Her face blanched as she stepped back. Obviously, his words had touched something inside of her. Suddenly, she is beginning to see the reality of the situation, he thought. This was no longer an abstract puzzle.
She studied him for a moment, her head tilting just slightly to the side in that way he found so becoming. Biting her lip, she thought for a moment then said, “Perhaps I could do it.”
The words washed over him without meaning. He had to circle back and repeat them in his head to ensure he had heard correctly.
“You?”
She frowned at him. “Of course. Why not me. Because I am a woman? I assure you, we learn very young how to detect falsehoods.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Miss Amanda Waters becoming involved in this. No, under no circumstances would he allow that to happen. The concept of his two worlds mixing sent a cold chill down his back.
He looked at her and his heart hitched for a second. The woman looked so hopeful, but she was being ridiculous.
“No, Amanda,” he said. “I think not.”
She continued to frown at him, crossing her arms over her stomach. She was upset with him, he realized. On many different levels. But he could not allow her to risk herself.
After a long moment, she sighed heavily then moved to the window to pull the curtains back.
“You need some sunshine,” she said. “Let’s get you over here by the window and I will play you a game of chess.”
Lord Warwick froze for a second. That had been quite a shift. One moment they were arguing about her catching a French spy. The next, a game of chess.
Slipping his good arm over her shoulder, she helped him across the room. The feel of her hip next to his. The scent of her lavender and rose perfume. The swell of her soft breast pressing into his side, all of it made him forget about the pain in his body. Instead, all he could think of was what it would be like to hold this woman through the night.
Once she had him situated at a side table, he leaned back and let the sun wash over him. Yes, she was right, this was what he needed.
When she returned a moment later with a wooden box and chess board, she began to set them up on the table.
“I assume you are a good player,” she said as she laid out his pieces for him. “I have been wanting to play with you.”
Suddenly, her cheeks grew pink and he smiled to himself. It seemed that his angel had wicked thoughts as well. Who would have ever guessed?
As they played, he quickly discovered that she was quite good. Perhaps his match. Frowning to himself when he found himself several pieces down, he focused on the board.
“You play very well,” he said.
“You say that as if you are surprised,” she replied. Giving him a quick frown that let him know she was disappointed in him.
He laughed, “More because of your young age, not your sex, I assure you.”
She frowned at him, but then quickly returned to studying the board. “I am twenty,” she said. “Almost on the shelf. I believe I am long past being young.”
He laughed but did not comment.
The game continued, both of them evenly matched. Lord Warwick felt his leg begin to stiffen and decided to stand up and stretch it out. Grabbing the chair arms, he lifted himself up into a standing position.
Amanda watched him until she was sure he was all right, then returned to the game. He smiled slightly, his body was getting better. The pain was manageable and his muscles were beginning to work again.
Twisting to take a few steps, his hip refused to work and collapsed like a house of cards. His arm shot out to catch himself, but instead, he caught the chess board, sending pieces flying in every direction.
Amanda jumped up, catching him and guiding his fall into the chair.
His world crumbled around him. He couldn’t even walk without destroying everything around himself. The game was ruined, only a rook lay on its side, rolling back and forth.
“I am sorry,” he said, “And the game was so interesting. I assure you, it was not a way of avoiding defeat. I might actually have been able to win.”
Her brow furrowed for a second as if she didn’t understand what he was saying.
“No bother,” she said as she started to arrange the pieces on the board.
He frowned as he watched her set each piece back onto the board. But not into a starting position. No, she was placing them where they had been located only moments ago. She even lined up the captured pieces in the same order that he had taken them.
“You know where each piece goes?” he asked with disbelief.
She frowned at him. “Don’t you?”
He shook his head, “Why do I suspect that if necessary, you could recreate every move for the entire game.”
She continued to frown, “But of course.”
He laughed, “Miss Waters, you are truly remarkable.”
She smiled at him, “You are just now discovering this?”
He laughed with her. It felt good to share this moment. Suddenly, he changed his word for her. Remarkable. So much more accurate than merely competent.
Chapter Seven
Amanda paid the coachman and marched up to the Caldwell’s front door. If this was going to work, she was going to need help.
“Miss Amanda,” Benson, Nathanial’s London butler, said with a smile when he answered the door. “Please come in. I must inform you though that Mr. Caldwell and Lady Alice are away.”
She nodded her understanding. “In addition, while Lord and Lady Bradford will be staying with us this season, they, and His little Lordship, young James, are not due to arrive until next week.”
Amanda returned his smile as she removed her bonnet. “Is Lady Weston receiving?” she asked. She well knew that Olivia was returning next week. No, it was Lady Weston she needed for this.
“Of course,” Benson said. “In the parlor.” Turning, the butler led her across the huge entrance way. Amanda smiled to herself. That oh so familiar scent of candle wax and wood oil seeped into her like a long lost friend. The Caldwell house had always been a second home. The staff kind and welcoming to her.
But, that didn’t mean things would go easily today. She must be careful, old Lady Weston was nobody’s fool. The woman could spot a subterfuge at a hundred paces.
“Miss Amanda Waters,” Benson announced formerly as he opened the parlor door.
“Amanda,” Lady Weston said with a welcoming smile from the settee, “What a pleasant surprise.”
Even at an advanced age, the woman looked stiff and regal, Amanda thought. Straight back, raised chin. As if the older woman were carved from stone. Lady Alice’s mother, the woman had provided a helping hand to Olivia and Amanda during their coming out.
Her knowledge of the ton and all of its mysterious workings had proven to be invaluable. Exactly the person I need to help me, Amanda thought.
“Lady Weston,” Amanda said as she gave a quick curtsy. “I pray I find you doing well.”
“Yes, Yes,” the older woman said as she patted the cushion next to her. “As well as an old lady can expect. Sit here, my dear, so I don’t have to strain to hear you.”
As Amanda approached, she noticed that Lady Weston’s brow furrowed in thought. Obviously trying to understand why I am here, Amanda realized. She’s already trying to figure out the puzzle.
While Amanda sat, Lady Weston said to Benson, “Some tea, and those cakes if there are any left.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Benson said with a bow before backing out of the room.
Lady Weston turned to Amanda and gave her a wide smile as she gently placed her hand on her knee.
“Tell me, are you doing well my dear? I worry about you, alone in that house. It doesn’t seem right. I am sure your father would not approve.”
Amanda sighed internally. What would Lady Weston think if she knew that Amanda had a British Lord locked up in the room next to hers? Half-naked, no less. The woman would faint from the vapors. Either that or laugh an
d congratulate her.
“Perhaps you are right, I have thought of hiring a footman,” Amanda said, no need to get into an argument. A few simple words and they could move past the matter.
Lady Weston nodded, “If you do, be sure to hire a handsome one. I don’t know why, but they seem to make the best footmen.”
Amanda fought to not roll her eyes. Be careful, she needed this woman. Besides, it was just Lady Weston’s way. There would be no changing her at this point in her life.
The two women halted talking as Benson returned with the tea. Once he was gone and as she poured out, Lady Weston looked over at Amanda and raised an eyebrow.
“Now you must tell me why you came today. And please, don’t say it was just to visit an old friend. Or that you were worried about me here alone with the family gone.”
Amanda took a deep breath, obviously, there would be no small talk. No way to lead up to the subject gently. Instead, she would have to attack it head-on. “Did you receive an invitation to Lord Hicks’s ball this next Wednesday?” she asked as she held her breath.
Lady Weston’s eyes narrowed as she leaned back, obviously surprised. Gathering herself she nodded, “I believe so, Nathanial is invited to almost everything. People hope to be included in his circle of friends. It can be quite lucrative. So yes, probably. But why do you ask?”
Taking another breath, Amanda held it for a second, this was the critical part.
“Because I was wondering if I might attend with you.”
Lady Weston stared at her for a long moment, her mind obviously whirling with thoughts. At last, she said, “I had not planned on attending. I mean, he is only the third son of a particularly obnoxious Duke.”
Amanda’s heart sank, of course the woman wasn’t planning to attend. She was ancient, the last thing she would want to do was attend a ball while Alice and Olivia were out of town.
“Why, dear?” Lady Weston asked, once again resting a hand on her knee. “Why is it important that you attend this dance?”
Here goes, Amanda thought to herself. Her first lie. Blushing slightly, she looked down at the hands in her lap. “I believe a man I know might be attending. I thought, perhaps …”
Lady Weston smiled broadly which then quickly turned over to a frown. “Who. Surely not Lord Hicks, the man is short, and not particularly bright. Not your type at all. Besides, he will never rise to a title. Too many brothers and nephews in the way.”
“No, no,” Amanda said, pushing her spectacles back to up on the bridge of her nose. A quiet fear ate at her stomach, nervous and afraid that Lady Weston would draw the wrong conclusion.
“Then who? I can assure you Lord Warwick will not be there. He doesn’t attend such things unless forced to and Lord Hicks doesn’t have that kind of power, I assure you.”
Amanda frowned. “Lord Warwick? Why would you think I was interested in Lord Warwick?”
Lady Weston “I thought …”
“No, no,” Amanda said quickly. “Lord Warwick is a notorious rake. Domineering, with an opinion of himself that is not justified, I assure you. No, only a fool would be interested in Lord Warwick. I haven’t seen him since Lady Alice’s ball a few months ago. Besides, the man will never marry, he has told me so more than once.”
Lady Weston pursed her lips for a moment then smiled slightly. “Of course, my dear. It is always nice to see a young woman who knows her own mind. Then who, might I ask?”
Amanda took a quick breath, she was still trying to understand why Lady Weston would think she could possibly be interested in Lord Warwick. It had to be the most ridiculous idea ever.
Pulling herself back to the conversation she sighed and said, “I would prefer not to name him yet. It is still early and I wouldn’t want to look the fool. But I assure you, he will be there that night.”
Lady Weston studied Amanda over the top of her teacup then nodded. “Of course my dear, I would enjoy an evening out. But at some point, you must inform me who this mysterious man is. After all, we can’t have you marrying just anyone. No, my record with young women is rather good. Just ask Alice and Olivia. I won’t let you give bad marks to my reputation as a matchmaker.”
Amanda laughed gently. That was the Lady Weston she knew and loved. And she had achieved her goal. Entry to Lord Hicks’ house. Now it would only be a matter of figuring out what she was looking for.
.o0o.
Amanda curtsied as she thanked Mister Hawthorn for the dance. He smiled back as he bowed at the waist. Very tall, and very thin, the man reminded her of a crane.
“I say,” he began with a bit of a pompous tone that set Amanda’s jaw on edge. “I am rather pleased to see you here tonight Miss Waters. Very pleasantly surprised.”
How did he make a compliment to her sound like it was all about him? As if she should feel privileged that he felt surprised. And why did all these men seem so … so? … Lacking. As if they were empty with no meaning. She had always thought the men of the ton to be less than ideal. But, now, after being with Lord Warwick and realizing who he was, it made the men of the ton seem even less.
Sighing internally, she gave the man her best pretend smile. The one she saved for people she didn’t particularly enjoy but society demanded that she treat kindly.
“Will Mister Caldwell be attending tonight?” He asked, sending a cold chill down her spine. Now she knew why the man had asked her to dance. Was this what Olivia went through, she wondered? This constant awareness that people were using her to get to Nathanial. No wonder Olivia fell in love with Bradford. The one man who didn’t try to use her.
“I don’t believe so,” she responded. “I believe he returns to town next week.”
“Oh,” was all that Mister Hawthorn said. But the disappointed tone exposed exactly how he felt.
Amanda opened her fan as she searched the room for Lady Weston. The sooner she got back to her, the sooner she could dispose of this oaf.
Lady Weston smiled secretly as she welcomed Amanda back to her side.
“Well, I know that is not the man,” she said with a quick laugh. Then, seeing Amanda’s questioning look, she continued, “No woman in love ever looked at a man like he was last week’s pudding. At least not until she had been married to the idiot for a few years.”
Amanda laughed as she fluttered the fan in front of her face to hide her amusement. It wouldn’t do for Lady Weston to discover there was no such man.
“There is our host,” Lady Weston said, shifting the subject as she nodded across the room. “Talking to that Simpson woman. I do believe she attends every event. She is afraid that if she doesn’t come to these, people will forget her. And now that I think of it, she is probably right.”
Amanda glanced to where Lady Weston had nodded. She was correct. Lord Hicks was in a close discussion with Lady Simpson. The man’s face was focused as if every word she said was of the greatest importance. The countess looked slightly angry.
She’s probably upset that Lord Hicks won’t give her the latest bit of gossip.
Now is my time, Amanda thought. I can’t put it off any longer and there will be no better opportunity. Her chest tightened up with fear. If she failed, then men would die. Or worse, if she was discovered, it might very well expose Lord Warwick somehow.
She must be very careful, too much depended upon this.
Turning to Lady Weston, she leaned forward so she could whisper, “If you will excuse me, I will be back in a moment.”
Lady Weston nodded, “The room is off to the left, but you might have to wait, there will be a bit of a line.”
Amanda hid her smile, let Lady Weston think she was using the facilities.
As she made her way into the hall, instead of turning left, she turned right. She had located Lord Hicks’s study earlier in the evening by asking a footman. Telling him that she was to meet her friend by the door to the study.
The footman had given her the information without a second thought. Just another silly woman. No reason to think she would
dare intrude into a Lord’s study.
Reaching the door, she stopped and looked around. Like all of the interior doors, it was not lockable. But then, why would a Lord need to protect his study?
The only other people in sight were two women at the far end of the hall. Both of them with their backs to her. Now, she told herself as her hand took the doorknob.
And with that, she was in.
Once on the other side, she rested her back against the door and tried to get her bearings. Her heart was racing so much she was rather sure it would pound its way out of her chest. What was she doing? This was madness. If she was discovered, how could she ever explain herself?
You are a woman, she told herself. Tell them you were hoping to meet your lover. They will believe that a lot sooner than think you were helping to catch French spies.
The silver moonlight shining through the windows provided enough light for her to find a lamp and light it.
The lamp cast the room in a yellow glow. She must hurry, she thought as she twirled around. Searching. A typical man’s study. The walls lined with books. A desk and chair. Two chairs this side of the desk. Another by the fire.
Warwick had mentioned a paper. Her heart fell. It could be anywhere. Tucked inside a book? The desk? A different room entirely. Where?
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to think. Where would she hide a paper that she didn’t want to be found?
Not in a book. Someone might pull it off the shelf. The paper dropping out and fluttering to their feet. No, not a book.
Sighing, she made her way to the desk, placing the lamp on the corner.
The man was tidy. Nothing on the desk but a quill and ink. As empty as a parson’s purse. Reaching down, she opened a drawer only to be shocked when it squeaked loudly. Freezing in place, she held her breath, waiting for Lord Hicks to rush in and accuse her.
After the longest ten seconds of her life, she finished pulling the first drawer out and searched inside. Nothing. Moving on, she searched each drawer, but there was nothing that looked like it might have anything to do with France, or spies, or anything nefarious for that matter.
The drawers were not locked which probably meant she was looking in the wrong place.
A Rake's Redemption Page 58
