Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (58 page)

I bent my head in a shy manner, allowing Macy to move and manipulate me. I instinctively felt the magnitude of our mistake by going there that night, and I wanted time to analyze, which meant claiming the safety of his amusement.

Sweat beaded Forrester’s face, but he maintained his confident swagger.

Macy opened the door to a chamber that was more cathedral than drawing room. Though I’d seen it before, and though I’d lived with my father, it still impressed. Lacunar ceilings towered above shining floors decorated with zebra-skin rugs and plush velvet furniture. Within the hearth, tiles glistened as fire
inhabited its logs. The chamber’s crown was equally impressive. The fan-tracery vaulting was gilt, as were fanned ceiling bosses. I eyed the ceiling’s recesses, lined with sky-blue paper overrun with golden vines.

Macy positioned me near a love seat and gestured for me to sit. Forrester plopped into the seat across from me, while Macy poured three brandies.

Balancing the snifters, Macy extended the first one to Forrester.

“Thank you, but no,” Forrester said. “I hope you wouldn’t use your botany skills until you’ve heard us out, but I don’t feel like chancing it.”

“Botany?” I asked.

Mr. Macy laughed as he perched on the arm of the love seat. “Yes, dear heart. I dabble in the poisons. Good heavens, Robert, if I decide to allow you to leave, I hope you’ll choose better-informed partners.” He planted a glass in my hands. “Surely you know I wouldn’t poison you.”

Mr. Forrester shot me a warning look.

All at once, Eastbourne’s hothouse made sense, the plants he’d painstakingly journalled in his library and the powder he’d given me at his residence in London after tending my wounds. I recalled mornings at Eastbourne when he had managed to function despite having no sleep. I stared at the amber liquid, wondering if this was how Mama died—a combined effort of Macy and Greenham.

Macy planted his bare feet on the nearby seat cushion, then elbows on knees, waiting. His eyes glowed with expectancy as Forrester slowly shook his head.

I knew in my heart of hearts that Macy had the upper hand at this point. I needed to drink it, if only to make Macy think he held more control over me than he actually did. I lifted the glass, gave Macy a frightened look, and took a long sip.

Macy smirked at Forrester as he slid onto the love seat. Knee
bent, he placed one leg behind me and dropped his other leg to the floor.

“Now tell me.” He removed the ruby combs from my hair. “How did Robert convince you to take this measure?” Macy’s fingers pulled loose and unbraided my tresses.

I glared at Forrester, silently demanding he protest. But he only watched, tight-lipped. My breath caught as I wondered what sort of imbecile would bring me to Eastbourne without sharing his plans.

“It’s all right, darling.” Macy tilted his head and touched a pulsing vein on my neck as if fascinated. “There’s no need for fear. I already forgive you.” He lifted his head toward the door and shouted, “Snyder!”

The door opened and two men entered.

Macy waved toward Forrester. “Lock him in a secure chamber. I’ll decide what to do about him in the morning.” His fingers strayed to the buttons along the back of my dress. “Tell Reynolds my wife and I wish to adjourn to her bedchambers. Tell him I won’t be tolerating disturbances tonight.”

Here, I finally found protest. “Not until you’ve heard me out.” I wrenched from his touch. “Forrester stays until I’ve said what I’ve come to say.”

This, too, amused Macy. He motioned his men to leave, then propped his chin on his hand. “All right, sweetheart. Tell me what you know and what you’re demanding. I’ll pay double your demands, if you like.”

“I imagine her first request is to stop hearing your false endearments,” Forrester said, color returning to his cheeks. “She’s soon to marry Reverend Auburn, and I’m certain her future husband wouldn’t approve her spending the night with you.”

Macy chuckled and kissed my palm. “Is that what he promised you, dear heart? How does he think he’ll convince Roy?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Forrester laced his hands over his knee.
“I think I’ll just point out to him that a poor man is better than a Gypsy. That should work, don’t you think, Mr. Rainmayer?”

Macy had been tenderly tracing the side of my face, but his fingers instantly curled into a fist. All charm and all charisma vanished. There was a chilling silence, during which Macy probed my eyes, shooting tendrils of fear through me.

Forrester grinned, switching his laced hands to the back of his head. “Julia and I have both entrusted our information to confidential sources. Unlike my father, if something happens to us, your secret will be exposed in my newspaper immediately. So first, you can wish us long and happy lives.”

I swallowed, amazed Forrester couldn’t feel the murderous intent radiating from Macy.

“And just what exactly do you hope to get from me?” Macy’s voice was guttural.

Forrester picked imaginary lint off his frock coat, crossing his feet. “I don’t think you have anything worth offering. We have our own fortunes, making your ill-gotten gain of no interest. After that, she pretty much owns the rest, doesn’t she?” Forrester leaned slightly forward, crossing an arm over his knee. “You will go back to the restrictions my father placed on you. For our silence, you will remove yourself from society. You will return to the reclusive life he imposed on you.”

The vein in Mr. Macy’s neck throbbed, though he kept a calm demeanor. He gave a slight tilt of his head, his eyes hard and glittering, like those of a raptor. His baleful gaze settled on me.

Having already pieced together that Macy’s real name must be Rainmayer, I did my best to feign shock. I cast him a look that I hoped conveyed confusion and fear.

“You’ve tested my patience too far, dear,” he said in a voice that rendered me cold from head to foot.

Mr. Forrester leaned forward and plucked the brandy glass from my hand. “Be glad she’s not charging you rent.”

Panic closed off my throat, making it difficult to breathe. How
could he not see Macy aimed to murder us? It was so clear. He was a cornered animal, willing himself to be calm before the kill.

Macy’s left hand came to rest on my shoulder, causing me to jump. His grip was tight. “Julia, I need you to go to your chambers. Even now I shall be lenient with you, but I have further business to discuss with Forrester.”

Forrester ceased looking boastful, as though finally realizing our danger.

Macy placed a kiss at the base of my neck, rebuttoning the top of my dress. “Go. Have Reynolds wait with you. I shall be there shortly.”

My hair stood on end as I looked at Mr. Forrester. He was a dead man the moment I set foot out that door. The calculated way Macy’s eyes roamed over him confirmed he was already playing out the deed in his mind.

I rose as commanded but was unable to move. Mr. Macy stood, took my elbow, and guided me to the hall. At the threshold, I faced him. “Don’t kill Forrester. Please. I beg you.”

Macy signalled his men to approach.

“Please!” I clutched his robe, praying somehow there was a way out of this nightmare.

Macy’s features offered no insight into his thoughts, but he said, “What did you hope to gain tonight, Julia?”

“Edward. Forrester promised to convince my father. I didn’t even know what we held over you until now.”

Macy angled his head to study my face, then held up a finger to his men. “Where did Forrester find his information?”

“Tell him nothing,” Forrester demanded behind me.

“Watch him,” Macy commanded his men, moving me farther down the hall.

I glanced toward the entrance doors, hugging myself. “Mr. Greenham.”

Macy’s eyes narrowed. “John! What the blazes does John have to do with this?”

“At a costume ball. He sent me a letter—”

“How?”

“He sent a farmer.”

“How do you know his occupation?”

“I asked; he was tanned and his hair sunned.”

Macy nodded agreement with my assessment. “What accent did he have? What part of the country?”

“The Midlands.”

“Be more specific.”

“I swear it, I don’t know.”

“His name?”

“He called himself Thomas. That’s all I know.”

Macy shut his eyes for a second, unclenching his fist before he moved me to a bench. “Tell me word for word what John said in his letter.”

I swallowed, feeling wretched. Today so far, I’d betrayed my father’s trust by agreeing to help Forrester, Isaac’s by kissing Edward, Forrester’s by confessing to Macy, and now it was Greenham’s turn. “It said he had the papers that Forrester’s father owned. He wanted Forrester to meet him.”

“Where?”

“Margrove Tavern, Lea—”

“Leadenhall Street. I know it. How long ago?”

“Three days.”

He was all astonishment. “What else did the note say?”

“That if I didn’t trust Forrester, he’d make contact later.”

Appearing incredulous, Macy rose and started pacing. “Contact you! That breaks the first rule. He knows better . . .” He placed one hand on his hip and covered his mouth in deep thought.

All at once, he turned and looked at me as if he’d never seen me before. Had I transformed into a shining goddess, he couldn’t have stared at me with more amazement. Steepling his hands before his face, he paced anew. With brows drawn
together, he looked menacing. His steps were planted as though he willed the floor to give way to his foot instead of being content to walk with permission like the rest of humanity.

The results of his thoughts carried such magnitude that he dropped to his seat and sat with legs spread, hands on knees, and mouth agape—as if too weighted by his own plan to move. He looked at me once, started to speak, but then covered his mouth and again thought deeply as if reviewing every detail anew.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he finally said. “To spare your feelings, I’m telling you this in advance. There is no longer an easy transition back to me. I fear it takes no ordinary bait to bag extraordinary game.” He drew me into his arms and pressed kisses in my hair, but there was no affection in them, only excitement. “I fear you shan’t enjoy being dangled, but know this: no matter how bad it becomes, when you’re returned to me, you shall find me as doting as ever.”

There was no proper response to those words. In them I heard the foreknowledge of my and my father’s doom. Yet those fateful words also held a promise of escape—at least temporarily—and that was all I wanted.

Lacing his fingers in mine, Macy drew me back to the drawing room. Forrester waited, soaked in perspiration, pointing a revolver at the men guarding the door.

“They may both leave,” Macy said to his men, gesturing toward the front door.

Shaking, Forrester edged the room, keeping his revolver trained on Macy’s chest. I looked askance at Macy, not certain what to make of him. He nodded once, as if assuring that his permission to leave was genuine.

Forrester roughly grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the entrance. Fearing to take my gaze off Macy, I watched him all the way to the doors. He stood, impassive and expressionless.

When the door closed behind us, Forrester exploded. “What did you tell him?”

I twisted from his hand, then rubbed my arm. “Everything!”

“You almost killed us!”

“Don’t yell at me!” I screamed back at him. “If it wasn’t for me, right now you would be undergoing torture!”

“He was
testing
you! Seeing if you had the nerve to stand up! What do you do? You fawn all over him, making cow eyes!”

Furious, I ran ahead, scooped up pinecones, then turned and pelted them at Forrester. “And
you
just sat there! He would have killed you, if it—”

Forrester grabbed my arm midthrow, none too nicely. “Stop screaming. His house is always under surveillance. The last thing he needs to learn is that we aren’t unified.”

I dropped the pinecones and wiped my hands on my skirt, laughing with hysteria. “Yes, let’s not let him guess that!” Then, feeling sick, “We’ve just made everything much, much worse. So, so much worse.”

“He only wants you to think that. Now that he knows we can dislodge him from society, he wants you to think he’s in control. I guarantee you, right now he’s much more worried about how we found out our information.”

“I told him.”

“You told him!” Forrester’s voice rose to a high pitch. “What did you say?”

“That a farmer from the Midlands was my contact.”

“For months I’ve been trying to get information out of you! Months!” Forrester’s feet slid over the steep hill. “Five minutes with Macy and you divulge everything you know. You’ve ruined us.”

Instead of responding, I focused on my climb. My hands were raw from digging into the dirt and clutching at tree roots, trying to keep myself from sliding down. What did it matter what Forrester said? It was a miracle we’d made it out of Eastbourne. I couldn’t even contemplate where I’d be if we hadn’t.

At the top, Forrester paused and waited. I could make out
his dark form against the sky. Dirt and stones tumbled downhill whenever I lost my footing, but he never offered help.

“Let’s get you to your bedchamber,” he said when I managed to reach the top.

I sat, needing to catch my breath first. Beneath us, the lights of Eastbourne were extinguished one by one. “Explain to me,” I said, steadying my breath, “who Mr. Rainmayer is.”

“Shall I give you my documentation too? That way you can run down the hill and supply him with that next!”

I picked pine needles from my hair. “If you don’t tell me, I’m marching upstairs and waking my father to tell him you dragged me to Eastbourne.”

Forrester made a frustrated noise. “
That
is how you blackmail! Not whatever the dickens you were doing down there.” Then, when I placed my hand on my hip, he dropped to the ground next to me.

“The late Mr. Macy lost his wife early in marriage and went abroad. He died on the voyage home, leaving only his son, Chance, from a second marriage as his heir. Or so we thought.”

“Chance Macy wasn’t his son?”

Forrester shook his head. “No. From what my father pieced together, Chance was a Gypsy hired on as a servant. But when he arrived in England, he walked off the boat as Macy’s son. If you ask me, though I have no absolute proof, he probably killed his master in order to assume the role.”