Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (26 page)

“Well?” my father asked five minutes later, as I climbed into the carriage.

“She kissed me. She said it was to honor your service.”

My father sat back with an uncomfortable expression, and I wondered if, like mine, his conscience bothered him. With a deep breath, he turned to the window and didn’t speak on the way home.

“My word!” Miss Moray stepped away from the coffin-size box, lid still in hand. “This dress will make headlines.”

Kate, who had insisted on being on the bed, leaned over and
crinkled the tissue paper as she examined it. “Oh, Julia! Oh, oh. They’ve sewn real pearls in a diamond pattern over the skirt, and the neck is lined with—” she paused to count, her fingers trembling with excitement—“seven rows!”

Miss Moray lifted the soft Indian silk dress from the box, and the maids in the room gasped in unison. “It’s a shame such a gown will be crushed at the ball.” Miss Moray cradled it as a mother might a newborn. Her long fingers brushed over the pearl trim. “Are you ready, Miss Pierson?”

I stood and lifted my hands above my head as my only response. Miss Moray and I made it a point to talk to each other as little as possible. Layers of perfumed silk, a lime-blossom scent Lady Beatrice had chosen as my signature, cascaded over my head.

“To think there’s still a whole wardrobe yet to come,” Kate said from the direction of my bed. It squeaked as though she bounced on it.

Hands hurried to button my back and adjust my hair. Heavy, cold jewelry was laid over my neck and looped through my ears. When they finally stepped away, I turned to view Julia Pierson for the first time. The girl in the mirror certainly looked the part of the wealthiest heiress in London. Miss Moray’s treatments had left my skin as flawless and white as porcelain. My coal-black hair was loosely braided down my back, then entwined with roses and pearls. Lady Beatrice insisted I wear diamonds tonight, despite my age, to distinguish my position. I touched the hollow of my throat as I turned my head, unable to believe it was I and not Lady Josephine returned from the dead.

Murmurs of approval issued from the maids before a rap on the door interrupted.

“For Miss Pierson,” I heard James say when one maid opened the door.

With a toothy smile, the elderly maid waddled back to me and presented a silver tray with a white orchid. I unfolded the note next to it.

You will perform marvelously tonight. Have no fear. You are ready.

Isaac

Irritation surged through me that he dared to use his Christian name again, but I forced a smile for the benefit of everyone else, then slipped the note into my sash. Now that I had been presented, the hour was at hand when I needed to show that I had a will as strong as my father’s and Lord Dalry’s.

Hooves echoed over the courtyard, and torchlight filled our carriage as we arrived. I chanced a glance at my father. He sat rock solid, hand atop his walking stick. His face bore a new determination. Next to him, Lord Dalry gave me a slight nod.

When our carriage halted, my father held his finger up to the approaching attendant. “I’ve taken the liberty of arranging your dance card,” he said, eyeing me. “Those of the highest precedence are first. Make sure you cause no offense. You’ll be attending acquaintances within the Tory party, allowing Forrester opportunity to place their names in his paper. There are also gem merchants, whom we cannot afford a falling-out with.”

The door opened and an attendant waited expectantly, but I did not move. “You arranged my dance card? But how? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

My father nodded for Lord Dalry to exit. “I’ve been receiving requests since the day I announced your return.”

“Miss Pierson.” Cold air filled the carriage as Lord Dalry offered his hand.

Just before my fingertips touched his, my father grasped my forearm and gave me a gruff nod.

I returned the gesture, understanding his communication to do my best. Heaviness constricted my chest as I climbed from the carriage. A magnificent, pillared building rose in gleaming
white, scraping the starry sky. In the flickering torchlight it looked as authoritarian as my father. The false confidence I’d donned along with the gown now fled. How could I not fail? I was not born to this. This ruse was beyond my ability. The horses whinnied, rearing their heads as if confirming my doubts.

My father climbed out of the carriage after me.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, pulling my cape closed to hide my nervousness.

“We are amongst the first to arrive.” The gold of my father’s lion-head walking stick flashed as he adjusted his cape. “I’ll not wade through crowds and horse manure to be fashionable.”

Taking my arm, Lord Dalry chuckled. He leaned so close, his warm breath stirred the hair by my ear. “He’s been this stubborn since the day I met him.” Camaraderie filled his eyes as he secured my arm tightly under his own. “Perhaps now that there’s two of us, we’ll finally tame him and arrive so fashionably late, all we’ll have to do is say our good-byes.”

Wordlessly, I stared back. This was scarcely the Lord Dalry I knew. He completely disregarded the cold wall I’d been building, taking me behind that aloof image he wore. All at once, realization struck me. Now that I’d been presented to the queen, there was no turning back, and he knew our mutual fates were irrevocably tied.

Lord Dalry lifted his gaze up the long row of steps we had to climb. As we ascended, I glanced up. Far above, in a sphere of their own, a sprinkling of stars infused me with courage as memory of another fete tumbled to mind.

Mama and I had been at Am Meer the year the Gardners held a grand lawn party, which all notable families had been invited to.

When we arrived, Elizabeth was soon whisked away, but no one approached me. I scanned the crowd for Edward, but neither he nor Henry were anywhere to be found. Dance after dance I was overlooked, until it dawned on me that the women weren’t visiting with Mama either.

Later I learned it was the same summer William published
his most notorious pamphlet that argued why reform-minded individuals should be free to have relations outside the constrains of marriage. Mama must have known it, and had she shed tears and declared herself much abused over the work—as she was wont to do when necessary—we might have been gathered into their fold and fussed over. But for reasons known only to herself, Mama grew haughty and refused to decry William.

I waited hours with the hot sun beating down upon me before leaving.

Toward gloaming, Edward hunted the woods near Am Meer until he found me crying amongst the roots of our ancient oak.

His smile was apologetic as he knelt and showed the scarlet welt across the back of his hand—proof his tutor wouldn’t release him until his Greek translation was perfect.

“Jameson told me,” he said. “Had I known, I would have risked my father’s wrath earlier.”

“I hate him,” I said, meaning the tutor. That particular one was new and had cost me many an afternoon with Edward. “I wish he’d die or quit.”

Edward grinned. “Henry’s not idly waiting for either of those options. I warrant before the day ends, he’ll be considering leaving his post.”

I gave a teary laugh, hoping Henry had planted bees in the man’s bed again. “Good.”

Edward rose, extended his hand. “Come back and dance with me.”

Even at that tender age I felt a dart of pride that, despite my being ostracized, Lord Auburn’s youngest son sought me out to dance.

There was a slight hush when Edward led me to the center of the dance area. From the corner of my eye, I caught Mama standing, her face white as chalk.

Edward and I took our places, not caring a whit what anyone thought. The sound of violin and quiet hum of chatter carried
through the thick summer air as he moved us through the dancers. Bright, twinkling stars proclaimed their joy above us. No one wore pride like Edward. It was as if he’d chosen me for his peculiar treasure and nothing pleased him more than my delight.

When the final strains finished, he grinned. “If my tutor discovers me gone, he’ll whip me certain.” He pointed to a hole in his trouser leg. “Besides, I should be on hand when my father discovers I set loose several shingles.”

“Julia?” Mama’s voice sounded from the fringes of the party.

I looked askance at her, taking a fortifying breath. Edward gave me a grin before dipping his head and disappearing into the blackness outside the glow of paper lanterns.

As Lord Dalry and I reached the grand staircase, my steps faltered and a great sadness engulfed me. I didn’t want to be Julia Pierson.

“You’ll do perfectly fine,” Lord Dalry said, mistaking the reason for my hesitation. Then, surprising me with his boldness, he lifted my chin. “I’ll stay near you the entire evening. If you need help, you’ve but to look at me, and I’ll come. I promise.”

I attempted a smile, for he truly believed I would someday become as polished and refined as he was. But to me he was like a chained man, weathering the storms of life, beckoning me to come and take shelter beneath his silk umbrella. Yet how could I, when someone like Edward still waited, hand outstretched, drenched but unconstrained?

I shifted my gaze to the group of gentlemen staggered near the top of the stairs. Discordant strains of music carried through the wintry air as musicians tuned instruments. Tall and distinguished, my father rapped his stick on each step, announcing his presence. The men turned. A few hid cigars behind their backs out of courtesy to me. Lord Melbourne broke from their group and pattered down the distance between us.

“Pierson, welcome.” He bowed and took my hand, kissing it. “Miss Pierson, I hear the queen was rather pleased with you.”

I dipped, borrowing Lord Dalry’s serene expression. “Thank you for arranging it.”

He gave me a perfunctory nod, then turned to my father. “Have you taken my suggestion and arranged her dance card?”

Nodding, my father reached into his waistcoat and produced a gold book, which he rendered to the prime minister.

Lord Melbourne opened it and scanned the names, his breath rising in puffs. “The first two dances? On the night she comes out. Are you certain?”

My father tapped his shining shoes against the concrete step, looking down. “Yes, I’ve had two more offers since we last spoke, both members of my party. There’s only going to be ill will spread amongst them if we don’t establish their upcoming union tonight.”

Lord Melbourne handed me my dance card. His sideburns shone in the torchlight as he winked. “Yes, I heard about Barnes. Somehow I don’t fancy your daughter would relish a marriage with someone twice her age.”

I choked and began coughing.

“Allow me to escort you inside, Miss Pierson.” Lord Dalry’s face was bland, but his eyes shone with disapproval toward the prime minister.

“By all means, Dalry, take her.” Lord Melbourne wrapped his arm around my father’s shoulders, moving him toward the gentlemen. “Join us, Roy. Dalry will care for her. We were just beginning to discuss India.”

I could tell by my father’s face he had no desire to leave, but he went. Leading me inside, Lord Dalry lowered his head near mine. “There is the ladies’ dressing room.” He pointed to my left. “Go ready yourself. I’ll meet you here in a minute.”

Trying to walk as Lady Beatrice had taught me, I entered the indicated room. Scents of talc filled the space. Instead of the froths of tulle, silks, and satins I expected, the room was empty except for a row of maids, all of whom looked eager to assist.
They removed my cape, and wonderment filled their faces as they viewed my gown.

“Shall I check your dress for loose—” the maid plumping my dress licked her lips as though trying to decide whether they were real or not—“pearls?”

I touched my neckline, feeling their coolness. Every pearl on this dress was exactly the size of every other pearl, making me wonder how much my father paid. I imagined an individual white jewel coming loose and rolling over the dance floor. A fortune lost. “Yes, please.”

When she determined everything was in place, I stepped out of the dressing room and found Lord Dalry waiting where he promised. An elegant smile curved his lips as he looked in the direction of the ballroom. His ivory waistcoat offset his gleaming white shirt, which notched over his jawline. When he spotted me, his expression changed to relief.