“We stayed at Am Meer for nearly a fortnight,” Lord Dalry eventually said. “The cottage is decorated rather charmingly. Have they lived there long?”
I gave him a strained look as questions screamed at me: Why did they stay at Am Meer? Why a fortnight? Had Edward been on trial? Impatient to hear the real news, I gave a curt nod. “Yes, yes . . . I believe many years now.”
“Ah, that would explain the grounds. Mrs. Windham spent half her time planting bulbs. Even this time of year I could see how magnificent her garden must be.”
All at once I realized this wasn’t his way of giving me tidings, but his way of training me. Like one waking from a trance, I dumped my teacup on the nearby saucer. Lord Dalry could hope all he wanted that I’d just sit there having tea while my life was being destroyed, but I wouldn’t. Never!
My breath came in hard pants as I resisted looking in Lord Dalry’s direction again.
“I have nothing more to say to you.” Unwilling to subject myself to his influence, I found my feet. Yet even as I did so, the urge to curtsy and formally take my leave proved stronger than my resistance. I dipped. “If you’ll please excuse me, Lord Dalry.”
He likewise rose and bowed.
Cold air enveloped me as I rushed into the hall and escaped the bizarre encounter. I braced myself against the wall, fighting tears. I pressed my fingers to my temples, knowing I needed to find a way to contact Edward and have him come and get me. But how?
“Pity,” I heard Simmons say after a few seconds. “You nearly had her acting ladylike.”
“Quiet.” Lord Dalry’s command was soft, yet unbending. “She doesn’t need criticism, but our aid.”
I heard a book slam shut. “I’ll not welcome one of Macy’s girls, even at your command. It was folly to risk everything on her.”
“Well, there’s no helping it now. The plan is already in motion.” This time Lord Dalry’s tone contained irritation. “There’s little we can do now but hope for the best.”
Simmons let out a huff. “Were I you, I’d be clambering to find an escape from your part of this scheme.”
“Keep your concern. I don’t need it.”
Simmons snorted and papers rustled. “Only a fool steps so directly in that man’s path. Don’t expect me to weep when you’re killed. You do realize you are the only one whose life is primarily in danger.”
I held my breath to ensure I heard the reply, but it was unnecessary, for a jovial laugh followed the remark. “I never presumed you to feel one of the worthier emotions. Besides, Forrester is the one I wouldn’t trade places with. My danger is nothing compared to his.”
“Don’t count upon it,” Simmons said. “Stealing a man’s wife right out from underneath his nose! This is the most reckless scheme I’ve ever been forced to embark on. For my own part, I wish myself far from here.”
“Well, no one’s asking you to do anything except manage Lord Pierson’s properties and keep quiet.” China clattered as Lord Dalry presumably dumped his cup and saucer onto the tray. “I’d best move on to the library now.”
Having no time to flee, I stepped into an empty room and pressed my ear against the door. Lord Dalry exited and made his way down the passage.
I DID NOT FIND the solace I sought in my bedchamber that afternoon. After locking myself inside, I spent all emotion and fell into a shallow slumber.
There, I dreamed of Mr. Macy.
In my sleep, I thrashed against the sheets that weighted my legs, making it impossible to run. I sobbed and fell to the marshy ground, knowing I was in a dream but unable to wake.
Wind pierced the wintry brume, raising the stench of rotting leaves and stirring the ground fog. In the haze, the urns and half-toppled columns jutting from the sloping ground resembled broken teeth.
Julia . . .
Mr. Macy’s voice, soft as a whisper, demanding as a general’s, took on an ethereal quality; just as in real life, there was no pinpointing which direction he would next come from. At times his voice arose from crumbling gravestones, and at others I caught sight of a shadow in the spinney of ghostly birches. My heart pounded as I waited for his approach, waited to awaken. Though my throat burned, I sobbed. From the distance, the sound of nails being hammered into coffins filled my ears.
“Miss Pierson!”
Gasping for air, I lurched up in my bed, clutching my covers to my chest. The hammer’s ring weakened into someone knocking on my chamber door. Slowly the fabric of my dream receded under the icy slap of sleet beating against the glass. I drew my knees to my chest and hugged them against me.
Keys rattled and my lock groaned before Mrs. Coleman cracked open the door, her round eyes illuminated in the orb of light from her single candle. “Are you all right?”
I shook my head. I would never be all right. My life had gone irrevocably off course, and I would never be able to set it right.
Mrs. Coleman placed her tiny flame on my nightstand. Tenderness filled her face for a second, but instead of comforting me, she took a deep breath and gave me the same look I’d seen her give an undermaid. “Well, chin up and dry those tears. I’m to fetch you for dinner. Your father is not one to tolerate a young lady weeping at his table, to be sure.”
I wiped away the wisps of hair plastered to my face, scarcely able to contain the sudden rush of belonging. “My father ordered me to dinner?”
Regret flickered through Mrs. Coleman’s features. “Master Isaac sent me.”
I started to pull the counterpane back over my head.
Her chest puffed as she stopped the motion. “What difference does it make who insisted you join? If you want your father’s approval, now is the time to go claim it. Be glad for the opportunity to prove yourself.”
My eyes burned from my earlier weeping. “Is Forrester attending?”
“Are you going to let a man like that stand in your way?” Without waiting for my response, she pulled back the heavy counterpane. Her eyes locked on me. “Mercy, child, did you have to sleep in your dress! Well, never mind it. Master Isaac stressed timeliness. I’ll comb and pin your hair. It’s the best we can do. James is waiting at the foot of the stairs. We need to get you to him before Eaton sees him.”
“You’re wrong, you know,” I said, sliding from the bed.
“How so?” She hastened me to the vanity.
I fell to the vanity bench and frowned at my image, trying to overrule my own feelings. “I could hardly care less what my father thinks.”
The good woman laughed outright. “I’m a mite wiser than you think. Lucky for you, I’ve handled the Pierson temperament longer than you’ve been alive. I warrant I know the two of you better than you know yourselves.”
Ten minutes sufficed to find me in the hall, wearing a deeply creased dress, with my hair pulled tightly into a bun. I clomped down the stairs, listening to the rain that pelted every window, amplifying the dreariness of Maplecroft.
James’s eyes sparkled as he stepped forward, which warped my emotions. I disliked Lord Dalry with each downward step I took, for I predicted the dinner would be a dismal failure—and because of his interference, key staff members were now hoping for a happy ending, increasing my embarrassment at being continually rejected by my father.
The closer I moved toward James, the more his smile died. He took in my dress with consternation. I nearly laughed, picturing how amused Edward would be by his reaction. James bowed, unable to take his eyes off the mass of wrinkles covering my dress. I gave him what I hoped was a distinguished nod; then, feeling like Anne Boleyn going to the execution block, I picked up my billowing skirts and followed him.
“No, we’ll let Isaac be the one to persuade him.” My father’s voice resonated with authority as we approached the threshold. “The first evening we’re back in London, go to our club and straighten out Lord Alexander.”
“I highly doubt he’ll listen to me,” came Lord Dalry’s vexed-sounding answer. “He never even hears a word I say, but sits blowing smoke rings. You should be
the one to refuse him.”
“Nonsense.” My father’s tone stopped me cold. “I know you don’t care for his character, but it’s time you overlooked it. We need his continued support.”
Mr. Forrester’s obnoxious laugh followed the clinking of a glass. “Isaac’s right, Roy. If he’s the one to inform Lord Alexander, he’ll only see it as a challenge. It might aggravate the situation. You shouldn’t have advertised her. Had you listened to my counsel, we wouldn’t even be in this position.”
“Your counsel? Since when have I ever required counsel from you?”
“I’m reminded,” Lord Dalry said. “During my absence, was there a correspondence from Burns?”
“No,” my father replied, “but Palmer received quite an earful from Lord Auckland.” I stepped up to the threshold just as my father reached for his wineglass. A full course was already set and on the table. “I’m anxious to glean his thoughts about Dost Mohammed; the last I heard—”
“Ah, Miss Pierson!” Lord Dalry rose with a smile.
My father visibly started to see me before he muttered a low oath. He removed the napkin from his lap and stood. “Daughter?” His tone was stern as he avoided eye contact. “Is there something you require?”
I lost mastery over my feet and paused in the doorway. Opposite me, on the wall, a snowy-haired version of Lady Josephine watched me with an arch smile. I fastened my eyes on her portrait, envisioning that if she were alive, she would rise to greet me, holding out her arms in welcome, the emeralds glinting in her cottony hair.
Lord Dalry was at my side before I regained enough sense to retreat. “I’m delighted you decided to join me. Come, sit with me. We’ll leave politics to your father and Forrester.”
My father’s mouth twitched with anger as he retook his seat. “Isaac, you know I do not tolerate tardiness in my house.”
“Well, sir, it is rather hard to make a timely entrance when you’re uncertain you’re invited to the event.” In a fluid movement, Lord Dalry gathered me with one arm and moved me to the table. With his eyes, he indicated that I should follow his lead.
I couldn’t help but glance nervously at my father.
One finger pressed deep into his cheek as he frowned. “The next meal, you will be on time or you will not join us. Is that understood?”
Whereas other people might have felt resentment, I only felt hurt. My face burned with humiliation as I took a seat.
“Young ladies do not turn scarlet at the table, either.” My father waved for more wine.
“Ah, then someone should tell Miss Anna Knight,” Lord Dalry said with a soft laugh, lowering himself into the seat next to me. “She has a dreadful habit of becoming tongue-tied and flustered during every dinner we’ve attended. Have you not noticed it?”
My father’s bottom lip curled out. “With an aunt as prestigious as hers, she can better afford nervous fits.”
Lord Dalry’s eyebrows rose. “I assure you, your own prestige quite matches Miss Knight’s aunt’s. Therefore, we can conclude that if your daughter blushes, it will be overlooked.”
“I highly doubt your daughter has control over her color,” Mr. Forrester said with a sneer. “All it takes is a certain unnamed gentleman whispering in her ear, and within a blink, she’s red all over.”
My stomach tightened with panic. I started to push away from the table but Lord Dalry touched my forearm, stopping me.
“I’ll ask you not to spy on Miss Pierson and me.” His voice contained a note I’d not heard before. It was inflexible, worse than my father’s temper, and yet somehow calm. He shifted in his seat to view my father. “Sir, please accept my deepest apology. While I might have stolen a moment in private with your daughter earlier, I can assure you, I said nothing unseemly.”
It took a moment for me to realize that Lord Dalry had spoken thus for the sake of the butler and footmen watching from the sideboard. My father, however, seemed unable to recover from the allusion to Mr. Macy. His face flushed as if he had suffered an apoplexy.
“The next course, if you please.” Lord Dalry addressed Eaton, making a motion to clear away the untouched plates. “Send Pierrick our assurances it was not the hare. Tell him the start of our dinner was delayed, nothing more.”
“Yes, sir.” Eaton bowed and nodded for James and William to step forward and clear the fricasseed rabbit.
Mr. Forrester garnered a few shelled walnuts from the bowl, meeting me with his challenging gaze. “It’s interesting how our Miss Pierson always shows up late for dinner. I seem to have memory of her arriving shamelessly late to another dinner, scarlet from head to toe. But of course, as our acquaintance has been short, I must be recalling nothing more than a dream.”
A vein rose across my father’s brow.
Tingles of heat ran up and down my neck and face as I glanced at the expressionless footmen.
“Odd that you’re dreaming about Miss Pierson.” Lord Dalry’s voice held disgust. “I’ll have to ask you to refrain from mentioning them as well.”
The twitching of Mr. Forrester’s mouth was the only indicator he’d been offended.
“Sir.” Lord Dalry faced my father. “I wasn’t going to bring this up during dinner, but I feel compelled to now. The staff is rather disturbed by Mr. Forrester’s alarming fascination with your daughter. They do not like his method of courting, nor do I.”
Mr. Forrester nearly choked before he spewed a piece of walnut onto the table. Wiping his mouth, he glared at Lord Dalry.
“Naturally, at first I dismissed it as nothing more than a rumor.” Lord Dalry strummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “But then I learned he’s been spotted rifling through her bedchamber. Mrs. Coleman informed me that he comes to her nightly and demands to know what your daughter did that day. Another servant informed me Mr. Forrester is up all hours of the night pressing his ear against her chamber door.”
My father pinched the bridge of his nose, lowering his chin.
“Most disturbing, however,” Lord Dalry continued, “is the report that he’s peeped through her keyhole.” Lord Dalry held up one finger, telling Mr. Forrester to wait, when the man gave a threatening glare. “Upon further investigation, two of the maids confessed that he’s paid them to enter her bedchamber and check on her while she slept. Is that not so, James?”
The footman kept his eyes on the dishes as he cleared them. “Yes, sir.” Then he quickly added, “’Tis hardly the half of it.”
“To be frank.” Lord Dalry still addressed my father but shifted his gaze to Mr. Forrester. “I find your guest’s preoccupation with her repulsive.”
“Ha-ha, Isaac.” Mr. Forrester thumped the table, his face flushed with anger. “Very humorous.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Well, you ought to be. You’re playing the role of the fool. Can’t you see what she’s doing? Dividing us?”
“Eaton.” The heavy voice of my father fell upon us with authority. “You’re dismissed. Take James and William with you. We’ll ring when ready for the next course.”
“Yes, sir.” Eaton’s expression remained dry as he did an about-face.
Not a fork slid nor a glass clinked as they crossed the chamber and left, shutting the door behind them. With the staff gone, my father leaned back in his chair and lapsed into a silence that we dared not break. Little by little, his face returned to a normal color.
“Isaac,” he said first, lowering his hand.
“Sir, he’s forcing my hand.”
“You have no idea the fire you’re playing with, Isaac.” Mr. Forrester yanked his napkin from his lap and rose. “You’ve just destroyed my ability to keep her in check, destroyed my credibility with the staff here—”
“What do you think you’ve done to hers?” Lord Dalry also rose, but he appeared calm and his voice stayed level. “Did you think I would sit by quietly while you openly attacked her?”
“Enough!” My father’s bellow roared through the room, causing me to cover my ears. “Not one mor
e word from either of you!”
“Oh no!” Mr. Forrester shook his head, jabbing his finger into the table. “Oh no, oh no! We’ve not even begun this discussion. If I don’t disillusion Isaac right now as to what she is, what she’s capable of, he’ll be her next victim. I’m nowhere near finished speaking.”
“Oh yes, you are.” My father’s voice rumbled like thunder in the distance, promising a great and terrible storm. “You’re both going to cease this minute and sit down and eat dinner like civilized people. Robert, if ever I catch you at her bedchamber door, I’ll personally drive you with a whip from my house. And, Isaac.” My father allowed the full wrath of his glare to fall on Lord Dalry. “This is not how I raised you. This is not acceptable behavior. Robert is a guest at my table, whether you approve or not.” He braced his hands on the table and leaned forward. His voice came out in a growl. “Need I remind the two of you how important this alliance is?”
Lord Dalry’s eyes communicated his ire at Mr. Forrester before he directed his gaze toward me as if to see how I fared.
I had grown up in a house of conflict, one where insults and harsh words were flung like cabers in Highland games. Reacting only exacerbated the conflict; waiting was always the wisest choice. Besides, I knew their emotions were so heated that nothing I said would be heard regardless. When tempers flare, people are always far more interested in expressing their hurt than in seeking solutions. It was far better to stay out of the fray and listen. I planned to sift through the accusations later and weigh them, one by one, to determine whether they were statements made in anger or something I needed to beware of. Thus, for most of the argument, I simply folded my arms over my stomach and averted my gaze.
When Lord Dalry questioned me with his look, however, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t make sense of my response.
“Isaac, Robert.” My father’s voice was nearer to my seat, and I realized he’d risen. “Both of you to the library. Julia, have a tray sent to your bedchamber if you’re still hungry.”
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