Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (53 page)

The truth was, the ladies’ questions fell on deaf ears. Who could note their idle chatter while the men debated weightier
matters? And Isaac was nothing less than extraordinary. At home he was so meek and quiet I never would have believed the passion with which he now argued points with the men. Those I knew to be Conservatives watched him with shining eyes, anticipating his joining the House of Lords next year. As expected, I held my tongue, not wanting my father or Isaac to be embarrassed by a woman interjecting her opinions. Yet my gratitude for Isaac had never been more complete. I knew in private he’d listen to my thoughts in full. I paid keen attention, aware that I would always have audience with one of the most influential politicians in the country.

EVERY FIBER of my body recoiled as I turned Mr. Greenham’s missive about in my hands. The paper was cheap and thin, but it was sealed with an excessive amount of wax. With the tip of my finger, I touched the waxen ridges. The impression itself was unlike any I’d ever seen before. It was a double cameo that featured two ancient Greeks. The Spartan in the forefront was bearded, helmeted for battle, while the Athenian’s face was scholarly with a classical expression. They brought to mind the sharp contrast between my father and Isaac. Behind the sealing wax, ink as brown as mahogany bled through the folded page, showing the refined script of a gentleman.

Knowing I needed to hurry, I bit my lip. Somewhere three floors beneath, Isaac and my father partook of brandy. My father wanted a report on the evening the moment Isaac, Simmons, and I returned. Likely enough, when my father learned what had transpired, he’d burst into my chambers demanding explanation.

If I wanted to know what the letter contained, reading it now was my best chance.

Even so, the idea of opening a letter from Mama’s murderer stretched me. I shut my eyes, trying to remember what it had felt like to be free, to breathe in a deep lungful of fresh air, to sit across from Edward’s smiling face.

Willing all emotions to fade, I removed a pin from my hair. I knew, of course, the letter’s content would shift my world yet again. I just never could have imagined how much.

J,

Chance is far from discontinuing his disturbances in your life. I wish to entrust information with the hope that knowledge will give you a greater measure of security than ignorance.

I have in my keeping the papers that Forrester’s father once had. If you trust that Forrester will not betray me, tell him to meet me at the Margrove Tavern, Leadenhall Street, 23 March, Friday going into Saturday, midnight.

Take extreme precaution. Chance is far more dangerous than even your father perceives.

Burn this letter. Tell no one, as this information will endanger their life. Should you be unwilling to trust Forrester, send no one and I’ll contact you another time.

May God protect and keep you. I pray for your safety.

Your humble servant,

J

I memorized the names, then held the corner of the page over the flame and watched it darken before igniting. When it curled to its death, I scattered the ashes until nothing legible remained.

Isaac met my gaze the following morning as he unfolded his napkin.

My stomach clenched, and I avoided his stare. The last thing I wanted to do was to place him in danger. I stiffened as my father entered the chamber, waiting for him to demand to know why I had disobeyed Isaac and danced with a farmer, but my father only gave a curt nod before grabbing his newspaper. A front-page article caught his attention straightaway, but Isaac’s steadfast gaze pinned me.

He might have delayed telling my father, but judging by his expression, he hadn’t forgotten the incident. I pretended to consider the dish of oysters and bacon that James lowered for me. I had not anticipated how to handle Isaac. I pressed my lips. Keeping him off the scent would be highly difficult while trying to arrange a private encounter with Forrester. Surely that alone would arouse Isaac’s suspicion.

“Just tea, please,” I finally told James.

“Why aren’t you eating, Julia?” Isaac asked.

I flushed with guilt as I met his gaze.

With a loud thwack, the
Times
landed between us on the table. We both jumped and looked at my father, amazed. He handed me the paper with one of his withering stares.

It wasn’t hard to locate the article that had upset him so. Skipping the description of the ball, I read only the part that mentioned Isaac and me.

Lord Dalry and Miss Pierson spent little time circulating, keeping to their own private tryst. Their engagement is expected posthaste, as their attachment was well evidenced by a public kiss.

I clasped my hand over my mouth as Isaac scrambled to find what upset us.

My father stood, his hands rooted on the table. “You dared to kiss her in public without an engagement?”

“What?” Isaac scanned the paper. “Oh no! Oh, Julia, I never imagined . . . I was only trying to lessen the speculation over our fight.”

“Fight?” My father knocked the paper out of Isaac’s hand in a sweeping motion. “You argued? What about?”

“I can’t tell you, sir.”

My father’s face turned crimson. “If you kiss my daughter in public, then I’m entitled to demand answers. We are sending an announcement of your engagement to the papers today.”

I gasped and rose also.

“Sir, you can’t. I’ve not asked your daughter to marry me yet. We are not engaged.”

“Enough!” My father’s voice came out a roar. “Ask her, and ask her now!”

“Oh, be serious, sir! This is not the way I intend to ask for her hand, with you looming over us because of a newspaper article.”

My father sent a frosty gaze his way. “Tomorrow, whether you’ve asked her or not, there’s going to be an announcement in the paper!”

My father stormed from the chamber. Isaac signalled for me not to panic as he hurried after him.

I sank to my chair because my knees felt too weak to support me. Though I’d been telling myself that I hadn’t entertained false hope, I realized it was a lie.

All I could picture was Edward reading the news, and how he would never learn or understand that my heart had never been for this. I felt positively ill.

“What’s so urgent that your father can’t wait?” Mr. Forrester asked as he burst through the doors of London House and found
me sitting on the bench in the hall. He yanked off his cloak and shoved it into James’s hands. “Where is he?”

Even though I sat there on the off chance that Forrester actually would visit today, I was so stunned I dutifully indicated the correct chamber. “They’re both in the library, talking.”

Mr. Forrester sneered and started down the hall without so much as a bow.

“Wait!” I jumped to my feet, recovering my wits. “I need to tell you something.”

He knocked me aside, touching the spot where his goose egg had been. “Forgive me, but I don’t fancy another dealing with you. Good day, Miss Pierson.”

I grabbed his sleeve. “It’s about Greenham.”

He halted and half turned. “I swear I must be an idiot. What? What about Greenham?”

I wet my lips, looking at James, then lowered my voice. “He wishes to meet privately with you.”

Mr. Forrester placed a hand on his hip. “Trust a Macy girl to have contact with her mother’s murderer. I swear, I don’t know how he finds them. How would you know?”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not at liberty to tell.”

“No, of course you’re not. Stop wasting my time.” He started toward the library.

“It was a letter!” I stepped behind him. “He claims he has the documentation that your father had, and he’s willing to hand it over.”

Mr. Forrester turned, looking as though he’d tasted something rotten. “Show me. I know his penmanship.”

I wrung my hands, watching as James left. “I burned it. It was in the instructions.”

He touched his forehead as if he were daft for not immediately understanding. “Oh, how foolish of me. Tell me more about this letter that can’t be verified.”

I allowed my hands to drop. “Never mind. I can see you don’t believe me.”

“No, no,” he said, crossing his arms, broadening his smile. “Quite the contrary. I’ve never met a more honest girl in my life. Of course I believe you. You have my full attention.”

I felt so frustrated I could have kicked him. I crossed my arms, thinking of all the insults I wanted to say. “If you would just listen! Greenham asked me to arrange for you to meet him tonight, at midnight.”

“Oh, my, so soon? How utterly efficient. What would you have done had I not stopped by today?”

“He’s risked his life to communicate with me. The least you could do is hear me out.”

“I’m all ears. Please continue.”

I could see this was useless, yet I delivered the message. “Leadenhall Street, Margrove Tavern. Do whatever you wish.”

“Tell Macy that by now he ought to be able to set a better trap,” he said, reaching for the library door handle.

“I half hope it is Macy,” I said, “and you go and never return.”

“There are your true colors.” He tipped his hat. “Now, let’s go see if this ‘urgent’ visit with your father was set up by you too. Thank you for today’s entertainment.”

He joined my father and Isaac, still laughing to himself.

I sank to the bench and cupped my forehead in my hands, waiting.

A half hour later an ashen-faced Mr. Forrester emerged, tucking a folded piece of paper inside his waistcoat. My father stepped to the threshold, his face black, revealing that they’d argued.

Forrester gave him a curt nod, no friendliness in it. “Roy, please, I’m telling you, this move will forever destroy Isaac.”

“Do you want the announcement or not?” was my father’s unyielding reply.

Forrester glared at me. It was immature, but I smirked. Let him stew on the fact I was marrying his precious Lord Dalry. At least someone else felt sickened over this too.