Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (54 page)

That evening Lady Northrum raised my chin and smiled at me. “Roy, your daughter doesn’t look well. Perhaps a hiatus from London would put bloom back in her cheeks.”

Her touch startled me from the private world I’d been wandering through. Realizing that she and her husband were taking their leave, I tottered to my feet, nearly losing my balance.

“Forgive me. I . . .” I blinked, unable to think of a suitable excuse for neglecting my duty. Being engrossed in memories of Edward was no proper excuse, particularly as her ladyship was there to consult on plans for the upcoming wedding.

My father stiffened but studied me with concern. “I may take your advice. Thank you.”

She smiled and nodded before patting Isaac’s cheek. As she stepped into the night, the feathers on her headdress danced in the north wind. Even though she counted Mr. Macy as one of her friends, I liked her, even trusted her.

“Aren’t you well?” my father asked.

“Just a headache,” I lied. It wouldn’t do to hurt Isaac on the eve of our engagement.

“If I may . . .” Isaac moved me closer to him. “Why don’t I go read to your daughter, sir?”

My father adjusted his cuff links. “No, I need both of you circulating with the others. If her head hurts, let her rest for a half hour and then join us.”

There were other guests there that night; in fact, the dining room was filled to capacity, a rarity for London House. Outside of the Northrums and Forrester, however, the only other person I truly recall from that dinner is Isaac. He seemed particularly compassionate toward me, forgoing all questions
about the farmer and making certain I didn’t miss necessary cues, such as picking up my utensils first, allowing everyone to begin. Looking back, I understand why. He took great pains to cause no stir or even whisper that would threaten the stability of the house of cards so very near completion. He’d endured much, patiently waiting for the day when he could shape his own future.

Isaac kissed my temple, then whispered, “Shall I have James bring you laudanum?”

I gave him a slight shake of my head.

My father placed his hand on Isaac’s arm and directed him from the chamber. “Do you think Lady Northrum’s assessment of Julia correct? What say you to a week at Maplecroft? Be out of the city while the news breaks? Breathe some country air? Think it will suit her?”

“I think the idea’s capital, sir!”

“Good, good. I’ll alert the staff. We’ll leave in the morning.”

I held in my noise of disgust as they withdrew. Had they asked my opinion, they would have known I had no desire to visit the estate. I hated its empty halls and freezing silence. At least here in London everything was bustling, moving, going. Here, petty matters cropped up every hour, temporarily distracting me from the heartache of Edward.

I turned from their retreating forms and took refuge in the drawing room, where I’d first met Lady Beatrice. I took the settee near a window. At least there I could watch the streets for occupation.

Past eleven, Mr. Forrester wandered in from the library, smoking a cigar. Though I registered him, I pretended I hadn’t until a thick cloud of blue smoke filled the chamber. I turned. “It’s impolite to smoke with a lady present.”

“Which is why I would never dream of it,” Mr. Forrester
replied. Then before I could rise, he plopped down in a chair and said, “Well, well, well, Macy’s planted you nicely. Tell him he can be pleased. Your father and Isaac have settled your wedding date, which house you’ll let, which servants will transfer with you. They’re still in debate over the honeymoon.”

I felt a stab of betrayal and closed my book, stunned. No one had consulted me.

“Six weeks away from wedded bliss and fulfilling the next stage of why Macy placed you here . . . that is, unless I can convince Isaac of your continuing affair with Macy.” Mr. Forrester stretched out his feet and crossed them.

Mentally I did quick calculations. That would be May. I was stunned that Isaac would just make these plans without me. Outraged, even. It didn’t seem possible, yet Mr. Forrester was too sure of himself to doubt it.

“If you notice . . .” Mr. Forrester raised his hands and spread out his fingers near his ear, managing to keep the cigar. “It’s close to midnight, and I’m still here, not off on some wild-goose chase.”

I stirred from my incredulity, not particularly caring about Mr. Greenham at that moment. I was too furious with Isaac. I threw my book aside as I charged toward the door. “James!”

He arrived within seconds.

“Tell Isaa—”
No,
I thought, cutting off my own words. I would not call him Isaac when I was this angry. “Tell
Lord Dalry
I wish to see him.”

“You little wench,” Mr. Forrester cried, springing from his chair. “The moment you learn the wedding is now upon you, you try to send your future bridegroom to his—” He stopped, pulled his revolver from his pocket, and checked the chamber. “Never mind, I’ll spring the trap myself.”

It wasn’t until he stormed out the front door that I realized Forrester thought I intended to send Isaac to Mr. Greenham. James watched, goggle-eyed.

I was too furious to care. “Never mind, James. Go tell them both that I went to bed. I will not rejoin the guests, as my presence apparently isn’t required for anything!”

The next day, Isaac tried to catch my eye as he assisted me from the carriage, but I avoided his gaze, as I had since we’d left London. That entire day had been a disaster. It began at breakfast when my father discovered the engagement hadn’t been announced in Forrester’s paper. His mood wasn’t lightened by the staff’s harried attempt to get us out the door, nor by my utter refusal to speak to either him or Isaac. The entire carriage ride had been a silent standoff to see who could maintain a foul mood the longest—my father or myself.

“Julia,” Isaac whispered as my feet touched the ground, “please, I don’t know what’s happening, but I must go see Mother and Kate. Will you be all right for a few hours?”

I gave a curt nod, focusing on the towering grey stone of Maplecroft.

“What is it?” he pressed.

“You set our wedding date?”

He glanced at my father, who brushed past us as though he hadn’t heard and made his way to the house. Isaac waited until he was out of hearing. “May I ask who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

Isaac took my hand in his. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Go home to your family.” I broke free, then gathering my skirts, hastened toward Maplecroft.

He caught my arm, forcing me to stop. “You have no idea what I’ve been battling for the last twenty-four hours. If he’d had his way, we’d both be standing before an archbishop right this second with a special license. After the coverage of the ball, Lord Alexander attempted to make his offer for your hand more tantalizing. Your father nearly conceded, too!”

I attempted to shake him off. “You expect me to believe my father would choose someone over you?”

“Yes, because Lord Alexander offered me his sister in the arrangement.” He pulled me behind the carriage, out of sight of Maplecroft. “Her dowry rivals yours, and everyone knows his older brother is near death from wasting disease. Your father would gain two empires instead of one.”

My cape snapped in the wind as I considered this.

“Imagine the temptation your father felt. But I insisted I’d only marry you. And the only way to satisfy him was to finalize our plans. There wasn’t time to consult you.” Isaac shook his head. “And the way Alexander’s been spending his time lately, he’d probably give you a disease.”

“Disease?”

Isaac actually blushed, and deeply. “Do not repeat that!” He pulled me closer to him. “Now you understand. Who even told you about any of this? I expressly told your father I wanted to be the one to give you these tidings.”

“Forrester,” I admitted.

He made a noise of exasperation. “I cannot wait for the hour when I can finally free you of his presence! But until then, refuse to talk to him. Now, will you be all right for a few hours?”

I turned my head and viewed Maplecroft, recalling my first view of it beneath the moon. Little did I know then, by setting foot inside, I’d lose any means to control my life. The walls of my world were crumbling faster than I could repair them. As if sensing what was brewing, I suddenly wished Isaac didn’t have to go and visit his mother. “Yes, but how long will you be gone?”

Isaac breathed relief and kissed my forehead. “That’s my girl. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

The following afternoon four gentlemen bashed on the front door of Maplecroft and demanded entrance. Once more the
hall was filled with barking hounds and loud voices as the men made it clear their little women
would
celebrate Isaac’s and my betrothal—dash that the newspapers hadn’t carried the announcement yet. They’d heard it from the Dalrys themselves, which was good enough for them—besides, the neighborhood could use a good fete.

My father acquiesced, likely happy to have further proof Isaac and I had truly conceded to become engaged.

That night, Miss Moray added jeweled combs to my hair. My father had already gone to the home of Colonel Greenley, our host. The plan was that Isaac and I would appear together.

Though not in London, Miss Moray adorned me with an unusual amount of jewelry. I stared, dismayed. My every movement glittered, scattering prisms in an aura about me.

“Are you not pleased?” Her voice was testy.

“Shall I not appear too . . .”
Arrogant, haughty, conceited
all ran through my mind. “Sparkly?”

“You are genteel. This is your first appearance here after being a headliner for months. You must look your part.”

I sat before the mirror as her angry footsteps receded. A glance at the clock told me there wasn’t time regardless. With a sigh, I resolved to be a shimmering spectacle and grabbed my fan.

I envied Isaac as I descended the stairs. He looked smart—dashing, even—as he stood next to James, our chosen chaperone. The footman’s eyes widened as he scanned my appearance. His mouth twisted as he struggled to gain composure. Isaac didn’t lift an eyebrow, telling me how truly awful it was, for I knew his trained demeanor when I encountered it.

I spread my skirts. “I look ridiculous. They’re going to think me vain.”

“They’re going to think you look lovely.” Isaac took my hand and kissed it. “You’re not nervous, are you? Not after all those court functions.”

“It’s not that. It’s just . . .” I hesitated but then realized nothing except the full truth would satisfy him. I extended my arms, allowing the wall sconces to catch the facets, bouncing and scattering prisms of light. James placed his gloved fist over his mouth but choked out a laugh before he could help it.

Isaac shot him a deadly warning look. “You’re fine. They’ll assume it’s the fashion in London.” He took my arm and moved me toward the door. “There is something important I need to talk to you about before we arrive, though. There’s going to be a girl in attendance tonight.” He looked pained. “Evelyn Greenley, the colonel’s daughter. I fear . . . I fear news of our betrothal may upset her greatly.”

Here was news! I looked at him, shocked. “She was your sweetheart? Before me, I mean?”