“Yes, yes, merry Christmas, my good man. Now did you make it?”
I could only stare at Isaac. I’d never seen him act so ordinary.
“Of course.” Pierrick studied me with a discriminating gaze. “So you managed to convince the princess to come down to our world. Does her father know?”
“I told you I would introduce you to her, and of course he doesn’t know,” Isaac said. “I don’t see it. You did follow the directions, didn’t you? I’ve not forgotten that you tried to switch recipes last year. Where is it?”
The chef threw down his cleaver and wiped his hands on his apron, smearing it red. “I sent James with it to the breakfast table.” He nodded to me. “Is today the day?”
Isaac silenced him with a look. “No. Thank you for making my request.”
“Au revoir, Miss Pierson,” Pierrick said. “I made a lemon sauce to dish over the vile, dry food his mother calls gingerbread. I make the recipe the way Master Isaac likes, but I am no responsible for such a common cake. My sauce will help.”
“Did you have to ruin my surprise?” Isaac called over his shoulder.
“What? That you have no taste when it comes to the finer foods?”
“It’s a tradition in my family,” Isaac said under his breath to me as we left the kitchen. “We’ll enjoy this every Christmas morning from this point forward, but I wanted to give you the chance to deem whether you liked it for yourself.”
Each word pricked my conscience. He was so certain he would win my heart.
“You can know that, far away, Mother and Kate are partaking of it too,” he said, entering the main hall. Then with a smile, “Shush. Here comes your father.”
“Breakfast started ten minutes ago,” my father said, striding into the hall, wearing a deep frown. Traces of his anger still blotched his neck and forehead.
“Oh, well,” Isaac said, removing my cape.
“Isaac, you shouldn’t have taken her out—”
“If you please, spare me the lecture.” Isaac gestured for me to start toward the breakfast table. “And call me Lord Dalry. You may call her Miss Pierson.”
I paused, expecting my father’s wrath to fall.
“Well, Lord Dalry,” my father finally said, “at least you’re wearing attire this year.”
“It would hardly be suitable to wear my nightclothes in your daughter’s presence, sir.” When we entered the room, James stepped forward to pull out my chair, but Isaac stopped him. “No, James. Lord Pierson wishes to serve Julia this morning. He’ll seat her.”
“You’re determined to make this day miserable for me, aren’t you?” my father asked, yanking my chair from the table.
Isaac laughed. “Had you even attempted to act less severe when your daughter arrived, I might have had mercy on you today. Would you like your father to fetch you tea or coffee, Julia?”
I feared to answer.
“I don’t believe Miss Pierson knows the Christmas rules,” James said from the sideboard, grinning.
My mouth dropped. Surely he’d be ordered from the room for addressing us.
“No, it doesn’t look as if she does.” Isaac offered me a smile. “Shall we let her in on the fun, James? You see, on Christmas I run the household. Isn’t that correct, Roy?”
My father bowed with a sigh. “Yes, Lord Dalry.”
“Isaac is in charge?” I faced my father.
“Yes, Miss Pierson, but Lord Dalry is quite mistaken if he thinks I’m going to play footman to my daughter.”
“Oh yes, you will.” Isaac selected the Times, opened it, and propped his feet on a chair. “And you’ll obey any request she makes this morning. And if you behave, I’ll not make you serve Lady Beatrice when she arrives for dinner today.”
My father scowled.
“So we don’t have to be on time for breakfast?” I asked.
“We don’t have to be anything.” Isaac turned the page. “Go ahead, Julia. I’m dying to see what sort of footman your father makes.”
I laughed nervously and looked at my father. Would he really serve me? “I would like tea this morning, Roy.”
“Lord Dalry, I draw the line at my daughter calling me Roy.”
“Footmen aren’t allowed to address us,” Isaac said in a singsong voice, never looking up from the paper.
My father shook his head, then yanked the steaming rose teapot from the sideboard. “Will there be anything else, Miss Pierson?”
I bit my lip and looked at Isaac. How far could this game go? “So James would be allowed to sit at Father’s place and join us.”
Isaac acted like my father by not removing his gaze from the paper. “Do you wish it?”
My father shot me a warning look.
“Yes.”
Isaac closed the paper. “Very well, then. James, will you be so kind as to join us? Roy, set another place at the table.”
That afternoon, I descended the stairs an overdressed doll—the green velvet gown a Christmas present from my father. It was so pompous I felt certain Lady Beatrice had overseen its making. Likely she was punishing me for never calling on her after my debut. I felt ridiculous as the hair that had been parted and piled in ringlets bounced with each step.
“Ah, I hear Julia now.” My father’s voice carried from the front parlor.
He entered the foyer, and I could tell by his grimace he’d already warred with Lady Beatrice. He gestured for me to hurry, then pulled me into the room by my arm. Lady Beatrice sat by the fire, looking as tart as ever.
“Grandmamma.” I curtsied.
Her mouth twitched, and she tapped her finger against the chair arm as she turned her head, ignoring me.
“Julia will entertain.” My father placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed me into the center of the room. “I have work, but I look forward to seeing everyone at dinner.”
“Work?” a male voice asked from a corner. “Work on Christmas, Cousin?”
“Do not presume to question me, Eramus,” my father growled. “I said I have work to do. That means I have work.” He shut the door with a bang.
My skin prickled. The name had terrified Kate and brought Isaac home early. Curious to finally see him for myself, I slowly turned.
A portly young man leaned against the window frame with a bored expression. A large mole sat between his eyebrows, and heavy-lidded eyes added to his snobbish expression. “So.” He rolled a sovereign between his podgy fingers. “We’re supposed to be long-lost cousins.”
I drew myself to my full height. Except that I found him ugly, there was nothing fearsome about him. “Eramus Calvin?”
“At your service.” He puckered his mouth, viewing me as if he found me equally as ugly. “Come kiss me, for we are related.”
Lady Beatrice humphed from her chair.
He was testing me. But why? Something about Eramus brought out everything averse in me. He reminded me of a goblin prince Mama read about who only dined on fattened spiders and sour milk. Summoning courage, I kissed his fleshy cheek.
When I drew back, he rubbed off my kiss with his lace handkerchief. “Thank goodness, dear, old Pierson is pawning you off on Isaac,” he muttered under his breath, and then louder, “Do you play chess?”
“The thought is mutual,” I whispered back. Then, in my speaking voice, “No, I do not.” Which was not entirely true. I’d been taught but never enjoyed it.
“Well, there’s nothing else here that interests me.” Eramus gestured to a set board. “Lose a few games.”
“I need company,” Lady Beatrice protested.
“Shall I sit with you instead?” I asked. “When Isaac arrives, he can play chess with Eramus.”
She closed her eyes as if suddenly napping and unable to hear me.
Eramus collected my arm. “So you call the family leech by his given name already? How can you tolerate him?” Eramus sat at the chessboard and, with bloated fingers, touched the tops of the ivory pieces. “Tell me, which one of these pieces best suits you?”
I dropped into my seat, and my ostentatious dress billowed around me as high as my chest, forcing me to push it down. “I have not the pleasure of understanding you, sir.”
“Please, no flowery language.” Eramus rolled the king between his fingers. “It’s bad enough we’re forced to suffer one another’s company without having to flatter and cajole each other. You know what I mean.” He spread his hand over the board.
I studied the chessmen. Which piece was I? Between Mr. Macy and my father, the answer was clear. My eyes settled on the front row.
Footsteps swelled, running toward our door. Isaac burst into the room with a wild look. A glint of pleasure filled Eramus’s eyes. “How do you stand living under the same roof with such an uncultured clod, Cousin?” Then turning, he said, “Temper, temper, Isaac. I’ve not touched your precious bride-to-be.”
“Excuse me.” I rose.
Eramus moved his pawn. “Oops. The game has already started. It’s ill-bred to leave now.”
I glanced at Isaac for direction, but he only yanked on his waistcoat and gave me a look that asked whether I wished to be rescued or play it out. I sighed, plopped down, and combated the billows of my dress again.
With his disciplined look, Isaac sat across from Lady Beatrice and made inquiries after her health. With the air of a victim, she sighed a long string of complaints.
“Pathetic, aren’t they?” Eramus asked, looking at them.
I gave him my most sullen look and moved my pawn. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
James touched the match to the plum pudding and jumped back as it burst into flames. Eramus leaned around the display and repeated his last request. “You still haven’t granted me permission to take Julia out, Cousin.”
My father waited until the pudding had been snuffed before replying. “I think not, Eramus. Julia doesn’t care for the theatre.”
“Then why did she look like a beggar eyeing a shilling?” Eramus reached out and patted my hand next to my plate, smirking at Isaac.
Isaac gritted his teeth and glared. All during dinner, Eramus had taken jabs at Isaac. When James presented me with a platter, Eramus would dish my food, selecting my cuts, licking his fingers between each presented dish so his saliva mingled with my food, taking away my appetite.
“Why are you debating me?” My father sank his knife deep into the pudding. “I told you, Julia despises the theatre. I’m not going to force her to go.”
“Then where shall I take you, Cousin?” Eramus propped his elbow on the table. “Choose anywhere you’d like. The opera? A ball? A soiree?”
“As if I would allow Julia to go anywhere with the likes of you,” Isaac finally said. The first words he’d spoken during dinner.
“You forget, as her blood relative, I don’t require a chaperone. You needn’t worry; I know Pierson intends her for you. But there’s no reason why she must remain cooped indoors while you make the rounds to the clubs.” Eramus smiled at me. “Besides, having the toast of the season at my side will help my standing considerably.”
“And paying your debts would help even more,” Isaac replied in a crisp tone.
Eramus blinked at him like a frog. “Well, Cousin, where shall I take you next time they abandon you? You are aware that Isaac dances with all the pretty girls while you’re home . . .” He shrugged as if not being able to guess what I did.
My father curled his lip, warning him to stop.
“I would have thought you’d show Eramus more appreciation, Roy.” Lady Beatrice spoke from her place near the hearth. “He’s done nothing but dote on your daughter since he’s arrived. And it’s perfectly true what he says. Everyone is a-gossip about how she never leaves the house.”
Eramus took a bite of pudding. “I haven’t the slightest idea what to say when asked about it. At my club there are rumors that you keep bars on her window.”
My father tapped his spoon against the table. “No one actually said that!”
Lady Beatrice laughed. “There are worse rumors tied to this strange situation. London is whispering, Roy. Do you think it’s gone unnoticed that except for one ball, she hasn’t been seen publicly?”
“James, bring me a Scotch.” My father shoved his pudding away.
“Drinking won’t amend the situation,” Lady Beatrice mocked. “Her absence in society is commented on at every breakfast, tea, and card game I attend. I can scarcely take a stroll without an inquiry as to whether she’ll attend an upcoming event.”
“Sir.” Isaac’s calm voice caused us all to look at him. “It’s true. She needs to come out again.”
“All right,” my father finally conceded, accepting the Scotch. “All right. She’ll go to Lady Koop’s soiree with us, Isaac.”
“Well, it’s a start,” Eramus said. “As long as I get to show her off next.” He raised his wineglass to me. “Cheers.”
VOICES MURMURED beyond the entry hall, where the butler gave greeting as his footmen relieved us of our wraps. Feeling all nerves, I faced Isaac. He stood with one hand behind his back—poised and detached. When he felt my gaze upon him, he gave me a brief, loving smile before returning to his trained demeanor.
Until that moment, I’d not realized how intimate we’d become in private.
“Julia.” My father offered his arm and led me toward our hosts standing amongst palm branches just inside the reception room. The Koops looked nothing like their stationery, which was large and grand.
“Roy, what a lovely surprise!” Lady Koop’s earrings and necklaces glittered as her chest swelled with pride. “You’ve brought your daughter.”
My father grunted, but Isaac greeted her amicably, making up for my father’s lack of social grace. I gave her a shy smile, clinging to my father’s arm.
Before Isaac finished his inquiries, my father started toward the gathering but then halted.
Less than a yard away, Macy conversed with a gentleman. Three young ladies surrounded them, all trying to position themselves to catch Macy’s attention.
Candlelight highlighted Macy’s fetching appearance and deep-set eyes as he looked up and became aware of me. A seductive smile curved his lips before he disengaged himself. Keeping his gaze strictly on my father, he approached and bowed, then spoke quietly. “Roy.” His handsome features filled with affection as he viewed me. “I’m glad to see my wife out. For her sake, I’ll remove myself and find another soiree.”
My father’s hand tightened over my arm as I paled.
“Mr. Macy,” Isaac greeted, stepping to my side and taking my arm. Macy looked at him, then clucked his tongue at me before stepping away.
Behind me, I overheard him approach Lord and Lady Koop, saying, “I fear I shall not remain.”
“Why ever not?” Lady Koop sounded distressed. “Is something wrong?”
Isaac placed his hand on my shoulder and attempted to steer me out of hearing, but I refused to budge.
Mr. Macy laughed, haunting me with its sound. “Not a single thing, my dear. In fact, I’m most pleased. However, one of my strange whims has overtaken me, and I wish to depart.”
“But Lord Pierson just arrived, and his daughter is with him. Aren’t you interested in seeing the Emerald Heiress for yourself?”
Even Isaac ceased his attempts to remove me, curious to hear the response himself.
Macy laughed again, this time with a sardonic thread laced through his tone. “When I wish to better acquaint myself with her, I shall. In the meantime, I fear you shall not have the honor of two newspaper sensations at your little gathering. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I peered over my shoulder in time to see him touch his forehead in salute to me before he ducked out of sight.
“Are we all just going to stand here, transfixed by a liar?” My father flexed his hand, glaring at Isaac as if blaming him.
“Miss Pierson?”
We turned at the soft cry of feminine delight. Lady Northrum hastened toward us as fast as her rustling skirts allowed, her fan swinging from her wri
st. “Lord Pierson.” Her cheeks glowed pink as she gathered me to her for a kiss. “Will you allow me to take your daughter and make her introductions?”
A muted protest sounded behind us from Lady Koop, but etiquette demanded she remain by the door to greet guests.
“After all—” Lady Northrum lowered her voice, drawing me closer—“you are rather awkward when it comes to young ladies, sir.”
Isaac broke the tension with his clear laugh. “She has a point, sir. Yes, by all means, take Miss Pierson.”
My father gave her a stiff bow, making me suspect he was angry with Isaac.
“Come, my dear.” Lady Northrum tugged me away, speaking to me but aiming her voice for my father to hear. “I have charges your age with me tonight. My nieces. I shall introduce you.”
Traces of sandalwood occupied the atmosphere as we passed the spot where Macy had stood. I closed my eyes, feeling undone by the scent. Ever since I’d been forced to allow Isaac to court me, I never ceased to worry that I might still be married. Tonight when Macy called me his wife, no doubt had clouded his voice.
“Brava, Charlotte. Brava.” A middle-aged woman stepped away from her husband. She held out shaking hands, evidencing her nervous agitation. “I felt on edge the entire time. Indeed, for half a moment, I feared I might faint. It worked just as you said it would. How did you find the nerve?”
“Hush,” Lady Northrum whispered. “She doesn’t know there was a conspiracy to rescue her from her father.” Then to me, “You mustn’t feel alarmed. You’re not being disloyal.”
The other woman patted my cheek. Tears misted her eyes. “No, you mustn’t feel divided about him, Miss Pierson. Your father is just horribly awkward when it comes to overseeing your introduction. We don’t hold you to blame, my dear. Your penmanship alone tells us of your distress with every refusal you write. Matters of this nature do not come naturally to him. Your mother suffered under his rule too.”
They stared anxiously, waiting for me to speak. I fiddled with my gloves, unwilling at first to respond. Our masks are our death, yet we don them at all cost. A good daughter, a good wife, must always show respect, whether it is deserved or not. No one knows better than a gentlewoman that during such moments her piety is judged. In such circumstances, not only is a lie the only appropriate answer, but the truth will condemn you. The faulty logic being that if one was quiet and biddable as is fitting to her gender, then naturally the other person would be benevolent and loving.
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