Lord Dalry looked ready to disobey the order, but before he could, a door slammed, followed by a clattering noise. Hard-soled shoes clunked on the floor in the hall. Someone must have been shoved or fallen, for something thumped against the wall, causing the dishes stacked on the sideboard to rattle.
“James, what on earth?” My father lowered the Gazette.
“I’ll go check, sir.” James hastened toward the door, but it swung open and a disheveled Mr. Forrester stormed into the room.
“Never mind, James.” My father picked up his coffee and resumed reading his paper. “I think we have found the cause of our disturbance.”
Mr. Forrester sneered at me, loosening his drooping cravat. “You would still be here.”
Without so much as a flicker of his eye, my father continued to read. “As much as I value your theatrics, Robert, would you mind telling me why you are disturbing my breakfast?”
Mr. Forrester produced a worn copy of the Times, which had been tucked beneath his arm. He thumped it on the table. “Is this some sort of a sick challenge to Macy, flaunting your worth?”
“Do not speak that name in my house.” Anger finally flushed my father’s voice, and he sat forward, folding his paper in half.
Mr. Forrester’s expression grew savage as he turned to view me. “What, are we worried about the Jezebel hearing me? She—”
“Now, see here.” Lord Dalry rose, his eyes blazing.
Before Lord Dalry could take a step, my father reached forward and grabbed his sleeve. “Honestly, Robert. Isn’t there some other household you can go and insult this morning? We’ve enough headaches with her presentation in three weeks.”
Mr. Forrester unclasped his cape and, with a snort, flung it on the floor in a sodden heap. “Do you have any idea how widespread this problem has now become? Everyone is inquiring for more news of the Emerald Heiress, and I mean everyone. Even the beggars on the street are clamoring for news of her. What were you thinking, announcing your wealth like that?”
“I didn’t.” My father gave Lord Dalry’s sleeve a fierce tug and silently demanded that he retake his seat, but was ignored. “That was the work of Lady Beatrice.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Mr. Forrester pulled a side chair from near the buffet and wedged it between Kate and Lord Dalry. He grabbed a yeast roll from the table, tore it, and shoved one half in his mouth as he flopped into a seat. “You’ve gambled more than you can handle. You’ve no choice but to either succeed or drown. You need me to carry her story and you know it.”
“Need you?” My father placed his folded paper to the side of his plate and crossed his arms. “So now we come to the real reason for your visit. Just how many papers have sold because of her story?”
“That has nothing to do with it.” Mr. Forrester made a face of disgust as he swallowed. “I’m willing to help you for the sake of friendship.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Mr. Forrester shoved the rest of the roll into his mouth, then, with the serving fork, dug through the pork cutlets as if considering one. “The Times sold out by noon and had to run a second printing.”
My father closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes, he glared at Mr. Forrester as if blaming him. “So much for wanting no part in this, heh?”
“Are you really going to sit there and insult me?” Mr. Forrester looked up. “As I see it, you have a choice: either allow the other papers to start poking around for more information, or give me the exclusive and they’ll be forced to print what I do just to keep up with the demand. Within a month, I’ll make her the darling of London, making it harder for him to reclaim her.” Mr. Forrester ground his teeth as he looked toward me. “Speaking of which, we’ll also need to do whatever it takes to keep her under lock and key.” Lifting a dripping cutlet from the platter, he scanned the table for a plate to place it on. Dark-brown spots stained the tablecloth.
Lord Dalry shoved his plate to Mr. Forrester, eyeing him with aversion.
Mr. Forrester ignored him and shook his cutlet free, then made good use of my father’s thought-filled silence by stabbing a forkful of Lord Dalry’s breakfast as a sampling.
Silently, I prayed my father would refuse Mr. Forrester. But heaviness settled over my heart as I turned my gaze to the windows, for I knew my father wouldn’t remain silent this long unless he was going to accept Mr. Forrester’s offer. A thin mist wrapped the street in a chill. This entire situation had gone far beyond what I ever imagined when I sought sanctuary.
“All right,” my father finally said, slowly leaning forward. “You have the exclusive, but only if Isaac becomes a household name alongside her. I want his name drummed into every article. Her protector. Her hero. Her ever-faithful guardian. I don’t care how you do it, but make Isaac look like he walked straight out of Camelot in this story.”
“No.” Mr. Forrester’s fork clanked on his plate as he threw it down. “Absolutely not!”
“Then you may leave my house, and while you’re out, ask the Times to pay me a visit. I’m sure they’ll be more than willing to accommodate.”
Mr. Forrester stood, palms pressed against the table as he leaned toward Lord Dalry. “You don’t have to do this, Isaac. You know that you have my full support in anything else. I’d move mountains to influence for you, but do not tie yourself to this jade. It will be the death of you. This goes far beyond what Roy should and can ask of you. She’s a—”
“Sir.” Lord Dalry looked expressionless, but his deadly tone commanded respect. “You would do well to remember the position this lady holds in my life.”
I likewise stood and placed my napkin on the table, ready to leave. Before I could shove my chair out of the way, warm, strong fingers engulfed my left hand. I turned my gaze, surprised to find it was my father.
For the first time since we met, kindness filled his eyes. With a gentle nod, he directed me to retake my seat, to ignore Forrester, to trust him to handle this situation.
Across the table, a ghost of a smile played over Lord Dalry’s mouth as he gave my father an almost-imperceptible nod.
My heart pounded as I wondered whether he was coaching my father too. Part of me wanted to reject my father’s touch, for if Dalry suggested it, then it wasn’t my father’s true emotion, but something fabricated. Yet it was the first scrap of relationship I’d been fed from my father’s hand, and even if it wasn’t true, did I really want to discourage future attempts?
Barely able to keep tears of disappointment from my eyes, I retook my seat.
Who could have foreseen that in order for either of us to ever be whole again, our lives would need to be broken? And who but a master hand could have guided us safely along such a path?
My father swallowed twice after I took my seat, perhaps not certain what to do next. Keeping my hand firmly in his, he returned to Mr. Forrester. “Well? You heard Isaac. Are you for us or against us?”
A dampened Mr. Forrester answered, plopping back into his seat and retrieving his fork. “I’ll do it. But she’s duping you, Roy, and you’re all falling prey to her manipulations.”
My father stood and pulled out my chair. Strength coursed through his arm as he helped me stand. Drawing me close, he placed an arm around me and kissed my forehead. For the barest of seconds, my desire to feel cared for rendered me nearly useless. There was strength here, a barrier that not even Macy could break through. But I steeled my heart against full acceptance. He’d already wounded me too often. And besides, he did not own my ultimate allegiance. Only Edward did.
“Isaac, take my daughter.” Clutching my elbow in an unrelenting grip, my father moved me toward Lord Dalry as if wishing to transfer my attempt to cling to safety.
“Surely there are some invitations she could work on. Forrester and I have matters to discuss.”
Lord Dalry took my arm with a gentleness that could have been a caress. “Sir, if I may request it, I think she should go to Lady Beatrice’s.”
My father
’s jawline tightened. “For the last time, Isaac, no.”
About the hour when the sun fell in rich, gold slants throughout the west side of the house, my father’s angry voice tore me from the heavy pages of the book I’d been examining.
Outside, a thrush flitted on a nearby branch and chirped. I closed the book, feeling venturesome enough to take a peek.
“You have no understanding of the man.” My father’s voice was harsh as I cracked open the door. “It’s not safe to allow her outside the house.”
“You have to trust her,” Lord Dalry said.
My father attempted a laugh, but it was full of anguish. “It’s not her that I don’t trust.” He rubbed his hand over his retreating hairline. “While I fear she’ll embarrass herself—we both know she will—I believe her sincere about playing her part. It’s him. You don’t understand, Isaac. It’s as though he can crawl through keyholes or emerge from the shadows at will. I know it in my very marrow; he’s just waiting for me to allow her to step outdoors.”
“I gave my word that she’d be there tomorrow.”
“You shouldn’t have, Isaac. It was rash of you to go and see her. I’m not allowing it. My daughter is not setting foot outdoors.”
“What has changed since the morning you promised Lady Beatrice could have her throughout the week? You told her she could shape your daughter. You’re going to lose Lady Beatrice’s support. I’ve been working with Julia, sir, but she needs a woman’s hand. It is evident that no one has taken pains to teach her. There’s only so much I can do.”
My father huffed and looked at his feet. “Give me time.”
I drew a deep breath, wanting neither to be trained by Lady Beatrice nor to remain here.
“I gave my word, sir. Please, do not make me a liar.”
“You only gave your word to force me, Isaac. Why shouldn’t I make you eat that promise?”
“Why do you think you can wait, sir? Lady Beatrice has already announced her. There’s so little time to prepare. Besides, I can’t court someone who’s not even out.”
My father gave him a sour look. “This isn’t a joking matter.”
“Am I laughing?”
“All right.” My father straightened and brushed off his sleeves. “You will follow the carriage to her house and back with my revolver.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“It’s the only way I’ll allow it.”
Lord Dalry threw his hands in the air. “I don’t even know what Macy looks like.”
“You’d feel his evil before he was within a hundred feet of you.”
“Sir, you’re sounding as paranoid as Forrester. Your revolver?”
“She’s not leaving this house unless I know you’re armed and protecting her.”
I hugged my book against my stomach, disliking the reminder of Macy’s long reach and recalling that someone here worked for him and I still hadn’t a clue who.
“Do you know how ludicrous you sound?”
“Isaac, this is the last time I’m offering this.”
“All right, I’ll do it, then, but this is absolutely silly.”
“You’ve gotten your way. Now leave me in peace.” My father turned to walk away, and I flew back to the couch.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Lord Dalry’s finger traced the sentences in his book. As I sipped my tea, I wondered how he managed to look so mild when I knew in less than an hour he’d be following my carriage with a revolver.
Kate half stood and fluffed her skirt.
“Kate, for the last time, sit down.” Lord Dalry didn’t even lift his eyes from the page. His voice, at least, sounded strained. “Look at Miss Pierson. Act like her.”
“I hate London.” Kate threw herself against the back of her chair. “Yesterday I spent the entire day doing nothing.”
I gave her a sympathetic smile. Who wouldn’t hate being here?
“There are plenty of books,” Lord Dalry said. “You brought your sewing. If you’re bored, it’s your own fault.”
Kate fiddled with the cross around her neck. “You promised that this morning you’d show me the neighborhood.”
“I promised no such thing. I said I hoped to. Something more important has come up.”
“What?” Kate stopped squirming in her chair.
Lord Dalry closed his book and set it on the table. “Kate, your manners are absolutely horrid. Sit and remain silent.”
The door opened and we all straightened, expecting my father. Instead, Lady Beatrice entered, followed by Kinsley. Lord Dalry and I rose.
“Come kiss your grandmother.” She stretched her skeletal fingers toward us.
I slowly realized she was speaking to me, not Lord Dalry. I obeyed and pressed my lips against her gaunt cheek. Kissing Mama’s corpse had felt similar. “Good morning, La—Grandmamma.”
Her eyes were depths of cold. She brushed me aside and went to Lord Dalry. “I know if Isaac says something will happen, it happens. So I’m here to retrieve my granddaughter for myself. How are you this morning?” She patted his cheek.
“Well, as always,” he said with a smile. “Allow me to find you a seat. We’ve not eaten breakfast yet. Lord Pierson will arrive in less than two minutes. Will you join us?”
“Seat me across from Lord Pierson, but tell the footman not to set my place.”
Though James was standing right there, Lord Dalry relayed the message as he placed her at the table. When my father stalked in, his mouth puckered in dislike before he bowed to Lady Beatrice.
“You’ve kept me waiting two days, Roy.” Her knuckles looked swollen as she gripped the top of her walking cane. “That’s hardly like you. You’ve never allowed Isaac to be late for one appointment. I hope you aren’t setting a different standard for your daughter.”
“I could not spare my daughter until today.” My father shook out his napkin. “James, set her place.”
A flick of Lady Beatrice’s finger told James to remain where he was. “I have no need to wait upon invitation in this house. Had I wanted to join you, I’d have done so.”
Sausage, kippers, tomatoes, eggs scrambled with ham, and marmalade rolls were placed before us. Juice, tea, and coffee were poured.
Lady Beatrice turned to me. “You may drink tea, but no coffee. No sugar. No milk.” She turned to James. “Tell Pierrick that Miss Pierson needs to have an egg poached and plain toast. Under no circumstances is she to have butter.”
“My daughter will eat what she likes and as much as she likes,” my father said. “Go on, Julia, dish anything you like.”
Lady Beatrice’s laugh was more like a cackle. “Not if I’m sponsoring her, Roy.”
They glared across the table at each other. My father yanked his napkin from his collar. “Then don’t spons—”
“Sir.” Lord Dalry placed a warning hand on my father’s arm.
Lady Beatrice smirked, making me wonder how long she’d waited to have power over my father. I wrinkled my brow, wondering anew what this household had been like beforehand. My father gnashed his teeth, looking ready to throw Lady Beatrice on the street, so I laid my hand over his.
“Papa, I’m not even hungry. Please.”
Lord Dalry’s head snapped in my direction. A smile played on his lips as his eyes shone.
I felt myself blush under his approval even as annoyance prickled through me.
My father turned toward me, and his face evidenced that I’d struck a raw chord. He gripped my hand and swallowed, taking several seconds before he spoke, and even then his voice was gruff with emotion. “Where are you taking her today?”
“She needs new clothing.” Lady Beatrice seemed almost pleased by the leverage my father’s emotions gave her. “I’ve made an appointment for a fitting with Quill’s. Perhaps you remember them? They made two of your wife’s favorite dresses, or at least they were before you threw them into the fire as punishment.” Lady Beatrice drummed her fingers on the table, making each click of her nails distinctive. “They’ll be makin
g all my granddaughter’s gowns. Then we’re going to milliners and accessory shops. I want her to have new shoes, stockings, undergarments.” She narrowed her eyes. “I fear this will cost you a small fortune, Roy, even if I have to have real jewels sewn into her clothing.”
My father surprised me by laughing. “Spend as much as you like. At least she’s more deserving than your daughter.”
What emotion is one to feel during such discussion? My heart soared that my father had openly stated I was deserving, yet lamented the pain that crossed Lady Beatrice’s face. All at once the borrowed clothing I’d existed in since my arrival felt stuffy and irritating.
“Please, may I come?” Kate asked in a squeaky voice, watching Lady Beatrice with awe.
Lady Beatrice turned her gaze to new prey. “Who are you?”
Kate stood and curtsied. “My name is Katherine Mary Jane Dalry.”
“Dalry?” Lady Beatrice turned toward Lord Dalry. “Your sister, I presume?”
“Yes, forgive me.” Lord Dalry acknowledged his lapse of manners with a nod. “My sister and Miss Pierson’s travelling companion.”
“Does your sister meet with your approval, Isaac?”
Lord Dalry frowned. “Her manners need improvement, but she’s a happy soul.”
Lady Beatrice twisted her mouth. “For your sake, then, I’ll take her.”
The poached egg and toast were placed before me, but I’d lost my appetite long ago; besides, my father had not yet released my hand, making it impossible to eat. He sat staring at Lady Beatrice as though trying to send a warning that he would not tolerate anything happening to me. It was selfish, but I felt pleased.
Eventually, he noticed my hand still in his and retrieved the Times.
“I expect her back at five.” My father’s voice echoed through the hall as he followed us. “Not one minute late!”
Lady Beatrice maintained a glib expression as Kinsley placed her cape about her shoulders. A sticky silence filled the air, during which I resisted the urge to wipe my damp hands over my skirt.
“I make no promises,” Lady Beatrice eventually said, sweeping her long skirt from her way. She fastened her gaze on me. “Come, London awaits.”
Mark of Distinction Page 14
