tears of relief, instead of panic, filled my eyes. Mr. Macy looked tender as he carefully dug each piece of gravel from my hands. His face was a mixture of anger and softheartedness. Each time I gave a small cry of pain, he winced as though he’d injured himself.

After a while I studied him, scarcely able to believe this was the same man who burned businesses and blackmailed others.

His gaze lifted before it flickered with annoyance. “I see they’ve finally begun talking about me at your father’s house. Otherwise you wouldn’t look at me with such amazement. Tell me what you’ve heard.”

“My father still forbids anyone to mention your name.”

He kissed my palm, having removed the last of the dirt. “Well, perhaps I owe Roy at least one favor after all.”

A knock interrupted us. Macy opened the door, retrieved the basin, whispered new orders, and then set the basin on a low table near the couch. Without asking permission, he dipped my hair into the warm water and soaped my hair and scalp with a sandalwood wash. He rinsed it, then carefully examined my wound after toweling my wet hair.

A maid returned with one of his satin dressing robes and socks.

“Undress to your chemise, darling,” Mr. Macy said, then frowned when I blushed. “I won’t look, for heaven’s sake. Besides, I’m the last person to feel modest around.”

I stood stiffly as he unbuttoned the back of my dress, but allowed him to disrobe me from the torn gown and wrap me in his robe. It smelled wonderfully of his cigar blend and scent. He sat me down and placed a pair of knit cashmere socks on my feet.

Like he used to do at Eastbourne, he took the couch across from me. “Now, tell me who that man was.”

I stared at my bandaged hands. Now that the terror had passed, I didn’t want Macy in my confidences. I glanced about me, wondering what on earth I did want anymore.

“Darling,” Mr. Macy continued after a pause, “when you invite me into a situation, you waive the right to choose the degree to which I become invested. Now talk, for I am rather angry but prefer to make knowledgeable decisions over rash ones.”

I eyed him and decided I would take no risks with his particular mood. “Eramus Calvin.”

“Why was he chasing you? Leave out no details.”

I chose my words carefully, trying to shield Isaac and my father. I told him about Edward’s gifts and the missing citrines.

Mr. Macy leaned back and crossed his legs, looking pensive as I spoke. When I finished, he leaned forward. “You have my deepest promise, Julia. Eramus Calvin will never bother you again. Here.” He withdrew a gold-and-black onyx ring from his pinkie finger. “Everyone in the underworld knows this ring; keep it on your personage. If you ever run into problems in the future, show it. If they know anything about me, they’ll respect it.”

I took his ring and studied it. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. It was a square-cut onyx; each corner was upheld by hooded cobras whose fangs served as prongs. Their four serpentine bodies twisted flawlessly into the ring’s shape. I couldn’t imagine how he thought I’d ever wear it. Rather than offend him, I slipped it into the pocket of his robe for him to find later. “May I return home now?”

Silence met my request. Feeling a cold pit in my stomach, I waited several seconds before peeking. He sat, finger curled upon his lips, his eyes penetrating. “Do you really think that’s wise? Here I thought Roy’s house was a safe enough place.” He frowned as he rose and stalked to the hearth, where he finally
withdrew a cigarette. “I’m not sure Roy suits you, darling. Think hard. Is that what you truly wish to do?”

“You—you mean I may leave?”

He snorted, then spoke around the cigarette as he lit it. “My wife can do whatever the blazes she wishes. If you haven’t noticed yet—” he spread wide his arms—“I don’t exactly lord over you.”

I glanced at the door, wondering how to transition from that statement to be able to leave.

He flicked the match into the hearth, looking annoyed. “Fine. You may leave when I have Eramus in my keeping. In the meantime . . .” He crossed the room, set his cigarette aside, and stirred a packet of white powder into a glass of claret. “I want you to drink this. It will calm you enough to sleep. I won’t push you further while you’re in this state of mind. Drink.”

I accepted the glass. Warmth stole over me almost instantly. My senses were also anesthetized; the idea of resisting him never occurred to me as he led me to the couch. “Sit,” he said. “You’ll be surprised how comforting it can be to be held, saying nothing.”

He settled next to me, wrapping me in his arms. Within seconds I could hardly see the chamber, and my body felt twice as heavy. Exhausted, I leaned against him, vaguely aware of his scent. Each tick of the mantel clock stretched longer than the one before it.

At one point, I woke when Mr. Macy stirred and heard him say to someone, “The irony is too rich for words. My own wife assaulted.” He laughed with dark humor. “She has two of the most powerful men in London at her disposal, and yet someone still dares to bully her.”

“I wish you’d just let her go.” It was Rooke.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Mr. Macy shifted as though trying to become comfortable. “My fate is bound up in this slip of a girl. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“If you ask me, she’s jinxed and is going to be the ruin of us.”

“Keep your opinions. Who was watching her house tonight?
She should have had protection the moment that man pushed her outside.”

“Adam. We found him playing dice.”

“Where is he now?”

“With the one you sent us after. Who is he?”

Mr. Macy sighed and I felt him move. “Never mind his identity. I’ll deal with him personally, later. Go send a note to her father’s staff. I promised she could return when I had her assailant in custody.”

“Why don’t I just take her there?”

“No. Let him fetch his daughter for himself. I’m curious if he dares to.”