By the time we arrived at Auburn Manor, my hair was windblown and my already-wrinkled dress was smeared with rotted crab apples.
I glanced at Edward, wondering if he still thought this a good idea. Apparently he’d been waiting for some time for me to acknowledge him, rather than breaking into my thoughts.
“Let me present you,” he instructed as we marched up the steps. “Be forewarned, I’m going to disclose everything—our secret betrothal, Eastbourne, that I’ve broken the law.”
I nodded. This would be worse than the time Mrs. Windham found a spider crawling amongst her petticoats.
“If my father is very angry, I’ll remove you. Only promise to let me handle the speaking, even if he addresses you.”
I nodded again, wishing we were already in the future and this trial passed.
He pulled me down the hall and opened the second door on the left. “That’s odd. They’re usually here, unless . . .” He looked further down the hall. Keeping a firm grasp on my hand, he opened a door to a different parlor.
Lord and Lady Auburn looked up from their tea, their mouths parted in surprise. Across from them, Mr. Macy sat on a settee. He raised an eyebrow, looking at my hand firmly clasped in Edward’s. I dropped it.
Mr. Macy set down his teacup and gestured toward me. “Ah, here she is now. May I present my wife, Mrs. Chance Macy.”
Lord Auburn rose and glared at his son. “Edward, come with me to the library. Now.”
Edward placed an arm around my shoulder, pulling me to him. “No.”
Lady Auburn covered her mouth, slowly closing her eyes.
“Now, Edward.” Lord Auburn swung open the door.
Edward looked toward his mother. “Will you promise to remain with Julia until I return?”
“Go with your father, Edward,” she said, sounding weak, stirring from her seat.
Mr. Macy moved his gaze from me to Edward. The air pulsated with animosity.
“Do not leave this room,” Edward whispered to me. “I’ll fetch you the moment I finish.” He released me, and his retreating footsteps pounded down the hall.
Lady Auburn took my hand, but her eyes followed Edward with a look of alarm. “Come,” she said in a soft voice, pulling me toward Mr. Macy and gesturing for me to take my place next to him. “Your husband is an exceedingly understanding man. You have nothing to fear.”
I watched in fascinated horror as she bypassed Edward’s request, crossed the room, and left, shutting the door behind her.
I SANK INTO MY SEAT, staring at Mr. Macy. His tapered fingers reached into his brocade waistcoat and retrieved a gold cigar case. With the air of a chiding husband assessing his wife’s account books, he viewed my dress, over which I still wore Edward’s coat, while lighting a cheroot. He reclined, blowing long streams of blue smoke into the air, never removing his gaze from me.
After several long moments, I found it difficult to match his scrutiny. How, I wondered, could he continue to sit there and say nothing? In an attempt to appear unaffected, I gave him a withering stare.
The corners of his mouth tugged up as he lazily blew his next stream of smoke.
Strangely, my fear subsided and anger took its place. I raised my chin, meeting his gaze. He would learn I was not the same girl he’d seduced. His smile increased as he settled further back into the couch, waiting.
I slid one arm from Edward’s frock coat. “I believe it’s customary to offer me tea.”
“Of course, darling. How unforgivable of me.” He leaned over the silver service. With an elegance I could never hope to attain, he poured a cup. “I must beg you excuse me, but tea isn’t our usual fare. How does my wife take it?”
I laid Edward’s coat aside, my fingers quaking at having been called his wife. “With sugar.”
He presented my cup with an exaggerated bow. “Well, at least we are speaking again. Dare I hope you’ve passed through the unreasonable fear stage?”
Knowing my voice would betray my anxiety, I swallowed the brew, scorching my throat.
Mr. Macy crossed one leg over his knee and took another draw from his cigar before studying it. “Julia,” he pressed in a smooth, even voice, and then met my eye, “did I not request that you come to me personally if you heard disturbing reports regarding me?” He stabbed out his cigar. “Tell me what your guardian said. Ever since you spoke with him, something has severed your affections.”
“Nothing he said stands between us.”
“Is it because I hid the fact that he was your father?” Mr. Macy’s voice sounded soft and repentant.
I struggled to remain composed at the mention of the man, hating that a wound whose existence I still denied suddenly throbbed.
“I confess it was underhanded.” He reached over and picked a piece of meadow grass from my gown. “Now that you’ve met, perhaps you understand why I concealed his identity. Tell me, what did you make of him?”
Though I did my best, it was impossible to hide the hurt.
“He’s disclaimed you, hasn’t he?” Mr. Macy sat back with a snort of disgust. “Knowing Roy, I shouldn’t feel surprise. Though, I confess, my wrath is provoked that he left you at my mercy, especially when he only remembers me as the man from my past.”
I eyed him, amazed at his ability. It wasn’t coincidence, I realized, he’d turned the topic to my father. He’d found and exploited a trauma I’d only recently discovered myself.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“Sweetheart.” He shook his head. “We only have a few minutes, and you waste them on a question like that. If you are going to insist we play this game, then it’s essential you have better tactics. Try again.”
His statement twisted my emotions in a new direction. I stared, realizing he truly meant it. Then, angry, I gritted my teeth and decided to switch the tables on him. He’d used my father to throw me off balance, therefore I would use Mama to throw him off his.
“I believed Mr. Greenham when he said he killed my mother.”
“Well, if John says he did, he did.”
“He also said you took part in it.” My hands shook so badly the china cup slipped from its saucer and cracked on the floor. Tea spread out over the hardwood floor. I stared at his polished boots and cringed, waiting for his coming wrath over my accusation.
Mr. Macy picked up the broken cup and placed it on the saucer, which he removed from my hands and set aside. His fingers enfolded mine. “Julia, look me in the eye. I swear to you, I believed your guardian had killed her.”
Truth was plainly written across his features. His hands were warm. He didn’t blink or shift his eyes. If he was lying, then he believed himself.
Doubt chiselled at my resistance. Not knowing what to think, I looked up at the ceiling to hide the tears that welled.
He chuckled, removing a white handkerchief, and wiped my eyes. “I fear your maneuver didn’t work very well, dear heart. Instead of dismantling me, you appear to have dismantled yourself. Shall I let you have another go?”
I stared, knowing I was at the losing end of a game of tug-of-war. How was it possible to feel both panic and relief? “I think you are lying. Those horrible rumors in the paper prove it. How could you publish those things about me?”
He held his head at an angle, like a haggler in a marketplace weighing an offer. “Next time, darling, don’t say ‘I think’—it sounds weak. Outright accuse. It will pinion half of your opponents.” He crossed one foot over the other in a lazy motion. “As far as your accusation, has not my own name been smeared alongside yours? Do you think I enjoy playing the role of cuckold? It was Forrester’s paper that started the nonsense. All I did was advertise a reward. Which, if you consider it, was the best thing I could have done. Would you rather I’d acted like a scorned husband?”
“Forrester?”
“It appears he’s found his revenge on me after all.” Straightening, he withdrew his cigar case, which he tapped against the heel of his palm. “Now, before I begin my inquiries, have
you anything else to accuse me of, darling?”
I stared, not certain what to say. Talking to him was like trying to walk on the ocean. Every step, every word shifted. The fact that Mr. Forrester had published the scandal shattered the framework again. Every time I thought I understood something, it changed.
“No?” His voice hardened. “That’s good, because I have questions for you.” He set his gold case on the tea table. “I am only going to ask this once, so make no attempt to deceive me.”
I stiffened, waiting for him to question me about my improprieties with Edward.
“Why,” he asked, lacing his fingers together, “did you seek out Churchill?”
Sensing his humor was strange, I blinked, uncertain. Yet I felt compelled to answer him—to appease him, even. “We . . . we sought legal counsel.”
“Why—” his tone sent gooseflesh over me as he leaned forward—“Churchill?”
I swallowed the sour taste in my mouth.
“Just tell me the truth, dearest,” Mr. Macy said. “I swear my anger shall not touch you.”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth had dried. His eyes wore an intense light, and before I could determine the meaning of his fierceness, I tried to explain.
Once I started, however, it became impossible to stop the flow of words. I confessed all—going to Mr. Addams’s house, how we’d discussed our options, which one I had voted for, the blacksmith’s apprentice, and finally our discussion with Churchill.
At first, Mr. Macy listened with confusion, showing only surprise, and then a glint of humor when I told him I’d voted for Scotland.
For several seconds after I finished, the clock’s ticking filled the chamber.
“Is that all?” he asked, his voice stern.
“What else is there?”
He studied me, frowning. Then, like a mighty gale sweeping away the storm of anger, his eyes crinkled.
He laughed, but sympathy replaced his smile. “Did you truly vote for Scotland, darling?”
Heat rose through my face.
“Shall I call him out, then?” He laughed, rubbing his forehead. “It might make me the first man in history to duel someone for not running away with my wife. I fear it won’t reflect well on you, dear heart. People will wonder.”
The dizzying rate at which he changed topics was more than I could handle. Though all trace of his anger was gone, my stomach continued to cramp.
“All right, dearest, I can see you’re in no mood for banter, so I’ll cut straight to the point. We’re leaving this afternoon for London.”
I looked toward the door, wondering how much longer until Edward would return for me.
“I’m sorry, dearest. It wasn’t my intention to barge in on your little holiday for another week or so, but some rather pressing business has come up.”
“Business—” I forced myself to look back at him—“or blackmail?”
His expression never flickered. “If you insist on knowing, our marital problems have created a rather interesting consequence. I’ve been informed that a more disagreeable sort of person is seeking you. He believes he’s found my vulnerability and intends to use it.”
“Do you really think I’ll fall for that again?” I asked. “That I’m in danger and I need you to protect me?”
“Whether you believe me or not is of no consequence. You haven’t any say in the matter. I’m sorry, darling, but as a precaution, I’m removing you to her ladyship’s residence immediately until we can be ready to leave.”
I stared, refusing to comprehend. To me, the idea that he could collect me while I was inside Edward’s house was an impossibility. Then, with a start, I realized I had no recourse. Legally, I was this man’s property.
He rose and retrieved his riding whip, hat, and gloves.
“Sweetheart.” His voice chided as he approached. “You have nothing to fear. You’ve been perfectly safe this entire time. I’ve had one of my men keeping watch. I’ll never allow you to be in a situation over which I don’t have full control.”
I stared at him, harrowed at the idea that I might have been watched the entire time.
When he held out his hand, I did not take it.
“There’s nothing to fear, Julia.” His voice tranquillized. “When we wed, did you doubt I’d make a devoted husband?”
I fastened my gaze on the door that Edward had not yet come back through. “No.”
He gripped my arm and pulled me to my feet, leaving me no choice but to comply. “I am the same man you married. Besides—” he grinned—“after paying Adelia her two thousand pounds, I can’t run the risk of losing another five.”
Mr. Macy’s fingers pressed into my back as he ushered me into Lady Foxmore’s antechamber. He handed my wrap to the butler. “Inform her ladyship and Snyder of our arrival. My wife is fatigued and most likely famished—”
The sound of Lady Foxmore’s walking stick interrupted him. “Chance?” Ire tinted her voice. “What on earth do you think you’re doing, forbidding my servants to step foot off the property? I have errands I need—”
She moved the portiere out of her path. Her eyebrows elevated. “I thought you said you weren’t going to take possession of her yet. Has something happened? That’s hardly fair! I hope this means you’ve conceded your bet.”
Mr. Macy cast her an annoyed look as he threw off his cape. “I haven’t time. Julia and I are leaving as soon as possible. I desire time alone with her before we absent ourselves.” He turned to the butler. “Have a full tea prepared and brought to the library. Have one of my men run to fetch my wife’s trunk. Give him directions to Am Meer.” He looked at me and explained, “I had clothing waiting there for you, darling, as a precaution.”
I avoided looking directly at Lady Foxmore’s suggestive face as Mr. Macy led me to the library. Gloom coated the chamber upon our arrival. Mr. Macy strode to the window and opened moss-colored draperies. Weak light seeped through the dusk. He gestured with an out-turned palm for me to remain, then left.
Feeling at a loss, I sank into the settee and touched my face and neck, as if to ascertain I were in one piece. I swallowed, wondering where Edward was and what he was doing. Surely by now he’d at least located Henry.
I wiped my cold palms over the skirt of my dress, wondering if they’d know to seek me at her ladyship’s. When we’d left Auburn Manor, Mr. Macy hadn’t told anyone where we were headed.
The butler rolled a tea cart into the room, then set a round table. Mr. Macy returned as the last dish was placed.
“Send Snyder to me,” he instructed, waving the manservant from the room. Mr. Macy observed me for a few minutes, turning only when footsteps pounded down the hall.
A man with angular features appeared.
“Have you news?” Mr. Macy asked.
The man’s nod toward me questioned whether Mr. Macy wanted him to speak in my presence.
“She’s my wife. You may speak, provided you mind your tongue.”
The contempt left the man’s features, and he nodded apologetically as he held out two posts. “Rooke came while you were gone.”
“Remain on the grounds.” Mr. Macy snatched the letters from his hand and closed the door. Turning to me, he waved at the spread. “Go on, dearest, eat. I have business.” He glanced at his watch. “If we leave in the next two hours, we’ll reach my London house sometime after nightfall. We’ll not be stopping at an inn, so this will be your last meal of the day.”
I sat feeling as displaced as a rag doll that had been dunked in the laundry and wrung out, but not returned to her little mistress. I stared at the tea, but my stomach felt envenomed with panic, making it impossible to eat. I glanced at Mr. Macy.
He sat at the desk and inspected the letters for evidence of tampering before he broke the gold seal of the first one. Though I felt no appetite, I obediently poured tea while I studied my husband. This was no ordinary business that occupied his mind. Something terrible was afoot. My hands grew cold, and I turned from my speculation
s. It was best not to dwell upon it. I didn’t want to know more about Mr. Macy’s world. All I wanted to do was stay calm. It was only a matter of time until Henry or Edward arrived.
I stared at my tea, forcing myself to believe they would come. They simply had to. They wouldn’t leave me like this.
Mr. Macy crumpled the first letter and with gritted teeth hurled it into the cold grate. When he ripped open the next post, he stopped breathing.
He slid the note into his trouser pocket, went to the stocked trolley, and poured a brandy. Not following protocol, he took a slice of cold roast beef and wrapped a piping-hot roll around it. While he chewed, a hunted look spread over his features, and his glance kept returning to the window. “Stay here.” He rose, tossing his uneaten portion upon a platter of grapes. He yanked the draperies shut, filling the room with gloom. He lit a lamp but it did little to dispel the semidarkness. With a kiss on my forehead, he removed my teacup from my hands. “If you’re not hungry, sleep before our journey. You’re tired. Excuse me; I’ll return in a moment.”
I rested my head upon the arm of the velvet couch until he left; then I went to the window and parted the draperies. A gloomy mist enfolded the landscape.
I shivered and glanced at the hearth, wishing for fire. The white, crumpled paper Mr. Macy had tossed there still lay in the grate.
Edward’s words surfaced to memory. “I’m absolutely convinced he’s evil, though I lack proof.”
Would it help, I wondered, if I found evidence? I tiptoed across the room and knelt. The house was still and silent, so I retrieved the letter and smoothed out the wrinkles.
Have checked from Lombard Street to the Thames. There is no sign of him. Will search Lothbury next.
I balled it back into a crumpled sphere and started to replace it, but a hand snatched mine.
“What the blazes do you think you are doing?” Mr. Macy asked.
I flinched and met his penetrating gaze. An admonition rose from within, warning me not to lie. “I was reading this.”
“Why?”
Surprised by the domination in his tone, I felt the impulse to lie but resisted it. “To . . . to see if it was extortion.”
Born of Persuasion Page 36