Isaac kept my arm in his, and the humid warmth of our bodies diffused through my limbs. I stifled a yawn. Like sticky honey, the desire to sleep coated my thoughts, causing my eyelids to grow heavy. For a second, I rested my head on Isaac’s shoulder, just to close my eyes a moment.
“Miss Pierson tires,” the gentleman said with a smile in his voice, and I blinked awake. “Why not take her home and come back to finish our talk. Miss Pierson, you’ve been most kind to tolerate us.”
I tried to give him an elegant head bob, but even tired I knew it was clumsy.
Isaac smiled at the gentleman, but I knew it was placed. “Perhaps we should end our conversation now. Unfortunately, we have two more parties we need to make appearances at. It’s best we move on.”
The gentleman took a sudden step backwards. “Let us hope the night air revives her. Shall we finish our conversation at White’s? I’ll be there this Tuesday. I know Harrison would be interested in your thoughts about this as well.”
“I fear I have no plans to attend the clubs this week. Miss Pierson has been very tolerant of her father’s and my work. It’s her turn to attend functions.”
“So? Why not come afterwards?” He nodded at me. “Take her to the balls and then join us for the night debates. If what you’re saying is true, this changes my entire view.”
“Perhaps.” Isaac broke contact with the man. “Do you have your fan? Shall we?”
“Well, come on, my good man. What club will you attend tonight? I’ll join you there, if I must.”
“None. Good night.” Isaac took my arm and we escaped by ducking under palm leaves and hastening past a matron surrounded by daughters. As the gentleman attempted to follow us, the mother bowed, obliging him to stop and acknowledge her. Leaning near, Isaac said, “I’m sorry, Julia. I should have realized we were talking too long.”
“Are we really going elsewhere?”
“Eramus told your father he planned to visit three places at least.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s up to him. Go wait by the door. I’ll pull your escort from his card game. From the rumor I just heard, he’s lost an inordinate amount tonight.”
He elbowed his way back into the crowd. In the foyer, I fanned my neck, enjoying the thinner air. The night had been trying for more reasons than learning that members of the gentry knew I was Mr. Macy’s wife. All those weeks of practice, and I’d forgotten the correct way to address a duke, which Isaac had quickly amended. Once a girl had leaned over and whispered something in French to me, nodding at Isaac, and all I could do was smile and hope she wasn’t insulting him or inquiring if we were closer than we ought to be.
Feeling eyes upon me, I stiffened and looked about. Four doors down, in the night-filled hall, Lord Alexander stood astride a threshold. His expression was one of irritation, but he scarcely rested a glance on me. Instead, his eyes darted between the doors surrounding me.
Isaac returned with a drunk Eramus, who seemed too intoxicated to stand, much less notice me, and started to gather our outerwear. Eramus sank into a seat, nearly falling from its corner.
Lord Alexander lingered a second, watching us, then melted into the darkened room with a dissatisfied expression.
Moonlight glided across the smooth floors, adding luster to the marble busts and clock faces, as Isaac and I slipped into the hall. My cheeks hurt from smiling, my hands tingled from clapping at the musical performances, and my feet were so swollen they felt glued to my slippers. I dropped my fan and purse on the table to the sound of Eramus’s carriage rattling away. I shut my eyes, realizing I’d never been so happy to be back in London House.
The gold brooch securing my cape felt cool to the touch as I unclasped it. Heavy velvet and satin slid from my shoulders and fell to the floor with a rustle. February’s fingers pierced my skin as the warmth from the cape evaporated.
While Isaac gathered my fallen garment, I peeled off my beaded footwear. Though tempted to leave the slippers scattered over the foyer and force Miss Moray to trek down three stories to retrieve them, I hooked them around my fingers and stood to leave.
“Wait.” Isaac shook off his own cape and uncharacteristically left it crumpled on the floor. He took two steps and reached for me but paused when I made no move to continue up the stairs.
“Julia.” He touched his forehead with his fingertips as though trying to reason which thought to speak first. “I know you are weary, but what happened at Lord Billingsby’s tonight?” The huskiness coating his voice clashed with the serene atmosphere of the hall.
I was so fatigued, it felt like I’d consumed too many glasses of claret as I slowly met his gaze. For the first time, I saw him as all the young ladies throughout London saw him—handsome as the Greek god Ares, only without violence. Moonlight sharpened his features as candlelight never had. For one second, I allowed myself to admire him.
His eyes widened, but in a refined movement, he slid one hand to my waist and cradled my face with the other. His lips touched mine, and for half a second, I considered exploring the kiss. But I thought of Edward, and all at once, a mere mortal pressed his lips against mine. Not a god, just a man. One whom I still did not love.
“Julia.” His words were a sigh as he kissed my temple, then trailed along the side of my face.
By allowing one weak moment, I’d committed my cruelest act to date. As though an unravelling thread were being pulled, I had to stop this somewhere, lest everything come undone. Pulling away, I met his gaze. The love that filled his eyes was unbearable. He mistook my dismay for surrender, for he drew me against him, kissing my neck.
The front door rattled.
Wiping his bottom lip, Isaac spun. My father and Simmons gave us a disgruntled glance before entering.
“Honestly, Isaac.” My father shoved his walking stick between the umbrellas in the blue-and-white porcelain stand. He yanked off the white silk scarf, then fumbled with his greatcoat buttons. “What if I had brought a guest back to the house with me?”
“I know how this must look, sir, but I assure you. It was . . . I—I—” Isaac wet his lips and took a deep breath. He extended one hand as if to speak, but it didn’t appear as though words were coming.
I crossed my arms, pulling them to my stomach, knowing how much harder it would be the next time I needed to refuse a betrothal on the basis that I still didn’t love Isaac.
My father gave a dismissive wave. “Not here. Go to the library. We’ll discuss it there.” Isaac bowed and retreated. Once he was gone, my father yanked at the fingers of his gloves, slowly considering me.
I resisted the urge to wipe my lips, though I still felt Isaac’s kisses. My father narrowed his eyes. I lifted my chin and looked away, feeling contrary. Why had he so freely dismissed Isaac but censured me?
In a sudden burst of anger, I coldly met his eye. Let him see that I wasn’t swooning over Isaac. “What?” I finally asked. “Is that not what you wanted?”
He shoved his gloves into his pockets. “Go to bed, Julia.”
I started up the stairs, measuring each step to show him that I was not afraid, but then realized I needed to tell him about tonight.
“Lord Alexander knows that I’m Mr. Macy’s wife.”
Even in the semidarkness, I saw his features harden. “How many times are we going to discuss this? You are not that man’s wife.” He paused, allowing his rebuke to settle. “What makes you suspect that?”
I inhaled, resisting the urge to cite English law in argument toward my being married, but answered the question he meant. I explained what had happened, but my father was unmoved.
“He wasn’t speaking of Macy,” he decided. “When he said you’d fallen amongst ‘his’ friends, he meant me. Our political alliance is a known fact. Go to bed.”
“You weren’t there,” I protested.
He gave a huff of annoyance. “No, and neither did I need to be to recognize female hysteria when I hear it.”
I had to swallow twice before answering, and when I did, I took a sta
b in the dark. “I’m glad Mama left you.”
He startled, giving me a queer look, but then ignored my remark and proceeded to the library.
On the second landing, I paused and glanced down. Simmons alone remained in the foyer, and he ignored me as he tended to my father’s outer garments. Moonlight streaked across his back in a pale rectangle as he bent, retrieving the articles.
My stomach twisted as I realized he’d heard every word. I still didn’t know who Macy’s spies were, but if Simmons was one, Macy would know my father’s weakness in not believing me.
EDWARD’S WATCH felt cold in the palm of my hand as it sparkled in the morning sun. In the mirror, Miss Moray observed me as she parted my hair into plaits and applied generous amounts of pomade. Tapping my thumb against the sharp end of the pin, I envisioned Isaac’s dismay and felt loathsome.
“Hold still now.” Miss Moray stepped onto a footstool so she could better position herself to coil my hair atop my head. “Don’t bend at all, or it’ll fall apart.”
I closed my fingers around the watch. How could I have allowed myself to kiss Isaac? He would expect me not to wear the pin today, especially with my father breathing down his neck. Knots tied my stomach. If I joined breakfast wearing the watch, how would it not injure him?
The rays of sun moved, warming my skirt and back, yet I felt barren.
A lump rose in my throat. None of this situation was fair to Isaac. I opened my palm and stared at the glittering pin. This desperate hope for time was playing with fire. How long until it burned me?
“There, finished.” Miss Moray dusted off her hands before using my shoulder to aid her balance as she stepped off the stool. “Best move on now.”
Arms folded tight over my stomach, I eased into the breakfast chamber, wondering how many more mornings to come would feel sickening.
Sunlight poured into the dark room, making the polished floors gleam. Isaac sat alone at the oversized table, staring at a book, yet he scarcely seemed to register the page. Rather, he gave me the impression of a man holding a book to keep occupied.
“Isaac.” Fearing I’d spoken too softly to be heard, I pulled my shawl tight.
He jumped to his feet, casting aside the book. His gaze riveted on the pin. He wrinkled his brow, but as understanding dawned, his face paled.
Not realizing the unspoken tension, James smiled at me and pulled out my chair. I refused to meet Isaac’s bruised gaze as I took my seat. Thankfully, Miss Moray had dressed me in a full skirt, and I made a show of tucking it beneath the table.
“Julia,” Isaac said.
Heat rose through my cheeks and ears as I carefully unrolled my napkin. Then, unable to keep up the charade of indifference, I cast him a pleading look not to do this.
“Julia, please believe me, I never would have kissed you . . .” His voice failed, and ducking his head, he clenched his napkin. “I thought . . . I thought—”
James’s eyes grew as round as shillings, but finding an excuse to leave the room, he bowed and shut us within.
“Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
There was a quality to Isaac’s voice that nearly undid me. What could I say? The fault did not lie with him. I focused my gaze on a saltcellar. What if I was mistaken to hold out for Edward? I swallowed, wondering where I would be this morning if I had handed my life over to God. Would I be required to obey my father’s wishes?
“Are you not speaking to me now?” Like a defendant awaiting his verdict, Isaac waited for me to say something, anything.
A single set of footsteps reverberated in the hall, saving me from having to answer. Surprised, I glanced over my shoulder. My father was supposed to be in session. The scent of cloves filled the chamber as my father stormed into my line of view. He motioned for Isaac not to rise. “Well? Should I announce it today?”
All pain left Isaac’s countenance, though I noted his fingers tightened over his napkin. With an urbane expression, he lifted his eyes and looked at my father. “Sir?”
My father’s brow furrowed as he placed his hands on the back of his chair. “Have you finished yet? Can I send Forrester the announcement?”
Isaac opened his mouth as if suddenly remembering an appointment. “No, sir. I’ve not asked her yet.”
My father’s knuckles turned white as he waited unsuccessfully for a better response. I shifted in my seat.
“She’s sitting right there,” my father finally growled.
Isaac turned and viewed me, his gaze flickering to the watch. “Yes. I can see her.”
“Well?”
“Well, what, sir?”
I squeezed the edges of my chair as my father looked on the verge of having an apoplexy.
“I’ve had just about as much of this as I’m going to allow. I want whatever is holding up this engagement resolved.”
Isaac picked up the book he’d been holding when I entered the room and stared at it. “Sir, we agreed from the very first day that I could do this my way. I’ll ask her when I’m ready.”
My father’s upper lip curled as he turned to me. My face tightened as I strove not to cry.
“James!” My father shoved a chair against the table. “Bring me my coat and walking stick. I’ve already missed the opening session.”
James clamored into the chamber, carrying my father’s black woollen coat. My father yanked it from James’s arms and glared at Isaac. “It didn’t appear to me last night that you would be forcing anything on her.” He shoved his arms into the coat, grabbed his walking stick, and gave Isaac one last fierce glance before stomping toward the door.
Suddenly he stopped and patted his chest. “Oh yes. Of all the bothersome nonsense, Lord Billingsby sent me a note this morning. Something urgent. Whatever it is, he thought it worth missing the morning session to talk privately.” He pulled an open letter from his waistcoat and flung it on the table. “Make yourself useful today and attend him.”
Isaac reached for the note and gingerly opened it. “Sir, I believe I know what is bothering Lord Billingsby, and it involves me. You see, last night—”
“Just fix the problem!” My father motioned for James to move from the doorway.
“But, sir—”
“Isaac, I haven’t time to care what this is about. Just solve it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be out late. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Any appetite I might have had departed with my father. Isaac frowned as he read Lord Billingsby’s note for himself. Then, with a sudden flush of temper, he stood, wadded the note into a ball, and tossed it into the fire. With the poker, he jabbed his frustration out in the embers.
Without glancing again at me, Isaac grabbed his frock coat from the back of his chair and left the room, his brow creased.
“I said bloomin’ move!” a man screamed a short distance away, causing Isaac to stir and look out the carriage window with disgust. There was little to be seen, for a thick fog choked our view, tangling traffic, embedding our carriage two streets from the opera house.
Eramus smirked and tapped his palm with the silver knob of his walking stick. “Are you ready to risk exposing your precious bride to the evils of London yet?”
Isaac curled his index finger over his lips, his countenance discomposed. Someone coughed nearby, choking on the thick fumes swirling in the fog.
Eramus sat back and spread his arm. “With traffic like this, we could sit here all night. What’s your concern? It’s hardly a distance and she’ll be between us the entire time. Even Roy would approve of our arriving on foot.”
I stretched my neck, which felt cricked, then attempted to yank my velvet cape out from beneath Eramus’s boot. “I agree, Isaac. Anything would be better than sitting here.”
“All right, fine.” Isaac unfolded from his slouched position. “Since Julia desires it, we’ll attempt to walk through this gloom. Eramus, stay here while I talk to Hudson, and keep your mouth shut for once. We’re both tired of hearing your ugly voice.”<
br />
The carriage swayed as Isaac alighted with a hop. Wintry air accompanied the brume. I nestled the Elizabethan collar of my opera cloak about my face, while Isaac tried to instruct our coachman on what to do once the congestion became disentangled. Out of nowhere, a canine raced to Isaac and snarled at his feet. Hudson tried to whip the hound, making Isaac’s task all the more difficult.
“You know, Cousin.” Eramus broke into my thoughts as he leaned into view. “I pity you, having to unite your life with the family leech. You do know that is the only reason your father allowed you into his household, don’t you? He was in the process of seeing if there was any way around his entailment. Spent the last year fighting for the right to pass it on to Isaac. Rather convenient, having a bastard daughter around to wed the leech.”
I glared at him, wondering how much truth was behind that statement. I shook my head, refusing to believe it. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
He chuckled. “You don’t fancy Isaac, do you? No, I can see by your face that I’ve hit a truth.” Then, leaning forward, he called to Isaac, “Even the misbegotten family members would rather toss you back, Isaac.”
It was only a flash of pain, but I saw that Eramus’s jab had found its mark.
Fire lit through me, and a temper flared—one that only Sarah, my nursemaid, had ever beheld. I tackled Eramus and beat him with my fists as hard as I could. Before I managed to bloody his nose, however, Isaac gripped both of my upper arms and pulled me from the carriage backwards.
One look at his demanding face doused my temper. He’d probably never seen such an unladylike display in his entire life. My emotions still high, I hit the carriage until my palm hurt.
“What on—?” Isaac wrapped me in his arms, drawing me near. “What did you do to her?”
“How dare you!” Eramus’s walking stick hit the hard ground. He pulled out a handkerchief, with which he mopped his face and checked for blood. “That, Isaac, was a display of her repulsion at the thought of marrying you.”
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