Free Mark of Distinction (Price of Privilege) by Jessica Dotta Page A

actually permit that Windham woman into his house.”
    “How unlucky your lack of foresight proved to be for his youngest son.” Mr. Forrester bit into a raspberry Danish, holding one hand beneath his mouth to catch crumbs. “His good name lost over that tart sitting there.”
    My father grimaced. “And the meeting with his father?”
    “Lord Auburn plans to remain ignorant, but at cost. You may want to sell a mine when you learn how much.” Simmons frowned, nudging his head toward me. “He also requires you prevent chance encounters since he’s met her before. If they cross paths, he’ll be forced to go to the authorities to keep from being an accomplice.”
    My father kept his face turned from me but pushed back the tails of his frock coat. “Isaac, remove Julia. She needn’t be privy to this.”
    Lord Dalry found his feet and gave a graceful wave of his hand. “Normally I would be glad to, sir. But if you recall, it was your party who disturbed our tea. It would be far more seemly if you left and took the conversation with you.”
    “Isaac!”
    “I’m perfectly serious, sir.” He turned and gave Mr. Forrester a curt nod. “No matter what their opinion of her is, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s Lord Pierson’s daughter, and, as such, she’ll be treated graciously and not insulted.”
    “No one insulted that piece of work,” Mr. Forrester said between mouthfuls, setting his Danish into an empty cup to comb over the other selections. “We were discussing Simmons’s faults. Not hers.”
    “This conversation is finished. Isaac, I know what you were attempting, and it was ill done. What happened to Reverend Auburn is of no concern to her. Or us, for that matter.” My father tossed the two letters into the fire, now crackling merrily. Mrs. Windham’s missive, unfolded, fluttered and made an open show of going to its death.
    “Isaac, finish here,” my father commanded, “then join me in the library. You should know now, we leave for London in the morning.”
    “London!” Lord Dalry bent his head, making a petition. “But it’s not even the season yet! I hoped at the very least to spend a day or two with Kate and Mother.”
    “There isn’t time. I’ve been waiting for your return. It’ll takeboth of us controlling the damage if we’re going to pull this off. Tell Eaton to send them word that we’re leaving.”
    “With all due respect, sir, I’ll ride over and tell them myself.”
    My father looked about to deny the request. “Honestly, Isaac! Fine. Only I expect you to dine here.”
    Lord Dalry seemed surprised, even annoyed, at the command but acquiesced with a nod.
    “Robert.” My father turned and, without waiting to see whether Mr. Forrester followed him, left. His voice rang from the hall. “Simmons, stay and chaperone.”
    With a shrug, Mr. Forrester abandoned the tea tray and wiped his hands over the front of his frock coat as he left the chamber.
    There was no recovery from such an action—from this conversation. I pressed my fingertips against my forehead and my cheeks as if to ascertain this wasn’t a horrible nightmare.
    “I am truly sorry, Miss Pierson,” Lord Dalry said in a low voice. “I had hoped we’d have a few more minutes in private.”
    I stared at the fireplace, where my former life turned to ashes. If I could have trusted my feet to carry me, I would have fled the scene. What tidings had Elizabeth thought would be best coming from her? Had the bishop come? Had Edward been tried as an adulterer? Was Nancy hurt?
    “Tea, Miss Pierson?”
    Rendered speechless, I turned to view Lord Dalry, my restless fingers now tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. Could he not see I barely clung to sanity? But he did see. Compassion punctuated his every feature.
    “I assure you, matters could have been much worse, and Reverend Auburn fared rather well through the entire ordeal.”
    “Isaac,” Simmons warned from the desk in the corner.
    “Surely even you