Born of Persuasion (31 page)

Grudgingly, I met her gaze but did not move my feet.

“Don’t make me sit on you,” she threatened. “I will.”

I grimaced at her, considering refusing to let her join me. Doubtlessly she felt it her duty to point out her concerns about my behavior. The fact that I couldn’t defend any of my actions made me irritable. With a sinking feeling, I realized that I was also duty bound. I still needed to tell her about Henry. I removed my feet.

“Juls?” Her face still bore the marks of exhaustion as she sat.

“I know what you’re going to say,” I said. “I’m begging you, please don’t. You don’t understand this.”

“Think about what you’re doing,” she finally said. “Think of all that we planned.”

I did not respond immediately, for her words opened a door I thought I had shut. Grief, however, comes in cycles and will not be ignored when it knocks. Unwillingly, I plunged anew into the heartache I felt over Edward.

Though it was folly to even consider Elizabeth’s plea, I gave a last fleeting look at our beautiful plans. Edward was supposed to
become a barrister, and when Henry came into his full inheritance, we’d join him and Elizabeth at Auburn Manor.

The four of us had planned that our children would grow up together and play in the same fields we had. How many pledges had we sworn to continue to live as wild and as free as we were then? How many times had I daydreamed about the first time the four of us would sit down to dine, each wearing a grin because we’d know we had won—that despite society, despite the obstacles, our foursome’s bond had remained intact.

I took a breath against the rising ache. Like a wave’s retreating after hitting shore, the cycle of grief ended, leaving me strangely numb. Such thoughts were pointless now.

Having lived with her mother, Elizabeth had an uncanny sense of when to speak and when not to. Thus, she’d held her peace while I’d entertained the vision, but when I shook my head, tears filled her eyes. “How can you give up? Not now. Fight. Would you really trade what we four share, even for something as grand as this?” She waved her hand over the hall with its intricate ceilings, ornate moldings, and rich furnishings. “Edward will recover from this madness in time. I know he will.”

I reined in my emotions before answering. “It was a dream, Elizabeth. A silly, childish, nonsensical dream. It is far time we outgrew it anyway.” I placed my fingertips on her arm. “Not just me, but you, too. I don’t think it’s coming true for either of us.”

She gave a snort at that idea. “How can you turn your back on us now, after all we swore to each other?”

“What if it’s not just Edward and me parting ways? What if it’s you and Henry too?”

Confusion lit her eyes as she cocked her head.

I wet my lips, uncertain how hard she’d take the news. “Dearest, I overheard a rumor . . . about . . . Henry being engaged.”

Instead of the dismay I expected, she looked a trifle annoyed,
then took up my hands. “Never mind that. Henry and I are fully capable of handling that matter.”

I felt my eyebrows lift, even as my blood ran cold. “Elizabeth! You mean you know?”

“It’s not us you should worry about.” She started to say more, but the door opened, revealing the missing gentlemen. Henry looked first for Elizabeth, who rose and went to greet him. Mr. Greenham claimed a seat in the corner, looking more plagued than ever.

Mr. Macy’s probing glance looked for me, and when he found me, he offered an encouraging smile. He patted Henry’s shoulder as Elizabeth joined them, made a pretense of getting coffee, and then, to my relief, he joined me.

“Have you ever played billiards, Miss Elliston?” He presented a cup, speaking loud enough for all to hear.

“I have not.”

“I’ve always wondered how a lady would play the game.”

“What an odd notion,” Lady Foxmore called. “I doubt a true lady would enjoy it. So perhaps you are in luck, Chance.”

“I don’t know if I’d play with her,” Henry said, frowning at me. “I warrant she’d cheat.”

“Do you enjoy reading?” Mr. Macy ignored them by facing me and crossing one leg over the other. I looked up, realizing he was trying to undo the damage from dinner.

Feeling heartened, I turned from Henry too. “I do, very much.”

“Not novels, I hope.”

I fingered the edge of my saucer, feeling juvenile. “I have no objections to them.”

“I’ll never understand why a delicate, blushing lady enjoys reading harrowing tales of distress.”

The clever comment that eluded me at breakfast finally presented itself. “You seem very aware of their contents. How many have you read?”

His hearty laugh rang out. “I have been caught! Yes, it does not hurt for a gentleman to read a novel or two. Especially the ones written by women. I advise it to anyone desiring to learn the art of seduction.”

A shocked hush fell over the room. His statement scandalized, and his eyes shone for it. Mr. Greenham stood and retreated to the window. Henry glared at me before turning his baleful stare on Mr. Macy.

Mr. Macy inclined his head as though submitting to Henry’s decorum, then leaned to my ear. “Shall it please you to learn I’ve ordered countless novels for my library? I hoped you’d have a penchant for them.”

I blushed and the silence deepened. “Sir, we’re alarming the room.”

“And you’re enjoying it as much as I am. Your eyes fairly dance with amusement.”

I couldn’t hide my smile.

“Shall we shock them completely?” He leaned still nearer. “Shall I kiss you here and now?”

“No. Do not!” I cried out before realizing he was jesting.

Heads swivelled in our direction. Henry started to rise, but Mr. Greenham approached first. “Chance, I don’t approve.”

Mr. Macy slowly raised his eyes, allowing an uncomfortable pause. “John,” he eventually said, “we have known each other a long time, and your friendship is more valuable to me than any other. Therefore I would consider it abhorrent should anything—” his eyes indicated me—“come between us. You of all people ought to know I would never act improperly toward Miss Elliston.”

“May we speak privately?” Mr. Greenham asked.

“Not tonight.” Though Mr. Macy returned his gaze in my direction, I doubted he saw me. “I’m uneasy in my mind about you. Perhaps in the morning, after I’ve had opportunity to think.”

After a stiff bow, Mr. Greenham returned to his chair. While everyone tried to ignore the obvious tension, Mr. Forrester rose, his eyes darting between Mr. Macy and Mr. Greenham’s slumped form.

The carefree mood was not restored. Lady Foxmore eventually declared she was tired and needed Henry’s arm. Elizabeth offered her help, likely looking for an excuse to steal a moment alone with Henry. I watched, calculating the length of time before Henry and Elizabeth would return. When ten minutes had passed and Mr. Macy remained submerged in thought, I placed a hand on his arm. “Shall I also retire?”

He stirred and looked around, returning his gaze to me with tenderness. “Not unless you feel fatigued. I’ve waited all day to have you to myself.”

Mr. Greenham stood.

“John, wait.” Mr. Macy left his chair and followed him from the room. Rooke looked up from his book, and taking interest, joined them.

Mr. Forrester alone remained. He peered into the hall before turning his unabashed gaze on me. “Quickly now, are Macy and Greenham fighting?”

My heart fluttering, I picked up my untouched coffee with the air of not having heard.

“You’re the only one privy to their conversation.” He took Mr. Macy’s seat and placed his hand over the top of my coffee, preventing me from taking a sip. “Tell me what they said.”

I twisted my mouth, giving him a hateful glare.

“Don’t tell me you’re half-witted enough to trust him over me.”

“I trust him with my life.” I enunciated my words, growing angry.

“What if I told you I had information that would change your mind?”

“Then I should hope you had hard proof,” Mr. Macy answered
from the door with Mr. Greenham looming behind him. “She already knows you’re here to blackmail me. I’ve had enough of your game. I’m calling your bluff. If you have something devastating, let’s hear it. Now.”

Mr. Forrester gritted his teeth.

“I thought as much,” Mr. Macy said. “You may continue your visit, but for now, I’ll thank you for ridding me of your presence.”

With his hands clenched, Mr. Forrester ducked his head and left.

“Are you all right, Miss Elliston?” Mr. Greenham brushed past Mr. Macy and hurried to my side.

I nodded but said to Mr. Macy, “Why are you allowing him to stay?”

“Because if he’s here, he’s not with your guardian, causing more havoc.” Mr. Macy poured himself a brandy. “John, I promised Julia a walk in my hothouses tonight. You’re welcome to join us.”

Mr. Greenham shook his head. “No, but satisfy me this. Now that you’ve met her, are your intentions the same?”

“They are,” Mr. Macy said. “There is a genuine attachment on both sides.”

Mr. Greenham bowed and left the room.

“Well, at least that much is out of the way,” Mr. Macy said once the door closed. He softened, seeing my distress. “Come.” He pulled me from the chair and wrapped his arm around me. “John will be fine. All day, I’ve anticipated this time. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

THE MOONLIGHT that blanketed the grounds that night made every blade of frosted grass glitter, giving the landscape a celestial appearance. I clutched Mr. Macy’s sleeve, wondering what he planned. At the crest of the far hill, another great house stood, barely lit with stars blinking above it. As I stared at the apparently empty house, I shivered, my skirts billowing in the wind.

“The conservatory will be warm,” Mr. Macy promised.

Having crossed the great lawn, he steered us back to the gravel paths passing the kitchen gardens, enclosed in glass frames. At the hothouse, he released me to select a key. I rubbed my arms, viewing the glass, fuzzy with frost. A breath of humidity was expelled when the door opened to reveal a narrow stone path stretched between high beds of scarlet geraniums. I gasped with wonder. After thirty feet, the conservatory expanded into a spacious glasshouse filled with tall palms and flowering creepers.

I entered, hands over heart, breathing the rich scent. Mr. Macy’s mouth twisted in amusement as he locked the door behind us.

I turned. “This is my favorite place in Eastbourne.”

“This?” He seemed further entertained as he gathered me. “There are matters I wish to discuss tonight. Only first, tell me of your day.”

As we brushed past, geranium petals scattered over the walkway. Smaller conservatories connected to the main hothouse, each brimming with green. Mr. Macy indicated for me to sit beneath an orange tree, then crouched on his heels near the bench, enfolding my hands in his. “Tell me everything.”

As I spoke about the rooms and artifacts that interested me, he plucked an orange blossom and tucked it into my hair.

“There was one room . . .” I faltered, hesitant to mention the coffee set.

His smile tightened. “You didn’t wander into my ballroom, did you?”

“Not the ballroom, the billiards room.”

“The billiards room!” He laughed. “Whatever is the matter with it?”

I moistened my lips. “Well, there’s a coffee set . . .”

“The coffee set.” He sat hard on the ground, still staring at my hands in his. “Yes, I’d rather forgotten that.” An empty, soulless look filled his eyes as he aged the span of years in seconds. He appeared so weary, my heart wrung. “You want an explanation, no doubt.”

At that time, I was young and immature enough to wish I’d never brought up the wretched coffee set. I was used to apologizing in the face of my father’s swift temper, and I feared to upset Mr. Macy. Whatever the explanation, I reasoned, it couldn’t be worse than beginning my life as a servant in Scotland. “No,” I said. “No explanations.”

Fingers dug into the flesh of my upper arm and I was yanked to my feet. I hadn’t even felt him stand. I gasped in pain, turning toward him. He towered over me, malice fixed on his
features. “What do you mean, no? Who sent you?” He shook me. “Bradshawl? O’Connor?”

“I . . . I . . .” A tear escaped as I stared at him, bewildered.

He loosened his grip, but his stare bored into me. “You what?”

“I don’t care about the set because . . . I . . . I love you.” The words tumbled from me without permission, but I sensed they were the right ones.

His eyes narrowed but he tipped up my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. A shadow flitted across his countenance, a desperate look. He released me and turned, pinching the bridge of his nose. After several seconds, he came back and gently took my elbow. “Here, come. Sit.”

My arms ached where his fingers had dug into them. I tried to resume my seat, but I was trembling so much, I missed the edge of the bench. He caught me and placed me securely on the seat.

“I’m going to take full advantage of your statement.” He knelt before me, drawing my hands to his chest. “Are you willing to enter into an engagement with me here, now, tonight?”

I stared in disbelief. Did he actually think I would accept him when he had just shown himself capable of violence toward me?