Born of Persuasion (32 page)

Yet he seemed to, for he watched my rising doubt and panic without offering one word or look of comfort. I faltered as I studied his complete self-possession; here was a personality unlike any I’d ever encountered.

“I need a moment,” I said.

“Take your time.”

My arms smarted, but feeling the strength of his fingers as they gripped mine, I realized he’d restrained himself from causing real injury. But I couldn’t forget the malevolence that had gnarled his features. Had it been to frighten an honest answer from me? I searched his eyes, looking for a hint of his thoughts, but they held depths I didn’t comprehend.

Who was Mr. Macy? I wondered, as he held my hands, waiting.

Thoughts of his bedchamber flooded me with empathy. No matter what the reason for this strange behavior, it didn’t change the fact I’d fallen in love. His hand tightened around mine, giving the impression I was the only light in his dark world. Only if that was so, I couldn’t understand why he continued to wait patiently, his expression concealing all emotion. I wanted him to reason with me, to explain.

I swallowed. From the day of Mama’s burial I’d determined to wed. Had I not spent months struggling to escape my fate? Was I so weak that I wouldn’t dare to reach out and take what I wanted?

I lowered my gaze. My heart felt like an overwound music box.

Then, even more than now, marriages were business arrangements. The upper crust had always been sustained by the economy of matrimony. Two days was scarcely enough time to gauge my future, yet how many marriages were contracted reckoning only on properties and funds? The balance was in my favor. Nonetheless, I felt the chains of becoming the legal property of someone other than Edward.

“Yes.” I lowered my gaze. “I’ll enter an engagement.”

“You took some time coming to that answer. Are you certain?”

I nodded, feeling tears well. “Yes, only I’m frightened.”

His low chuckle filled me with assurance as he lifted my chin. “I swear, never again shall you feel a rough hand laid upon you. Mine or any other. I am a man of my word. You have nothing to fear.”

I nodded again and again, wiping away tears before he slid next to me and gathered me in his arms. “What were your thoughts toward the end of your discourse?” he asked. “I couldn’t follow their sudden twist.”

“You followed the others?”

He wiped my wet cheek with his thumb. “You are very transparent, dear, especially to one skilled in reading people. Now answer.”

“I was thinking of the way
wife
and
servant
are synonymous.”

He turned my face with one hand, grinning. “So you read seventeenth-century poetry, do you? Leave Lady Chudleigh on the shelf, for she never married me. I do not intend to lord it over you.” He paused, regarding me. “I’m going to explain the coffee set, so later nothing comes between us.”

“Nothing could.”

He laughed and kissed my forehead. “You are a study, dearest. But come. Let’s return to the house. This is no longer the proper setting for us.”

Mr. Macy locked the study, tossed his keys on the desk, and added kindling to the embers. I remained by the door while he coaxed the fire. He seemed to have composed himself since leaving the greenhouse, but I hadn’t. Only after flames curled around the cedar log did he take notice of me.

“Sweetheart.” He grabbed his housecoat and drew me into the room. “Here, wear this. It will warm you until the fire catches.”

I pressed the satin against my face, yearning for his comforting smell. Reynolds must have laundered the robe, for only lye tingled my nose. While I donned it, Mr. Macy selected a cigar. He faced the hearth, smoking, while I settled in one of the couches. His internal debate seemed to end the same moment he grew weary of his cigar, flicking it into the fire.

“Last night,” he said, turning, “you informed me you required no knowledge of my past. Though gratified, I knew keeping it was an impossibility.” He leaned against the mantel and bit his thumb with an expression of discontentment. “I’ve grown so suspicious over the years, I never imagined you’d
require no explanation when confronted with your first hurdle.” He laughed once and rubbed his jaw. “I feared you were a trap. A clever, clever trap.”

When he joined me on the couch, I scooted toward him, knowing the warmth of his arms would remove the sinking feeling in my heart. I didn’t want to know his past. I feared it.

“No, remain there,” he said. “I wish to observe you, lest I reveal too much and you regret your troth.”

“Then tell me nothing. For all I care, you could have stolen the set like a common gypsy.”

His hand angled, and he studied me so long I feared I’d displeased him. Eventually, he stood and sauntered to the drink table. “I would rather spare you this knowledge as well.” He poured two brandies. “Yet you need to know. Not only for an explanation of the coffee set, but your own protection requires it.” He handed me a drink with a wry smile. “I wonder whether you’ll find my account better or worse than the theory that I stole it.” He slouched in the couch opposite me, taking slow sips of brandy.

Uncomfortable, I drew my legs up and wrapped my arms around my knees. “Then tell me, and hurry. Had I known tonight would be like this, I never would have mentioned the horrid set.”

“Would you not?” He placed his brandy aside. “That’s scarcely better, darling. The unknown is always more threatening than the known. I shouldn’t like to see you brooding and pacing Eastbourne. Better to come early for explanations.”

I hugged myself tighter.

He opened his cigar case and withdrew another cheroot. When a line of smoke spun idly over his head, he studied the fire, saying, “Tonight, I planned on asking you to marry me. At best, I hoped you would accept for your protection. You’ve taken me by surprise with your declaration of love.” He took a swig of brandy, then stared at the empty tumbler. “I think you’ve known
me long enough to understand I have ways of finding valuable information. Call it an uncanny knack, if you like.”

He rose, refilled his glass, then settled himself at my feet. “In my youth, I used this ability for gain and, perhaps, amusement. Years ago, I sold information to both your father and your guardian, enabling them to blackmail each other. The coffee set was a payment from your father.”

“My father?” I couldn’t muster surprise. It sounded like him.

Mr. Macy rubbed his forehead. “They hated each other, bitterly. Had I known how far they would take it . . . I will not reveal the particulars, but eventually your father and I had a falling out. In anger, I gave your guardian information that ruined your father, and as it turns out, your mother also.”

I sifted through Mr. Macy’s words, but they were too vague to help me make sense of the situation. “Why is he my guardian, then?”

“Perhaps we ought to end this discussion. I only desired for you to learn why I reacted as I—”

“Tell me.”

“No.” He rose to join me on the couch. “He’s a dangerous man who fears his misdeeds coming to light. The last thing I intend to do is further endanger you by revealing them.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Mr. Macy’s countenance stopped me. Frustrated, I crossed my arms. “Why were you involved in their battle, then?”

“I used to hire myself out for extortion and blackmail. They both sought my aid, and to my deep regret, I betrayed them both to each other.”

During this speech, I had been looking at my hands, but now I raised my gaze. How could anyone sound so matter-of-fact about such things?

“And now you know some small part of my past.” He tilted his head, keeping his acute gaze on me. “I’ve spent my life paying for the mistakes of my youth. It’s why I live in isolation. Why
I was suspicious of you tonight.” He crossed his arms. “Do you regret your promise to wed me now?”

I felt as Mr. Greenham must have during dinner, outside of Mr. Macy’s pleasure. Did he expect me to repent of our engagement and beg out of it? His cold gaze certainly gave that impression. My illusion of him was splintered, but not my love. My voice came out unsteady. “But why are you angry with me?”

Warm arms surrounded me, but before I could bury myself in his chest, Mr. Macy kissed my forehead. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been further from anger in my life.”

“But you’re acting so cold.”

He swept loose strands of hair from my shoulder. “Because you’ve not yet considered what I’ve disclosed, or considered how you view me in light of the knowledge.”

“It doesn’t matter. Not one bit of it.”

He lifted my chin. “There’s more, dearest. I need you to pay attention. I’ve damaged very powerful people. There are those who seek revenge. It’s why I trust no one, never become attached to anyone—”

Fear coiled in my stomach. “Does that mean that you don’t . . . you aren’t . . . ?”

“That I don’t what, dearest?”

I felt as if I’d been sinking into a miry bog because I’d followed will-o’-the-wisps. My eyes filled. “You are only marrying me to redress a wrong?”

His laugh was hearty before he kissed the side of my face. “I spoke too carelessly. Forgive me. Do you think I’m incapable of protecting you unless we are married? But so you have no doubts, allow me to state it plainly: my heart is solely yours.” He kissed my forehead. “I ought to warn you, though—” he wiped my cheeks—“tears have no effect on me. I’ll allow them tonight, but must ask you refrain in the future. In return, I’ll give you nothing to cry over.” I nodded, trying to abate them. He laughed softly. “Now you understand. Our attachment
leaves me vulnerable, Julia. There are many who wish me harm. I need your trust if I’m to keep us safe. Do you understand this?”

I nodded.

“No, it’s plain to see you’re far too innocent to comprehend any of this. But why should you? As my wife, you’ll never have anything to fear.” He stood, took my glass, and refreshed the brandy. “You have far more right to question me than I you, but my curiosity demands to be satiated. What caused your sudden sentiment in the hothouse?”

I tugged on the cuffs of his dressing gown. “I went into your bedroom today.”

The decanter dropped to the table with a crack. “You didn’t have the key.”

“It’s the same as mine.”

“Clever.” It was spoken in a near whisper through gritted teeth as he rammed the stopper back into the bottle. “And how, pray tell, did viewing my room evoke that emotion?”

“I saw your loneliness.”

His mouth slanted downwards as his eyes became haunted. “Do not explore areas of my life that you know I want left alone. It’s for your sake. I’ve only told you the smallest bit of my past, only a fraction of the part involving you. Do not seek to learn more than I disclose. Otherwise, you shall have no happiness as my wife.”

“Is . . . is there more, then?”

“Yes, and far, far worse than I’ve told you.” He slipped his arm behind me, bringing comfort and assurance. “There, I’ve frightened you again. Rest assured, dearest—” his nose nuzzled my hair—“I am a different man than I was in the past. Now you must have your own questions.”

Mr. Macy may have been adept at switching from shocking topics to bewildering situations, but I was not. The heavy ticking
of the clock filled the room as I tried to sort through my mind to find the right inquiries to make.

“Did my guardian . . . Was Mama a threat to him, like my father was?”

“Not to my knowledge, but your guardian probably wasn’t chancing it.” Mr. Macy moved away, so he could view me.

“Did my mother know of your past?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

I nodded, tallying his words. She wouldn’t have agreed to a match otherwise. “What will happen when my guardian learns of our marriage?”

He grinned and sipped his brandy. “Blind rage might be an apt description. Certainly, he’ll wonder why I married you.” He laughed as though he hoped that would be the result. When I dropped my gaze, I heard him set his drink down. “Julia, it’s my concern how he responds, and I daresay, I’m far better at this game than he is. Forgive my amusement, but I’m rather looking forward to his learning of our alliance. At least I won’t have to tolerate his presence any longer.”

“Then you still have . . . contact?”

“Yes, I’ve tolerated his evil for years, keeping tabs on his doings. All for the sake of keeping an eye on your family, especially after your father’s death.”

“Tell me his name.”

“No.”

“When we marry?”

“No. Why keep asking when you know I’ll not reveal more?”

I felt my brow furrow, knowing it would not be wise to tell him that I wanted revenge for Mama’s death. As if sensing my need for comfort, he drew me close and kissed the nape of my neck. “I’d make a sorry protector if I failed to keep you safe. That’s all you need to know. Enough about him.”

I shut my eyes, leaning into his kisses.

Pulling aside the dressing robe, he let his lips travel along my
collarbone. With two fingers, he traced my face, then turned me toward him to study the effect of his advances. A smile played over his lips before he covered my mouth and deepened his brandy-laced kisses. My tears dried as I forgot all else. There, as he crushed me against him, nothing else mattered; his past ceased to exist. His hand took hold of my hair before his thumb traversed down my neck, raising gooseflesh over my entire body.