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Authors: Jessica Dotta

Tags: #FICTION / Romance / Historical / General, #FICTION / Christian / Historical

Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (10 page)

BOOK: Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege)
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“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 more 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.”

I jumped in my seat as my father placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. Lord Dalry crossed his arms, studying me as if taking note that I startled when touched. Between his evaluation and my father’s unexpected gesture, I felt unable to collect myself.

“Sir, may I have a private word with your daughter first?”

“Isaac!”

“One moment. Please.”

My father must have answered with a nod and then motioned to Mr. Forrester, for they marched from the chamber. Not certain what Lord Dalry wanted, I fastened my gaze on the heavy wine goblet before me, refusing to look at him. He, however, laid his forearm over the table and leaned into my view.

“Listen,” he said, his tone soft. “Mr. Forrester will likely leave for London tonight, as your father now sees benefit in having him gone. I’m not certain I shall be back in time for breakfast, but I’ll try. I promised my mother and sister they’d have time with me during the off-season. I gave my word months ago, and I’ve been remiss in that promise twice. This time of year, your father takes his breakfast at eight. Be certain you are timely.”

I cocked my head. “Why are you telling me this?”

He gave a sad smile, then leaned back in his chair and viewed the dining chamber with different eyes. His mouth pursed as if
he’d tasted a sour wine. When he spoke, I barely caught his next words. “Trust me, I know better than you realize what you’re undergoing. It becomes easier from here.”

Then, like a true member of the gentry, unaffected by the ripples of change, he rose, bowed, and left.

Sometime after midnight, the sound of a horse’s whinny woke me. I opened my eyes to a dimly lit room. A feeling of calm had replaced the heaviness I’d taken to bed. I rubbed my eyes, trying to account for the change. Gradually I became aware that firelight burnished the walls, warming the chamber. I sank back into the pillow, noting that Mrs. Coleman must be happy for the recovery of her staff.

BOOK: Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege)
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