Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) (23 page)

“What on earth,” I finally managed.

Kate plopped onto a settee, knocking a tapestry pillow to the floor. “Last night before he left, Isaac instructed the staff to have this prepared today. You should have seen it. It took hours! Your father’s chef was here, screaming in French, calling everyone
imbéciles
, demanding this tea be perfect because it’s part of Isaac’s courtship.”

From my side vision I saw the brown of James’s eyes flick in my direction.

Tightness gathered in my chest. To refuse to laud the effort behind this tea would hurt the staff, yet neither could I afford to encourage Lord Dalry.

Thankfully, before I could speak, Kate turned toward me with shining eyes. “Shall I serve?”

I nodded, then turned to James. “I know you’ve had a long day too. Please extend my thanks to the staff for this lovely surprise. I am beyond amazement.”

James’s disappointment was evident as he bowed and ducked from the room.

While Kate warmed the pot, I took the settee across from her, trying to pinpoint the source of James’s disappointment. Did it mean the staff was caught up in the possibility of a love story happening beneath their roof? This entire situation was growing more ludicrous by the moment.

The air was redolent with the scent of lavender as Kate poured.

“Isaac told James he wished you to try this tea.” Kate licked a dollop of plum jam from her finger, then pointed to my teapot. “James asked your father for permission, and your father told him to charge it to the household account.”

I frowned. “Your brother wanted me to drink this blend of tea? Why?”

Kate radiated with too much happiness to notice the sharpness of my tone or my question. “When your father left this morning, James pulled on his cape and left too. He came back from Exchange Alley not just with this blend but with this teapot too!” She leaned over the table, her eyes shining with delight. “It caused the most horrific row. The housekeeper said he had no business spending the master’s money without his say-so. That’s when Miss Moray joined in and said
she
wouldn’t go out in the rain and risk her position on the likes of you—”

I struggled to maintain a composed expression, lest Kate leave out a detail. “She dared to say that in front of you?”

Kate’s curls danced as she gave her tinkling laugh. “No, I was hiding in Isaac’s snuggery. You can hear all sorts of servants’ talk if you crouch near the door.”

I gave her a disapproving look, which she discarded.

“James insisted that this teapot be used today. Can you imagine such audacity? Mama would be shocked and advise Isaac not to be so free with him, but I like James.”

I stared at the yellow teapot with hand-painted roses. Poor James. No wonder he’d waited. And I hadn’t so much as glanced at it.

“The teapot cost over thirty pounds! Mrs. King says Lord Pierson is going to be fit to be tied, but James threatened to expose all the secrets he knew about them if anyone tattles before he can give Isaac the bill to add to his monthly expenses.”

Kate had dumped so much information on me, I scarcely knew which piece to consider first. I touched the teapot, and despite myself, my spirits lifted. A tiny piece of me finally
existed here. There was no portrait of me amongst the hundreds of ancestors. I had not chosen the color of my room, the materials for my dresses, the style of my hair, nor any other of myriad details, but I had a teapot.

I turned it so that I could watch steam pipe from the spout.

No, I realized, James and Lord Dalry had a teapot. And a rather girlish one at that.

I sank against the pillow and focused on the rings of lights that rippled along the ceiling from the candles as the frightening realization overcame me of how quickly one could become lost in this sphere. I had nearly delighted over a teapot, forgetting that my entire life had been snatched from me.

All at once, I missed Edward so much I grew homesick. He would never do this to me. He would never, under any circumstances, take away my freedom, my choices.

A vision of Am Meer with its smoking chimneys and annoying chickens clucking beneath my bedchamber window rose in memory. There one didn’t pass hours in silence. One could always hear Mrs. Windham or the clack of Elizabeth’s knitting needles. There the rooms weren’t so huge that they always felt freezing no matter how the fire blazed. Who wanted a tea such as this when the alternative was walking side by side with Edward beneath billowing clouds in a sparkling-sapphire sky?

Tears I hadn’t had time to cry welled, but I took deep breaths to abate them. I needed to keep my head. To remain steady, I faced Kate.

The picture she created would have warmed even Lady Beatrice’s heart. Kate held her saucer exactly twelve inches from her chin and kept her head perfectly straight.

What if I never found a way to escape this? I thought. What if Lord Dalry was right? There was only duty now. The dainty china cup in my hand suddenly felt too heavy to lift.

I eyed the august tea that testified to my father’s distinction,
wondering why everyone sought so hard for wealth, fame, position, and power. It was all a trap.

“Julia?” Kate’s use of my name startled me. “Are you listening?”

“Forgive me.” I retrieved my cup. “You were saying?”

“May I go with you to Lady Beatrice’s tomorrow?”

I had to struggle to shift my thoughts. “I don’t think your brother would allow it.”

“Isaac?” Her nose wrinkled like a hare’s. “What has he to do with it?”

“I don’t know, but it seemed to me he feared something at her house. Have you any idea what he meant?”

Kate’s brow crumpled in thought; then all at once horror lit her face. “Oh!” She touched her lips. “You don’t suppose . . . ?”

“Suppose what?”

She set her cup down and placed her hands over her stomach. With gravity she said, “Eramus Calvin.”

I angled my head, recalling the name from the newspaper article. “Her ladyship’s nephew? What about him?”

There was a long silence, and then Kate turned toward me. “I overheard Isaac tell Mama one night. She cried, and he kept saying he shouldn’t have told her.”

“What did he say?”

Kate shook her head. “When Isaac found out I heard . . . If I told you what I learned, he would never trust me again.” She shook her head. “Isaac never talks about his past to anyone except Mama, not even Ben.”

“Ben?” I repeated softly. If I couldn’t solve one mystery, perhaps I could solve another.

Kate’s look was solemn. “Our missing brother. He disappeared one night, trying to help Mr. Forrester keep someone safe from a dangerous man.”

I sat, too stunned to speak, though my gaze swept to the portrait of my grandmother that occupied the chamber. In this
painting, she looked over her shoulder as her loosed black hair cascaded down her back. She wore her ever-present coy smile.

“Your brother disappeared helping Forrester?” I heard my voice as if through a fog. “How long ago was that?”

“Three years ago.”

I felt as if my stays had been tightened to the point of my being unable to breathe. For I suspected the dangerous man was Mr. Macy. And if my father and these men had tangled with him before, yet he still roamed free, then it was highly possible my current situation would not soon be over.

KEEPING MY CHIN LIFTED and the book atop my head balanced, I turned in a slow, refined manner and glanced out the rain-speckled window, where I caught sight of a horse that had not been there the moment before. Behind it, fog curled over murky carriage tracks crisscrossing the cobblestone. The far streetlamps appeared as little more than glowing orbs, lost amidst swirling mists.

“A lady of good breeding does not shift her eyes. Keep them fixed straight ahead.” Lady Beatrice tugged fiercely on her thread, puckering her embroidery, then allowed her work to fall to her lap. “Come, come. Now is not the time to dawdle. We’ve scarcely a fortnight and you cannot even walk right. Start anew. Step, pause. Step, pause. Now with a grand sweep, turn. No, not like that; your shoulders are slouched. You look positively common.”

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.