Taking care to keep all expression from my face, I adjusted my posture. Too many times during the past week, she’d slapped the back of my hand with a ruler just because I’d given her unladylike looks.
“Pretend I just said something witty.” Lady Beatrice returned to her work, squinting to see in the gloom. “Laugh.”
I drew a deep breath, hating this exercise. I’d yet to laugh in a fashion that met her approval. It was always too forced, too vulgar, or not airy enough.
When no laugh issued forth, Lady Beatrice paused, thread in air, thimble glinting in the lamplight. Her eyes hardened. “A peer who outranks you just said something witty. Now laugh.”
The jangle of a bell caught both of us by surprise. She scowled, moving her embroidery to her basket. “Go take that chair. Do not speak unless I indicate my permission. Let’s hope my guest is in no clever mood tonight.”
Grateful for the respite, I took the chair, adjusted my skirts, then retrieved my own embroidery reserved for such an emergency. With a huff, I viewed the dismal room imprisoned within its red-striped papered walls and cerise curtains before jabbing my needle in and out of the linen. At least here was one area of my life her ladyship could not fault, though she tried. Mama had spent hours of her day embroidering and had taught me well.
The door opened and her butler, Taggart, stepped inside. “Lord Isaac Dalry.”
Astonished, I looked up. Lord Dalry wasn’t due back for nearly a week. Nevertheless, he strode through the door, dressed in a full riding cape and spurs. Half-hidden by the gloom, his unshaven face highlighted his unique chin, strangely making him look wilder. He bowed and removed his hat, revealing damp hair.
His eyes traveled in my direction. I couldn’t help but question him with a look, despite my intentions to keep him distant.
He did not linger on me. Instead he turned toward Lady Beatrice, looking ready to tear down the house brick by brick.
“Grandmamma, Lord Pierson made it perfectly clear she was to be returned by teatime. Why is Miss Pierson still here?”
Lady Beatrice waited until she finished her knot. The creases in her face multiplied. “Honestly, Isaac. How do you expect me to teach that piece of work manners when you discard them yourself? How dare you barge into my drawing room making demands?” Her mouth twisted as she snipped thread. “It’s not my fault the girl is nothing short of stupid. I’ve spent hours coaching her, yet she cannot manage even simple tasks.”
“Then allow me to relieve you of her presence.” In three steps Lord Dalry was at my side, lifting me from my seat.
I rose, astounded at the intensity of his grip, and dropped my sewing. It hit the floor.
“I want a word with Eramus before I leave too.” Lord Dalry’s angry gaze darted about the room as though he expected someone to emerge from the shadows. He slapped his hat against his leg. “Now!”
“Eramus?” Lady Beatrice’s hands fell to her lap. “Isaac, of all things. Have you lost your wits along with your manners? His visit is not scheduled until Christmas. You know that.”
Lord Dalry cut a quick look about the room. Barely visible, his Adam’s apple bobbed above his cravat before his face reddened. He closed his eyes, whether from relief or embarrassment or both, I could not tell. “By your leave, then,” was all he said, and he ushered me toward the hall.
“Where’s Kate?” Lord Dalry shook free of his cape, then held out his hands for mine.
“Sir?” Kinsley asked.
“Kate! My sister, Kate.” Lord Dalry swept a riled gaze about the hall. “Where is she hiding?”
“Your sister, sir?” With a confused glance, Kinsley looked to me. “Miss Josephine, don’t tell me you approve of this rapscallion?”
A look of surprise came over Lord Dalry, yet before he could respond, my father opened the library door. Scents of cigars drifted into the main hall.
He removed the cigar from his mouth. “Isaac, why the devil are you here? You’re supposed to be at Crawl—” His eyes narrowed. “Why is Julia with you?”
Two gentlemen appeared on either side of my father. Their eyes laughed as they looked over Isaac’s rumpled appearance and my blushing form. Behind my father’s back, they seemed to congratulate themselves with their eyes, before the tallest one cast Isaac a smug, suggestive look.
I bit my lower lip, wishing myself far from them.
“I daresay, Dalry looks equally surprised to find you home, sir,” the tall one said, then smiled a crooked grin at Lord Dalry. “Eh, old boy?”
The other chuckled and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets.
Lord Dalry gave them a look that would have withered most and took my upper arm, moving me behind him, from view. “Where is Kate, sir? She wrote me that your daughter was in danger. I removed her from Lady Beatrice’s as a precaution.”
“Kate did what? What does she know of—?” Suddenly my father remembered the men behind him and turned. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He shut the door and then traversed to a private room.
Lord Dalry ushered me inside with him. “It has nothing to do with Macy, sir.”
Telltale red blotched my father’s neck. “Well, you’d best be prepared to tell me what merits direct disobedience.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing!” My father screamed the word, then lowered his tone, glancing in the direction of the library. “You dare to leave Crawlsley’s party when we’re in the middle of a crisis, for nothing?”
“There’s no crisis.” Lord Dalry stripped off his gloves and tossed them on a round table, evidently not caring that my father appeared on the verge of exploding. “Forrester had it all wrong. No one even possessed a pamphlet. But they all took merriment in the fact that I’d ridden two days to sway them to their own views. The trip was all for naught.”
“Go get dressed and join me, then.” My father’s nostrils flared as he considered me. “Julia, order tea. My guests have done nothing except make inquiries about you since their arrival. Tea cakes and small talk will cure their curiosity.”
Lord Dalry’s eyes widened. “Sir, your daughter is nowhere near ready for such—”
“Do not argue!” my father commanded, heading toward the door. “I’ve spent the last hour trying to talk politics with them; if their curiosity over meeting the sensational Emerald Heiress will make them more reasonable, we’re using it. Now go get ready.”
A silence fell over our room after he left. Lord Dalry rubbed his hand along his stubbled cheek. He cast a glance at the clock, at me, then tugged the bellpull three times, an indication he wanted one of the higher staff members.
A moment later, a breathless James appeared. Though I felt certain he was surprised at seeing Lord Dalry, he managed to keep a bored expression.
“Lord Pierson has ordered tea for his guests. Miss Pierson and I will join them, so there’ll be five. Send Pierrick my apology, but tell him to make it dazzle. If Kate returns home, make certain she does not know I have arrived. I want to catch her by surprise. I need to change, and quickly. If you can act as my valet within five minutes, then do so; otherwise send me anyone available.”
“Yes, sir.” James bowed and raced away.
“Come with me.” Lord Dalry cupped my elbow and lowered his voice. “We’ll settle with Kate later. Meantime, summon your lady’s maid and change. Remain in your room until you hear me go downstairs. As I lack proof, I have not yet voiced my suspicions, but neither will I risk having you alone with those two.”
My every muscle stiffened as I approached the drawing room. Strange how an hour ago I wanted to be free of Lady Beatrice, but now I wished myself back with her.
From within, male voices, all polite, all with perfect inflections, laughed. Had I not known that tension was steeped into this tea, I would have thought everyone to be sworn friends.
“Ah.” My father rose and extended his hand when I opened the door. “Here she is.”
The remaining gentlemen rose. China and silver clinked; linen napkins flutter
ed to the floor. With my father present, no one wore expression except Lord Dalry, who gave me one brief smile, then became a polished mask of good breeding.
“Julia,” my father said, “may I present to you Lord Alexander Kensington and Mr. Jonathan Billingsby.”
The tall one was Lord Alexander and the stout one Mr. Billingsby. They both dipped their heads.
“How do you do?” Billingsby asked.
“May I find your seat, Miss Pierson?” Lord Alexander pulled an armchair nearer the table, situating me between him and his friend.
My fingers twitched, but to hide my growing dismay, I started toward the chair. My father and Lord Dalry cut each other panic-stricken looks.
Was it because I’d not returned any greeting? “I meant to s-say, I am well.” My tongue felt twice its normal size, making it difficult to speak. I stopped halfway across the room and stepped on my overlong skirt. The sound of lace rending from the hem filled the space.
My father stared as though I had flounced into the room, flopped in a chair, and spoken with a thick brogue. Both of the gentlemen’s smiles drained.
“If you don’t mind . . .” Lord Dalry’s easygoing voice sounded behind me. “I would rather Miss Pierson remain with me.” He took my arm, and never had I been more thankful for him. “I fear our Miss Pierson becomes terribly shy around gentlemen—a fault of having been constantly surrounded by female companions at her school. Lord Pierson and I have been working with her to cure it.”
Somehow, I managed to find my way to the chair Lord Dalry directed me to and collapsed.
Ashen, my father took his seat, staring at me, horrified.
“May I inquire after the health of your sister?” Lord Dalry asked Lord Alexander, pouring tea. He pressed the hot cup into my hand. “I have every hope that Miss Pierson and Miss Kensington will form an attachment.”
“She is fine, thank you.” Lord Alexander did not return the desire for his sister to befriend me. Instead he fingered his teacup, his gaze flitting between Lord Dalry and me as though he was trying to decide which guise was true.
“And your father?” Lord Dalry sat back and looked at Billingsby. “When I left, a slight cold kept him from attending our club. Has he recovered?”
Billingsby nearly jumped when addressed but stopped eyeing me. “Yes, quite.”
“Miss Pierson, wait until you meet Billingsby senior.” Lord Dalry turned and spoke to me as though we were on the best footing. “He is exactly the type of person which delights you the most. Friendly and gruff rolled into one.”
I smiled, though it felt strained. I saw by Lord Dalry’s face that he wanted me to speak, but what on earth could he expect me to say with an opening like that? “How lovely! I always hoped to meet someone friendly yet gruff”?
“Perhaps your father will be so kind as to take tea with Miss Pierson and me tomorrow,” Lord Dalry said. “I think he would be the very type of person she should practice with. Your father always has the young ladies laughing within the first five minutes.”
Mr. Billingsby cast Lord Dalry a doubtful look. No one spoke. Beads of perspiration formed on my father’s forehead. My heart pounded so hard that the sound filled my ears. I was in over my head. This ruse would be a dismal failure. My father had just ruined his life. Macy would come and collect me. I turned to Lord Dalry, realizing he was the only person still trying, tears filling my eyes. Yet he had never looked so calm or collected.
“It’s all right,” he murmured, almost lovingly. “I quite prefer a wife who won’t barge into my men’s club.” He turned to Lord Alexander. “Do you remember last season when Mrs. Lowry stormed through the doors because she suspected Mr. Lowry was playing cards?”
Lord Alexander laughed, placing his hand over his stomach. “I should say I do. Lowry still won’t speak to me for laughing as hard as I did.”
Billingsby chuckled and selected another tart from the tray. “I think that was the highlight of last season, and to my complete advantage. He was staged to rob me of over a hundred sovereigns when his good lady showed.”
“Gentlemen.” My father roused himself from his stupor and rubbed his temple. “Surely you can find better topics to discuss in front of my daughter.”
Lord Alexander smiled directly at me, yet there was something rapacious about it. He considered me at leisure before saying, “Sir, I see the advantage in hiding your child from treasure seekers, and I congratulate you on an unspoiled daughter. It is rare to find such wealth attached to such meekness. I should be quite pleased for my sister to be introduced to her. Shall we make the arrangements?” He shifted his gaze to Lord Dalry. “Dalry, I will align myself with you during her first few public appearances to help ease her into society.”
“Thank you, but Miss Pierson shall not require your aid.”
Lord Alexander tapped his fingers, glaring at Lord Dalry, then smiled anew. “You’ve scarcely considered it; therefore my vanity demands you do not realize the value.” Lord Alexander selected a few dainties from the tray and passed the plate to me. “Even you have to admit she’s going to need familiar faces until she adjusts.”
Lord Dalry gave him a warning look, which no one could mistake.
“Perhaps you agree with me, sir.” Lord Alexander lifted a brow in my father’s direction. “My public support will only bolster confidence.”
A charged silence followed, during which my father appeared to be weighing his words. In the hallway, footsteps approached, accompanied by Kate’s cry. “Oh, Mrs. King, wait till I tell you what I heard today.”
A second later, she burst into the room, obliging the gentlemen to rise. She gasped, the hem of her skirt muddy. Wisps of red hair stuck up from where she’d presumably snatched off her bonnet. She gasped anew viewing her brother. “Isaac!”
“Gentlemen, my sister.” Lord Dalry stepped around me, making his way toward her. “Kate.”
“Oh, now, don’t be cross.” She picked up her skirt and tiptoed away from him, toward the party, tracking mud over the floor. “I never actually said that Eramus arrived at Lady Beatrice’s, so you can’t blame me that you came home. I only said—”
“Kate! Not another word.”
Mr. Billingsby guffawed and looked up from his teacup. “What! You mean to tell me that Dalry rode home because of the rumor about Lady Beatrice trying to attach Miss Pierson to that rotund nephew of hers?”
Lord Dalry gave Kate a look that demanded silence.
“I think we found the imminent danger that your daughter was in.” Lord Alexander grinned and sat back. “Isaac, I concur with you: it was absolutely necessary to remove Miss Pierson from Lady Beatrice’s immediately. I congratulate you on saving her from an unwanted wooing.”
Mr. Billingsby laughed and dunked a biscuit in his tea. “Were I you, Miss Pierson, I would feel my intelligence insulted.”
“Honestly, Isaac, don’t tell me you plan on playing the part of a jealous lover,” Lord Alexander said. “You’re going to have to grow accustomed to the thought that more than one person will be seeking Miss Pierson’s favor this season.”
“Well, it won’t make any difference,” Kate retorted, sidling toward me. “Isaac is already in love with Julia, and the marriage contract has been drawn. So there!”
“Kate!” Lord Dalry lunged at her, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her from the room.
Heat flamed my face as the gentlemen burst into hearty laughter. From the corner of my view I saw my father look to the ceiling as though suppressing his temper. I wanted to crawl into a cupboard and die of humiliation. Only there was nowhere to hide, so I fixed my gaze out the window.
“Gentlemen,” I heard my father say, “this tea is over.”
“Don’t be too hard on them, Roy.” The voice was Lord Alexander’s. Though he couldn’t have been any older than Lord Dalry, he addressed my father as an equal. As he passed, he placed his hand on the back of my chair, his fingers brushing against my bare shoulder. “I’ll write my sister and instruct her to make acqu
aintance with your daughter. I am most anxious for their attachment to begin.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure my daughter will be most pleased . . .” My father’s voice faded, as did the scuffling noise of the gentlemen’s departure.
I shifted in my chair, feeling too unworthy to even speak.
A moment later, my father returned to the chamber. I tensed, waiting for his censure, but instead he took measure of me and softened before he sank into his chair. There he leaned his head back and pinched his nose.
“It wasn’t all that bad, sir,” Lord Dalry offered as he entered and took a seat.
My father opened one eye and stared as if to ask if he’d even been present. “What was that between you and Lord Alexander? That was a challenge if I ever saw one! Must you continually provoke him? If we lose his support, we lose every one of his cronies, and we can’t afford it.”
I listened, stunned that my father hadn’t yet scolded me.
“I didn’t provoke him,” Lord Dalry said. “He provoked me. You saw it yourself. But I can’t see why you’re bothered. You know him and a challenge. If anything, now he’s going to work hard at winning your favor. I wager he’ll back your every argument for the next six months.”
To my surprise, my father chuckled. “There’s always a proverbial sliver lining with you, son. Is there not?” He lifted his head with a sigh and noted that I stared at him, before giving me a nod. “It’s all right; you did your best, which is all anyone can ask. Thankfully, I’ve seen you navigate better. No repeat performance of tonight. Agreed?”
I felt as though I had swallowed my tongue but managed, “Yes, sir.”
I finally looked to Lord Dalry for explanation. He, however, stared blankly at the wall, looking weary and deep in thought. He didn’t seem to think my father was acting radically different. Was it possible that this was how my father acted when not stressed?
“Isaac, I’m sorry,” my father said, returning his head to the back of the chair, “but after that display, Kate is returning home. I know you wanted to finally spend time with her, but she’s a liability at this stage. Write your mother and arrange it.”
Mark of Distinction Page 17
