Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (44 page)

“Julia.” His words were a sigh as he kissed my temple, then trailed along the side of my face.

By allowing one weak moment, I’d committed my cruelest act to date. As though an unravelling thread were being pulled, I had to stop this somewhere, lest everything come undone. Pulling away, I met his gaze. The love that filled his eyes was unbearable. He mistook my dismay for surrender, for he drew me against him, kissing my neck.

The front door rattled.

Wiping his bottom lip, Isaac spun. My father and Simmons gave us a disgruntled glance before entering.

“Honestly, Isaac.” My father shoved his walking stick between the umbrellas in the blue-and-white porcelain stand. He yanked off the white silk scarf, then fumbled with his greatcoat buttons. “What if I had brought a guest back to the house with me?”

“I know how this must look, sir, but I assure you. It was . . . I—I—” Isaac wet his lips and took a deep breath. He extended one hand as if to speak, but it didn’t appear as though words were coming.

I crossed my arms, pulling them to my stomach, knowing how much harder it would be the next time I needed to refuse a betrothal on the basis that I still didn’t love Isaac.

My father gave a dismissive wave. “Not here. Go to the library. We’ll discuss it there.” Isaac bowed and retreated. Once he was gone, my father yanked at the fingers of his gloves, slowly considering me.

I resisted the urge to wipe my lips, though I still felt Isaac’s
kisses. My father narrowed his eyes. I lifted my chin and looked away, feeling contrary. Why had he so freely dismissed Isaac but censured me?

In a sudden burst of anger, I coldly met his eye. Let him see that I wasn’t swooning over Isaac. “What?” I finally asked. “Is that not what you wanted?”

He shoved his gloves into his pockets. “Go to bed, Julia.”

I started up the stairs, measuring each step to show him that I was not afraid, but then realized I needed to tell him about tonight.

“Lord Alexander knows that I’m Mr. Macy’s wife.”

Even in the semidarkness, I saw his features harden. “How many times are we going to discuss this? You are not that man’s wife.” He paused, allowing his rebuke to settle. “What makes you suspect that?”

I inhaled, resisting the urge to cite English law in argument toward my being married, but answered the question he meant. I explained what had happened, but my father was unmoved.

“He wasn’t speaking of Macy,” he decided. “When he said you’d fallen amongst ‘his’ friends, he meant me. Our political alliance is a known fact. Go to bed.”

“You weren’t there,” I protested.

He gave a huff of annoyance. “No, and neither did I need to be to recognize female hysteria when I hear it.”

I had to swallow twice before answering, and when I did, I took a stab in the dark. “I’m glad Mama left you.”

He startled, giving me a queer look, but then ignored my remark and proceeded to the library.

On the second landing, I paused and glanced down. Simmons alone remained in the foyer, and he ignored me as he tended to my father’s outer garments. Moonlight streaked across his back in a pale rectangle as he bent, retrieving the articles.

My stomach twisted as I realized he’d heard every word. I still didn’t know who Macy’s spies were, but if Simmons was one, Macy would know my father’s weakness in not believing me.

EDWARD’S WATCH felt cold in the palm of my hand as it sparkled in the morning sun. In the mirror, Miss Moray observed me as she parted my hair into plaits and applied generous amounts of pomade. Tapping my thumb against the sharp end of the pin, I envisioned Isaac’s dismay and felt loathsome.

“Hold still now.” Miss Moray stepped onto a footstool so she could better position herself to coil my hair atop my head. “Don’t bend at all, or it’ll fall apart.”

I closed my fingers around the watch. How could I have allowed myself to kiss Isaac? He would expect me not to wear the pin today, especially with my father breathing down his neck. Knots tied my stomach. If I joined breakfast wearing the watch, how would it not injure him?

The rays of sun moved, warming my skirt and back, yet I felt barren.

A lump rose in my throat. None of this situation was fair to Isaac. I opened my palm and stared at the glittering pin. This desperate hope for time was playing with fire. How long until it burned me?

“There, finished.” Miss Moray dusted off her hands before using my shoulder to aid her balance as she stepped off the stool. “Best move on now.”

Arms folded tight over my stomach, I eased into the breakfast chamber, wondering how many more mornings to come would feel sickening.

Sunlight poured into the dark room, making the polished floors gleam. Isaac sat alone at the oversized table, staring at a book, yet he scarcely seemed to register the page. Rather, he gave me the impression of a man holding a book to keep occupied.

“Isaac.” Fearing I’d spoken too softly to be heard, I pulled my shawl tight.

He jumped to his feet, casting aside the book. His gaze riveted on the pin. He wrinkled his brow, but as understanding dawned, his face paled.

Not realizing the unspoken tension, James smiled at me and pulled out my chair. I refused to meet Isaac’s bruised gaze as I took my seat. Thankfully, Miss Moray had dressed me in a full skirt, and I made a show of tucking it beneath the table.

“Julia,” Isaac said.

Heat rose through my cheeks and ears as I carefully unrolled my napkin. Then, unable to keep up the charade of indifference, I cast him a pleading look not to do this.

“Julia, please believe me, I never would have kissed you . . .” His voice failed, and ducking his head, he clenched his napkin. “I thought . . . I thought—”

James’s eyes grew as round as shillings, but finding an excuse to leave the room, he bowed and shut us within.

“Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

There was a quality to Isaac’s voice that nearly undid me. What could I say? The fault did not lie with him. I focused
my gaze on a saltcellar. What if I was mistaken to hold out for Edward? I swallowed, wondering where I would be this morning if I had handed my life over to God. Would I be required to obey my father’s wishes?

“Are you not speaking to me now?” Like a defendant awaiting his verdict, Isaac waited for me to say something, anything.

A single set of footsteps reverberated in the hall, saving me from having to answer. Surprised, I glanced over my shoulder. My father was supposed to be in session. The scent of cloves filled the chamber as my father stormed into my line of view. He motioned for Isaac not to rise. “Well? Should I announce it today?”

All pain left Isaac’s countenance, though I noted his fingers tightened over his napkin. With an urbane expression, he lifted his eyes and looked at my father. “Sir?”

My father’s brow furrowed as he placed his hands on the back of his chair. “Have you finished yet? Can I send Forrester the announcement?”

Isaac opened his mouth as if suddenly remembering an appointment. “No, sir. I’ve not asked her yet.”

My father’s knuckles turned white as he waited unsuccessfully for a better response. I shifted in my seat.

“She’s sitting right there,” my father finally growled.

Isaac turned and viewed me, his gaze flickering to the watch. “Yes. I can see her.”

“Well?”

“Well, what, sir?”

I squeezed the edges of my chair as my father looked on the verge of having an apoplexy.

“I’ve had just about as much of this as I’m going to allow. I want whatever is holding up this engagement resolved.”

Isaac picked up the book he’d been holding when I entered the room and stared at it. “Sir, we agreed from the very first day that I could do this my way. I’ll ask her when I’m ready.”

My father’s upper lip curled as he turned to me. My face tightened as I strove not to cry.

“James!” My father shoved a chair against the table. “Bring me my coat and walking stick. I’ve already missed the opening session.”

James clamored into the chamber, carrying my father’s black woollen coat. My father yanked it from James’s arms and glared at Isaac. “It didn’t appear to me last night that you would be forcing anything on her.” He shoved his arms into the coat, grabbed his walking stick, and gave Isaac one last fierce glance before stomping toward the door.

Suddenly he stopped and patted his chest. “Oh yes. Of all the bothersome nonsense, Lord Billingsby sent me a note this morning. Something urgent. Whatever it is, he thought it worth missing the morning session to talk privately.” He pulled an open letter from his waistcoat and flung it on the table. “Make yourself useful today and attend him.”

Isaac reached for the note and gingerly opened it. “Sir, I believe I know what is bothering Lord Billingsby, and it involves me. You see, last night—”

“Just fix the problem!” My father motioned for James to move from the doorway.

“But, sir—”

“Isaac, I haven’t time to care what this is about. Just solve it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be out late. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Any appetite I might have had departed with my father. Isaac frowned as he read Lord Billingsby’s note for himself. Then, with a sudden flush of temper, he stood, wadded the note into a ball, and tossed it into the fire. With the poker, he jabbed his frustration out in the embers.

Without glancing again at me, Isaac grabbed his frock coat from the back of his chair and left the room, his brow creased.

“I said bloomin’ move!” a man screamed a short distance away, causing Isaac to stir and look out the carriage window with disgust. There was little to be seen, for a thick fog choked our view, tangling traffic, embedding our carriage two streets from the opera house.

Eramus smirked and tapped his palm with the silver knob of his walking stick. “Are you ready to risk exposing your precious bride to the evils of London yet?”

Isaac curled his index finger over his lips, his countenance discomposed. Someone coughed nearby, choking on the thick fumes swirling in the fog.

Eramus sat back and spread his arm. “With traffic like this, we could sit here all night. What’s your concern? It’s hardly a distance and she’ll be between us the entire time. Even Roy would approve of our arriving on foot.”

I stretched my neck, which felt cricked, then attempted to yank my velvet cape out from beneath Eramus’s boot. “I agree, Isaac. Anything would be better than sitting here.”

“All right, fine.” Isaac unfolded from his slouched position. “Since Julia desires it, we’ll attempt to walk through this gloom. Eramus, stay here while I talk to Hudson, and keep your mouth shut for once. We’re both tired of hearing your ugly voice.”

The carriage swayed as Isaac alighted with a hop. Wintry air accompanied the brume. I nestled the Elizabethan collar of my opera cloak about my face, while Isaac tried to instruct our coachman on what to do once the congestion became disentangled. Out of nowhere, a canine raced to Isaac and snarled at his feet. Hudson tried to whip the hound, making Isaac’s task all the more difficult.

“You know, Cousin.” Eramus broke into my thoughts as he leaned into view. “I pity you, having to unite your life with the family leech. You do know that is the only reason your father
allowed you into his household, don’t you? He was in the process of seeing if there was any way around his entailment. Spent the last year fighting for the right to pass it on to Isaac. Rather convenient, having a bastard daughter around to wed the leech.”