Read Online Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) by Jessica Dotta - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Dotta
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discovered—?”
“I’ll manage him,” Lord Dalry said. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.”
“Isaac.” Mrs. Coleman planted a hand on her hip, then slowly looked my way. Her gaze lingered over the papers that had dropped from my hands to the floor. Relief flooded her countenance. “Yes, yes, do take her.” She bent and scooped up the pages. “Only give me your promise to help her decide on these household matters.” She thrust the pages into Lord Dalry’s hand.
“Have James bring us tea in the back parlor.” Lord Dalry slipped the loose pages under his arm. “James, mind you; not William or Eaton. Understand?”
Her mouth pursed, and for half a second she looked as though she doubted her decision. “No shenanigans. I want your sworn word.”
His reply was a direct stare, which brought color to her cheeks. Even I shifted, uncomfortable with his evident displeasure. “Have I ever acted unseemly? Even once in memory?”
Her color deepened and she mumbled something inaudible.
“Move along with you, then.” Lord Dalry stepped from the doorway, allowing her to pass. “Be quick about it. Simmons is also on the prowl. Be forewarned; there’s bound to be another quarrel between us tonight.”
I frowned at the mention of my father’s steward.
“Good gracious,” she said, entering the dark hall. “Here I’ve been waiting for you to come and settle things, not stir them up worse.”
His eyebrows elevated before he turned and favored me with a bow as Mrs. Coleman pattered away. “Forgive me this unorthodox greeting, but if you wish to hear the particulars of my journey, we must act now.”
“Please.” I advanced toward him, scarcely able to level the panic in my voice. “Is he all right?”
Lord Dalry extended his arm, and as he did so, homesickness nearly buckled my knees. Traces of Am Meer’s scent clung to his clothing. “I assure you, I left Reverend Auburn in excellent health.” Even then, I noted how he made sure our eyes met when he said Edward’s name, only I couldn’t guess the reason. “Please, the moment your father learns I’m home, he’ll summon me. Once he learns what has passed, I’ll have no opportunity to furnish you with the particulars. I promised Miss Windham I would do my best to deliver her message to you.”
“Elizabeth?” Her name alone threatened to dissolve me.
Lord Dalry placed the tips of his fingers beneath my elbow in the lightest of touches. “This way.”
For several minutes nothing was spoken as he guided me through passages of Maplecroft I’d not yet explored. My slippered feet made no noise while his boots echoed over the vast marble halls. His conversation with the housekeeper and his working knowledge of the passageways made me feel more alien in Maplecroft than ever.
“Turn in here.” Lord Dalry opened the door to a white-pillared room whose walls were glazed the color of weak tea. Gold glinted off various mirrors, and gilt-edged wreaths embossed the sides of tables. Opposite us hung a carriage-size painting of my ancestral look-alike. From high in her massive frame, she watched as I pulled my shawl tight. A smile curved her lips and welcome filled her eyes.
“Lady Josephine,” Lord Dalry said, slipping past me and into the chamber. “Your father’s mother. This was her private parlor.”
My gaze settled on the large center table, where speckled green and brownish-red pears sat in a porcelain bowl next to dainty white flowers. Near them, a bronze sculpture of cherubic children played with boughs of flowers. An awkwardly decoupaged box sat beneath an intricate jewelry box. Plain next to fancy. Earth next to art.
“My grandmother,” I whispered, returning my gaze to the smiling portrait. My father’s harsh words, spoken the night I married Mr. Macy, cycled back.
“There’s also a handsome living left to you from my mother. . . . She learned of your existence and took pity. I’m glad she died,
“I’ll manage him,” Lord Dalry said. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.”
“Isaac.” Mrs. Coleman planted a hand on her hip, then slowly looked my way. Her gaze lingered over the papers that had dropped from my hands to the floor. Relief flooded her countenance. “Yes, yes, do take her.” She bent and scooped up the pages. “Only give me your promise to help her decide on these household matters.” She thrust the pages into Lord Dalry’s hand.
“Have James bring us tea in the back parlor.” Lord Dalry slipped the loose pages under his arm. “James, mind you; not William or Eaton. Understand?”
Her mouth pursed, and for half a second she looked as though she doubted her decision. “No shenanigans. I want your sworn word.”
His reply was a direct stare, which brought color to her cheeks. Even I shifted, uncomfortable with his evident displeasure. “Have I ever acted unseemly? Even once in memory?”
Her color deepened and she mumbled something inaudible.
“Move along with you, then.” Lord Dalry stepped from the doorway, allowing her to pass. “Be quick about it. Simmons is also on the prowl. Be forewarned; there’s bound to be another quarrel between us tonight.”
I frowned at the mention of my father’s steward.
“Good gracious,” she said, entering the dark hall. “Here I’ve been waiting for you to come and settle things, not stir them up worse.”
His eyebrows elevated before he turned and favored me with a bow as Mrs. Coleman pattered away. “Forgive me this unorthodox greeting, but if you wish to hear the particulars of my journey, we must act now.”
“Please.” I advanced toward him, scarcely able to level the panic in my voice. “Is he all right?”
Lord Dalry extended his arm, and as he did so, homesickness nearly buckled my knees. Traces of Am Meer’s scent clung to his clothing. “I assure you, I left Reverend Auburn in excellent health.” Even then, I noted how he made sure our eyes met when he said Edward’s name, only I couldn’t guess the reason. “Please, the moment your father learns I’m home, he’ll summon me. Once he learns what has passed, I’ll have no opportunity to furnish you with the particulars. I promised Miss Windham I would do my best to deliver her message to you.”
“Elizabeth?” Her name alone threatened to dissolve me.
Lord Dalry placed the tips of his fingers beneath my elbow in the lightest of touches. “This way.”
For several minutes nothing was spoken as he guided me through passages of Maplecroft I’d not yet explored. My slippered feet made no noise while his boots echoed over the vast marble halls. His conversation with the housekeeper and his working knowledge of the passageways made me feel more alien in Maplecroft than ever.
“Turn in here.” Lord Dalry opened the door to a white-pillared room whose walls were glazed the color of weak tea. Gold glinted off various mirrors, and gilt-edged wreaths embossed the sides of tables. Opposite us hung a carriage-size painting of my ancestral look-alike. From high in her massive frame, she watched as I pulled my shawl tight. A smile curved her lips and welcome filled her eyes.
“Lady Josephine,” Lord Dalry said, slipping past me and into the chamber. “Your father’s mother. This was her private parlor.”
My gaze settled on the large center table, where speckled green and brownish-red pears sat in a porcelain bowl next to dainty white flowers. Near them, a bronze sculpture of cherubic children played with boughs of flowers. An awkwardly decoupaged box sat beneath an intricate jewelry box. Plain next to fancy. Earth next to art.
“My grandmother,” I whispered, returning my gaze to the smiling portrait. My father’s harsh words, spoken the night I married Mr. Macy, cycled back.
“There’s also a handsome living left to you from my mother. . . . She learned of your existence and took pity. I’m glad she died,
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