by Alyson Chase
Julius placed his palms flat on either side of the letters and bent close. “Hanford wrote this to you? The condescending prick.”
She flapped a hand. “It didn’t matter. Ignore the words. Just look at the writing.”
He turned his head from letter to letter. Eyebrows lowered, he met her gaze. “I don’t see it. Hanford’s letter to you is a neat script. The blackmailer’s hand is loose and much larger.”
“Well, of course, he wouldn’t make it obvious.” She bent next to him and pointed at a line. “Do you see the ‘T’s in your letter. The cross line in almost all of them is a nice straight bar. But in the word ‘must’ here, and”—she flipped over the page—“the word ‘investigation’ here, the bars are angled upwards. Significantly so. And the little curly cue on the end is distinctive. It’s as though the author were trying to conceal his natural style of writing, but forgot in those two instances.”
Julius held the letter up to the oil lamp. “There’s a discrepancy with his ‘h’s, as well.” He picked up her letter. This time when he looked at her, he smiled. “It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, but it’s enough for Liverpool to authorize a private search of his home. The noose draws tighter.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I suspected his bumbling old man air was merely a ruse.” Folding up both letters, Julius tucked them into his coat pocket. “And Hanford was the only one who knew I was investigating Allan. He must have sent the order for him to be killed so the attorney couldn’t betray them.”
Amanda shivered. “And this is what you do? Spend your time chasing killers? Escaping from burning buildings?” How did he stand it? It was a good thing he didn’t want to marry. What wife could survive spending every night wondering if he would come home?
He rested a hand on her shoulder and rubbed his thumb along her collarbone. “Investigating crime rings and killers isn’t my usual task. The Crown uses me more as a recovery agent. I retrieve lost or stolen objects. Much less danger.”
“If you say so.”
Bending down, he kissed the hollow between her collarbones. “I say so.” He raised his head. “There’s no need to worry.”
Amanda didn’t believe that, but she knew Julius was as safe as he could be. He was smart and strong, and she would just have to trust him.
He cupped her cheek. “Now. We need to discuss our marriage.”
Her body jerked. Every time he said that word, it felt as though a thousand tiny needles jabbed into her heart. It would be so easy to take what she wanted. Pretend that circumstances had forced them both into it.
But she owed Julius too much. His freedom was the least she could give him.
Rolling up to her toes, she drew his lower lip into her mouth. She slid her hand down his flat belly and cupped the bulge behind his pants. “There’s nothing to talk about. Now come up to bed.” Grasping his hand, she turned to lead him upstairs.
He tugged on her hand, stopping her. “You can distract me for a while, but we will have that conversation.”
She nodded. She couldn’t avoid it forever. But at the end of that conversation, neither one of them would be happy. Julius would feel as though he’d betrayed his honor. And Amanda would have to end the affair. If they continued, he would eventually wear her down, leaving him miserable and her hopeless in their marriage.
After that conversation, there was no more future for them.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clutching her slippers to her stomach, Amanda pressed her ear against the seam of the double door. She shouldn’t be here, eavesdropping like a child, but ever since she’d heard that several of Julius’s friends had gathered in the library, she’d been desperate to know what was discussed. Were they plotting against Lord Hanford? Had the other men received blackmail notes? She didn’t think they’d invite her into their discussions, so she lurked. And listened.
A deep booming laugh vibrated the door. Not Julius’s. Although he seemed as excited by the prospect of breaking into Hanford’s home as the rest of them. Almost as though it were a schoolboy prank.
She would never understand men.
A floorboard creaked down the hall, and Amanda threw herself against the wall by the door, fiddling with the small heel on her slipper. Whoever it was turned down another corridor, and she eased back into position.
With one cheek pressed against the wood, she kept her eyes trained at the far end of the hall. A disagreement had broken out of how best to remove Hanford from his house that night. Amanda narrowed her eyes. It sounded as though Julius was telling someone he couldn’t start a fire and smoke him out. Though why anyone would need to be told that, Amanda didn’t know.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Spinning, Amanda’s slippers went flying. She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek.
Lady Mary tilted her head. “Whatever are you doing, dear?”
“How did you … where did you …?” Pressing a hand to her chest, Amanda tried to slow the beating of her heart.
“I came down the back stairs.”
A draught of air shifted Amanda’s skirts. Biting her lip, she turned again. Julius held open the door, an eyebrow disappearing under his hair. Her shriek hadn’t been as muffled as she’d hoped.
Amanda patted her bun. This one had turned out rather neatly. Julius had improved in his duties as lady’s maid. “Good morning.” She tried to look around him. “We were just walking past and I saw, uh, a mouse.”
“A mouse,” Julius drawled.
Amanda lifted her chin. “Yes. And in the home of a duke it was all the more shocking.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Do you have company? Shall I call for some tea?”
The other side of the door swung inward. “Some tea would be lovely,” said the man holding the handle. Amanda fell back a step. Julius’s friend was stunning in his beauty, his face a study in symmetry. Cobalt blue eyes assessed her from under a crop of artfully-mussed blond curls. But it was his clothes that Amanda couldn’t drag her gaze from. They were as colorful as a field of wildflowers. He stood out like a peacock.
The man looked behind her, and his eyes lit up. “Auntie May! How marvelous to see you.”
Two other men crowded forwards. One, Amanda knew. The Baron of Sutton nodded at her, his thick bush of a beard as unruly as it had been at The Black Rose. The other man could only be the Marquess of Dunkeld. His long auburn hair whispered of the Highlands. It was longer than fashionable and tied back with a black ribbon. But it was his massive size that gave him away. Julius had done a fair job of describing his friends. Which meant the peacock was—
“Johnnie, how many times have I told you not to call me Auntie?” Lady Mary shook her head, but her cheeks pinkened with delight. “I have enough problems with my real nephew. I don’t need to add the Earl of Summerset onto my list.”
Summerset took the older woman’s hand and kissed her cheek. “When you stop calling me Johnnie, I’ll quit calling you Auntie.”
Lady Mary sniffed. “Impertinent boy.”
Summerset led her into the library. “Besides, I spent more time at your house in London with Marcus when I was just a young lad than I did with any of my own family members.”
“You weren’t so young, and if I remember, you were nothing but trouble.” Lady Mary dipped a polite curtsy to Dunkeld and Sutton, and Summerset made the introductions.
Julius quirked one edge of his mouth up and swept his arm towards the room. Amanda minced in. Her skirts were long enough to cover her feet, but only if she stood still. Each step revealed her stockinged toes, and she didn’t know how to explain why she wore no slippers.
Lady Mary took a seat and smoothed her skirts. “What are you boys up to? With Johnnie involved, it must mean trouble.”
The man in question clutched a hand to his lavender silk coat. “I am all that is hurt.”
Dunkeld moved behind him. “You will be if you don’t show me that letter my mother wrote to you.”
“I told you she wrote no letter.”
“And I told you I recognize her handwriting.” The bear of a man flexed his hands, knuckles cracking. “If you and my mother have joined forces to plot against me, I’ll—”
“Not now.” Julius rubbed the back of his neck. He turned to Amanda. “Dunkeld is convinced Summerset is in league with his mother to marry him off. But they can argue about that later.” He pinned the men with glares. “Isn’t that right?”
Dunkeld landed a meaty palm on Summerset’s shoulder, and the poor man staggered. “Fine,” the big man said, his voice as icy as a Scottish moor. He bared his teeth at Summerset.
Lady Mary clapped her hands together. “Well, now that it’s settled that Johnnie shall be murdered later rather than sooner, you can tell us what it is you boys are up to.”
The sound of a mantle clock ticking became very loud.
Julius cleared his throat. “It’s nothing for you to concern yourself over, My Lady. Now how about a nice glass of sherry. You can show us all the lovely needlepoint designs you’ve been working on.”
Summerset hooted and flung himself into the chair next to the older woman. He draped one lilac-clad leg over the arm. “You’ve duped another one, May. I thought you were going to drop your act?”
She sniffed. “It isn’t all an act. I’m allowed to express different aspects of my psyche.”
Julius scratched his jaw. “What are you talking about, John?”
“Just that crazy Aunt May isn’t nearly so vapid as she likes to appear.” Summerset shook his head. “I had you figured out the first five minutes we met.”
“Yes, well, luckily for me dear Marcus wasn’t nearly so discerning.” A tiny smile crinkled the paper-thin skin of her cheeks. “He might have wondered more over my nightly comings and goings.”
Readjusting the diamond pin in his cravat, Summerset said, “He knows more than you think. He just chose to turn a blind eye on your eccentricities.”
“But …” Julius placed his hands on his hips. “Why the deuce would anyone do that? And to fool the woman in your charge …” He looked at Amanda.
Holding her hands behind her back, Amanda toed a circle on the floor.
“You knew.” Julius rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” He sank onto a wide settee.
Lady Mary tugged at the end of her sleeve. “You men think we’re blind as well as dumb. Did you really believe you could hide the fact that you’re doing a job for the government?” She held up a blue-veined hand and uncurled her index finger. “One, you’ve come home bloodied and bruised on more than one occasion. Not typical for a man of your station. Two”—she raised another finger—“there have been some very nice gentlemen watching this house. During my daily constitutionals, I would chat them up. After I got one of them talking about his wife and new baby daughter, he let slip a few details.” She glanced over at Summerset. “Your men, I presume.”
The dandy opened and closed his mouth. “Bloody hell. Dunkeld’s men, actually. But they were supposed to be professionals. They shouldn’t have let anyone see them, much less speak to them.”
She patted his hand. “He didn’t reveal specifics. But he did enough dancing around that I could identify the waltz he was in. Besides, you know I can get people to open up.”
“Liverpool has been employing the wrong Montague.” Sutton snorted in disgust.
Julius rubbed his temples. “I should be horsewhipped. I didn’t think I’d need to employ subterfuge.”
“In your defense, I did have an advantage knowing that Marcus was involved with Liverpool.” Lady Mary bestowed a kindly smile on him. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
Sutton stroked his beard. “Interesting as all this is, we do have a plan we need to devise.”
Dunkeld cleared his throat and pulled a chair from along the wall. “Ladies present,” he said in a low, warning voice. He flopped down, and the chair’s legs creaked in protest.
“Yes.” Julius lounged back. “Amanda. Lady Mary. If you would excuse us for a couple minutes more then I’ll send for some tea and we can all have a visit.”
“But Julius”—Amanda plopped down next to him—“I can help. You want Lord Hanford out of his home. Perhaps if I write to him and invite him here to discuss our disagreement …”
Amanda bit her lip and looked at the surrounding faces. She wasn’t supposed to know that. She didn’t know if she felt honored or insulted that Julius didn’t look surprised by her admission.
“It won’t work,” Julius said. “He may debate you in the papers, but he won’t deign to meet you here, one on one.”
“It would be beneath him,” Dunkeld agreed.
Julius glared at him.
“Is how he would feel,” the Scotsman amended. “I, of course, am not saying that visiting Miss Wilcox would be anything but delightful.”
Amanda flapped her hand in reassurance. “But there must be some way he would agree to come. Perhaps if I imply I have something scandalous to write to the papers about him?”
Summerset crossed one leg over the other and bobbed his foot. The diamond-studded broach pinned to the top of his shoe winked in the sunlight. “And set yourself up as his next victim? Hardly smart.”
“And never going to happen.” Julius growled, and the gazes of his three friends swung their way. The men eyed Julius and Amanda like they were the catch of the day, trying to decipher if the smell they’d caught wind of meant something was off. Dunkeld raised an auburn eyebrow, looking contemplative.
Amanda leaned back over the armrest, trying to put space between her and Julius. The men all must know she and Julius were intimate. But she didn’t need them suspecting Julius might actually care for her more than a lord should. It would be most awkward for him later.
“But what if she set herself up as another type of victim?” Lady Mary scooted to the edge of her seat. “Lord Hanford loves to take someone down in print and I’d bet he’d jump at the chance to humiliate her verbally, as well.”
“But they just said he wouldn’t come.” A pinprick of dread flared in Amanda’s stomach. Lady Mary was shrewd. And Amanda had a feeling she wouldn’t like the direction she was heading.
“He won’t pay a visit to you personally, no.” The older woman’s eyes flared with excitement. “But I bet he wouldn’t be able to say no to debating you on the public stage. He has too much invested in this quarrel with you. If you went to Simon’s like Rothchild’s friend asked, I’d lay odds Hanford would show, too. He couldn’t let you have an uncontested platform.”
“No,” Amanda and Julius said at the same time.
“The idea has merit.” Sutton pursed his lips. “We know he’d be away from his house for at least two hours.”
Dunkeld grunted. “The way politicians talk? I’d say more like four.”
Summerset lifted Lady Mary’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “If I were a younger man, I’d ask you to marry me. Brilliant.”
Lady Mary slapped his hand away, her translucent skin blushing a delicate pink. “Such brass.”
Her shoulders rounding inward, Amanda pressed her body into the settee’s back cushion. “Brilliant or not, I can’t do it.”
“Of course, you can,” Lady Mary said stoutly. “It’s just a question of whether you will or not.”
Amanda glared at the woman, feeling betrayed. Why she told her companion about the invitation to Simon’s, she didn’t know. Temporary insanity. She never expected the woman to use it against her.
“Whether she can or not is beside the point.” Julius patted her knee. “Since I won’t allow it, the issue is moot.”
Amanda slowly sat up until her spine was ramrod straight. “I beg your pardon? You won’t allow it.”
“Uh … that didn’t come out right.” Easing his hand off her leg, Julius gave her a wary look. “I only meant that as your temporary protector, it would be ill-advised of me to let a woman like you out in public.”
Dunkeld whistled, long and low.
Summerset gave Julius a pitying look. “Poor sod doesn’t know when to shut up.”
Amanda uncurled from the settee until she stood tall before Julius. She clenched her fists at her sides. “A woman like me?”
He jumped to his feet and grabbed her hands. She pulled them back.
“I meant a woman who has been a thorn in the side of a man I now suspect of grave wrongdoing.” Running a hand through his dark hair, Julius looked around the room for support.
His friends were wise enough to stay silent.
“It seems like the intelligence of Marcus’s friends has declined since you,” Lady Mary said, nudging Summerset with her elbow. “Since we can all ignore Rothchild’s rubbish, the question still remains: will you debate Lord Hanford?” She turned wide, faded-blue eyes on Amanda.
Amanda faltered back. They all awaited her response. She swallowed, trying to bring moisture to her bone-dry mouth. Could she? Taking a walk around the block had nearly sent her into a fit. Standing in front of a group of men, being heckled …
The last time that had happened she’d been standing before the Tyburn tree. That crowd had been men, women, and children, laughing and jeering, excited for their coming entertainment. She’d been numb, long ago resigned to her fate. After a year alone in her squalid cell, death had seemed more a welcoming respite rather than something to fear.
She’d been numb until Julius had rescued her. She owed him so much more than her life. She owed him the joy she’d rediscovered. The strength she’d begun to find deep within. And she owed all those innocents, the children and adults who didn’t deserve death for their mild crimes. They didn’t have a Julius to save them.
But they would have her.
She nodded, the smallest of jerks. Letting out a long, quavering breath, she nodded again, slow and deep. “Yes. I’ll do it.”
Lady Mary beamed. “I never had any doubt.”
That made one of them.
Julius gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “This isn’t like your afternoon constitutional. People won’t be ignoring you. They’ll be cruel, say hurtful things.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “And I won’t be there to stand next to you.”
