Born of Persuasion (22 page)

I sat up from my sleep, my feet sliding over the polished floor as birch trees dissolved into walls and windows. All at once, I realized Mama’s dream wails were actually my own. With a sob, I covered my mouth.

Never before in my dreams had Mama crossed the chasm. I closed my eyes, trying to erase the image. Though I’d sworn I would never cry or mourn for her again, tears came unbidden.

No longer did the swords flicker in the firelight. The chamber was dark. While I’d slept, the candles had burned down to the wick. The light produced from the ruby embers behind me cast a hellish hue over the Turkish carpet.

To my great embarrassment, the door creaked open, sending light through the room.

“Miss Elliston?” Reynolds stepped in from the hall. “Are you all right?”

I gave him no answer, but signalled for privacy.

It was easy to see he was uncertain what to do. He started toward me but stiffened at the sound of rushing feet.

“What the dickens is going on in here?” Mr. Macy demanded, entering the room. “Who was that screaming?”

I turned away to wipe my eyes and nose on the sleeve of my dress.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Macy, sir; only Miss Elliston—”

Before I knew what was happening, a pair of hands braced my shoulders and turned me. I attempted to rise, but his hands on my shoulders kept me from more than sitting. Mr. Macy’s gaze probed every inch of my face. Under his scrutiny, memory of Mama faded as I grew conscious of my wrinkled dress and tearstained eyes. He exhaled, relieved. Barely audible, he asked, “Are you all right?”

My voice lodged in my throat, but I managed a slight nod.

His features became forbidding as he looked over his shoulder. “Might I ask why it is that one of my guests—
this
guest in particular—is here alone and unguarded?”

The silence that followed was pregnant with discomfort.

“I don’t know, sir,” Reynolds finally said. “I only just found her myself.”

“What do you mean you only just found her?” He gnashed his teeth at his valet. “Did I not assign you to tend to her after dinner? What is she doing here?”

“I hardly know myself, sir. She’d already left the table by the time I arriv—”

“Quiet.” Mr. Macy’s gaze lingered on the room before he returned his attention to me. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear and then cradled my face. He bent his head near mine and kept his voice private. “Of all the rooms in the estate, Miss Elliston, why did you choose this one?”

I’d been unable to recover my wits before Reynolds, but now, like forcing the final dress into a trunk and then latching it, I managed to quell my confusion and panic. As I became
conscious of Mr. Macy’s hands on my cheeks, they grew inflamed.

“Her ladyship brought me here.” My voice sounded more wan than I liked. “Did she forget to tell you where I was?”

It was difficult to see his expression in the murk, but I gathered from the tension in his arm that he was displeased. He dipped his head, whether to think or to recover his temper, I knew not. “Reynolds, do not fail me again. You may leave now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“John—” Mr. Macy looked over his shoulder—“go find Adelia and make it abundantly clear I am not amused. Tell her no more games. I mean it.”

Mr. Greenham bowed. “And when I finish?”

“Retire for the evening.” Mr. Macy’s eyes met mine as he brushed his thumb along my jawline. To my chagrin, as he viewed my mouth his eyes lit with amusement. It did not occur to me until later that it was because he read the desire that spread through me as a fire burns a page. “I’ve waited a long time to have Julia alone.”

My stomach hollowed at his words, yet at the same time they also thrilled me.

“What?” Mr. Greenham lowered his voice. “Alone? Here?”

Mr. Macy slowly looked over his shoulder. “Is there a problem, John?”

“No, but we agreed that—”

“Then leave.”

Mr. Greenham’s mouth clamped shut, but he turned his gaze on me. He looked so feral that I half believed that should every servant in Eastbourne spontaneously attack us with knifes and pokers, he could have vanquished them bare-handed. In a sort of spasm, Mr. Greenham jerked his head, then retreated into the dark hall. Mr. Macy likewise watched him, only with an expression that better suited a hawk.

Once the sound of the slap of his boots faded, Mr. Macy
angled his head and studied me. “May I ask—” his voice was as beguiling as his appearance—“what message of yours Lady Foxmore failed to deliver? Were you waiting for me?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but a new kind of shyness seized me. I pleaded with my eyes not to be questioned.

He laughed as his gaze darted over the gloomy hall and darkened chamber. “And alone, too? You are either very brave or very foolish to follow her bidding. Tell me, are you very nervous?”

“Ought I to be?”

“Yes, with a chaperone as notorious as Adelia and no gentleman present to defend your honor.” His nostrils flared slightly as if he were a starved man savoring a meal he was about to devour. Mr. Macy’s gaze dropped to my mouth and then ran along my neck. When his eyes returned to mine, my stomach twisted with a new sensation, one of which I knew Edward would not approve.

Mr. Macy leaned forward, as though to kiss me. “You made a very foolish mistake, being caught alone in the dead of night, with a man, inviting his glances. Clearly your mother neglected to teach you the finer points of propriety.” His voice grew jagged as his gaze moved along my collarbone. He picked up a lock of my hair and breathed in its scent. “What would you do, little one, if I were in no mood to correct her mistakes?”

Fisting my skirt, I watched him, wide-eyed.

With a chuckle, he released my curl. “Lucky for you, I am a man of restraint. Besides, it would be counterproductive, considering I brought you here to offer you my full assistance.”

“Assistance?” My voice came out weak, my heart still pounding against my stays. “I don’t understand.”

His brows knit. “You must admit the odds are not in your favor at the moment and growing worse. It’s nothing short of a miracle you’ve made it this far.” My confusion must have been apparent, for Mr. Macy’s face crumpled. “You mean no one’s told you?”

“Told me what?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, glancing at the clock before his hand moved to his chin, which now shadowed a day’s growth. He shook his head as though in disbelief. When he spoke, it was slow and thoughtful. “Forgive me in advance, Miss Elliston, but this may be a rather trying night for you. We haven’t much time to act, and it appears you lack important knowledge.” He stood with fluid movement and offered his hand. “The documents are in my study. Will you come?”

Mr. Macy paused before a small door and pulled out a key ring. He gave me a nod of encouragement as the key twisted in the lock.

Inside, a merry blaze illuminated an intimate cedar-panelled room. Before the hearth, two worn leather couches faced each other. On my right stood a massive desk strewn with papers, some of which spilled over onto the floor. Scattered ash and the scent of cigars suggested a negligent smoker. Behind the far couch, a tray was set with liquors in sparkling decanters. Mr. Macy ushered me into the chamber, then relocked the door.

I folded my arms and drew them close as he locked his keys in a drawer.

“Cold?” Mr. Macy shook off his silk banyan, then held it in the air for me to slide my arms through. It was the first time in my memory someone had acted as though my well-being meant more to him than his own.

As I slid my hand over the raised embroidery and silk, he navigated his way around the papers near the desk. Nothing in my entire wardrobe was so costly. To the backdrop of decanters chinking against each other, I lifted the square collar about my face and breathed in his scent—cigars, brandy, and sandalwood. I hadn’t realized I’d shut my eyes until he asked, “Brandy?”

I opened my eyes and found him watching me with pleasure. “For me?”

With a disarming smile, he turned over a glass. “So, they’ve not permitted you the drink of gentlemen, eh? Here, try it.” He sauntered to me and pressed a full tumbler into my hands. “You’ll find no such restrictions on you in my house.”

With his head he indicated the nearby couch. “Sit.”

I perched on the edge of the cushion and took my first taste of spirits, imagining the heart palpitations Mrs. Windham would suffer if she knew. The drink was strong, burning enough to sear the conscience as well as the tongue.

“Good?” he asked.

I nodded, knowing better than to speak, then coughed.

Mr. Macy gave his hypnotic laugh as he poured his own glass. “For the record, should you ever find yourself as compromised as you were earlier, protest. Loudly. The louder the better. Demand to be freed, then threaten the man with full retaliation from your nearest male relative.”

I must have flashed him a look that told him the absurdity of his statement.

His expression went beyond my ken as he tilted his head. “Yes, perhaps that would have no effect on me, but trust me when I tell you that you are better protected than you realize.”

He settled into the couch across from me, where he sipped his brandy, watching. That he waited for me to speak, I had not a doubt. But I didn’t know what to make of him yet, so I matched his intake of brandy, sip for sip, making it clear by the jut of my jaw that I would not begin this conversation.

After a quarter hour, he finally set his drink aside and leaned forward, clasping his hands over his knees. His voice smiled. “I’ve waited a long time for this conversation, and now that you’re here, I scarcely know where to start.”

I allowed the hand holding the brandy to lower to my lap. “Then tell me what you meant earlier, when you said I was in danger.”

He nodded, as if approving. “Quite the contrary—you’re safer
now than you’ve been in months.” His brows drew together. “Yes. Why not. Let’s begin there.”

He stood, brushing his hands, and then went to his desk, where he unlocked a drawer and shuffled through papers. His onyx ring winked in the light as his fingers deftly maneuvered through files. “Perhaps you’ve heard I keep strange habits, or that I’m reclusive and so forth. My life is peculiar for good reason. It’s rare I explain myself, yet with you, I will do so.”

He selected two pages, stuck them in a brown leather folder, and relocked the drawer before reclaiming his seat. He waited until my attention shifted from the folder to him.

“I require something of you first. You must swear to me, everything discussed here remains a private matter between us. Have a clear understanding, Miss Elliston, when you make a contract with me, verbal or otherwise, I will hold you to it. So promise me nothing lightly.”

I tightened my fingers about my tumbler. “You have my word.”

His eyes sharpened. “You promised that very quickly.”

His abrupt change of mood startled me. His eyes no longer smiled, and I sensed him offended, though it wasn’t clear why. “Does that make it less valid?”

“Not as long as you understand the gravity. Yet I am hesitant, for what I wish to share with you has the potential to destroy many lives. You are rather young and have just proved how impulsive you are.”

My young life had been difficult, tempered with my father’s fist and our neighbors’ harrying. I had lived divided, riven between the two people I loved the most, forced to hide all knowledge of Edward from Mama. Secrets I had kept. Lies I had told. All to protect two people who had ended up betraying me in every possible manner. My very flesh recoiled at the thought of being considered a frivolous youth, and it wrought a change in my countenance.

“You gravely mistake me, then,” I said in a hard voice, ready to gather my skirts and leave.

Mr. Macy’s face sobered as he tilted his head to study me. “Yes,” he said slowly, “perhaps I do. Forgive me. I meant no offense. I forget how deeply entrenched you already are in this matter besides.” He gave a slight nod. “All right, so we begin. Since I am uncertain how much knowledge you have, we’ll start at the very beginning. Please do not think I am patronizing you.”

I waited, hands gripping my tumbler on my lap as he reached behind him to the drink trolley. He poured himself a second helping and without asking, he extended the decanter and refilled my drink. He shoved the stopper into the throat of the decanter. “I assume you are aware you have a guardian?”

I started, a gnarled, hollow knot forming in my stomach.

“Yes or no, if you please.”

“Yes, but how—?”

“Have you yet been informed that he’s made arrangements for you to leave for Scotland to stay as a lady’s companion to the late General Clark’s widow—and very soon, I might add?”

I stopped breathing. Even I hadn’t learned the name of my patron in Scotland.

“Yes, I can see you have. And judging by your face, you also know your guardian intends for you to meet with a fatal accident while in Scotland.” He gave a bitter laugh, lifting his tumbler in a mock toast. “It is his way, is it not? Strip away all power and then remove his victim from anyone who might ask questions.”