Chapter Nine
The afternoon’s light was waning, creating grotesque shadows on the walls of Clink Prison. The cell was spacious, as far as they went, with a small bedchamber and a larger living area, but it was still a cell. Even though the door wasn’t barred, sweat beaded on Julius’s brow.
The past few days had been filled with highs and lows. Standing once more in a prison definitely qualified as a low. As did every time he’d questioned a witness to Audley’s murder. Each individual that he’d been able to track down either didn’t recognize the man in the patched cloak, or, as in most cases, hadn’t even seen him. The lack of progress in his investigation made his fingers itch to pound something. Then he would return home, and there would be Amanda. Sweet Amanda.
The moments with Amanda had been some of the best of his life. Exploring each other’s bodies. Luring her into the garden and tasting her lips, warmed from the sun. Learning which rope she favored and which rope she never wanted to cross her body again. He smiled. His jute now lay buried at the bottom of his chest, ne’er to see the light of day until … well, until Marcus returned and Julius left his house.
Julius held his hands behind his back, the fingers of his right hand digging into his left wrist. He wouldn’t lie to his friend about his affair, and he had no doubt there would be a reckoning between the two because of it. He could only hope Marcus would be satisfied with bloodying his nose and not put an end to their friendship. For while he and Amanda lived under the same roof, Julius knew their intrigue would continue.
Julius loosened the knot of his cravat and fought the urge to check his pocket watch. Again. Amanda would love this debtor’s prison. A snug cell she could hide in, with enough creature comforts to live agreeably. Not for the first time he wondered how the horror of captivity could affect two people in such drastically different manners. Him, needing to be free at all costs. Her, relishing being under his control.
He stared out the small square of a window into the prison’s central yard, lost in thought. A few of the tenants wandered the grounds. A guard at the front gate kept a watchful eye.
Martin Dawnley shuffled out of his bed chamber, smoothing his hands down a hastily donned waistcoat. “My lord, had I known you were visiting I would have arranged for some tea.” The man looked around the cell, blinking rapidly, his cheeks ruddy with shame.
Rousing himself, Julius grabbed two spindly chairs and grouped them together. He dropped into his seat and indicated the other chair. Dawnley lowered down, rubbing his knee.
Julius didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “I’ve come on the recommendation of Lord Audley. You know him?”
Dawnley rubbed his hand across the top of his head, causing his sparse strands of grey hair to stick up straight. “Yes, my lord. But I’d heard the sad news that he’d passed.”
Julius arched an eyebrow.
“Even in here we do receive news.” Dawnley shrugged. “Especially when that news concerns the son of a duke.”
“Of course.” Had the news spread that Julius had been with the young lord moments before his death? Had the blackmailers heard of it? If the man who’d pushed Audley was a part of the crime ring, then they already knew of Julius’s involvement. His advantage was gone. “He told me that you used to work in the Court of Chancery.”
Dawnley nodded. “I was the head clerk.”
“And you came in contact with certain individuals who blackmailed you for blunt?”
Licking his lips, the man’s eyes darted to every corner of the room.
Julius sought to reassure him. “I, also, have been contacted by the same people.”
“Then you know we aren’t to discuss it.” A bit of haughtiness entered Dawnley’s voice, and for the first time Julius could see the civil servant he used to be.
Julius smiled. “I’ve never been much good at doing what I’m told. And besides”—he spread his hands wide, indicating their surroundings—“what else can they do to you?”
“I have family.” Dawnley leaned forward. “These people would have no compunction about hurting any of them to make a point.”
“Yes, an unmarried son and a widowed daughter.” Julius was nothing if not efficient at obtaining information. “Wouldn’t they be better served if their father was out of Clink Prison and earning a decent wage?”
“You mock me.”
Julius put out a hand to stop him from rising. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I have the means to pay off your debt. To assist you in finding employment. But I’ll need your help to remove the threat hanging above us like Damocles sword.”
Dawnley eased back. “There’s nothing to be done. It isn’t just one or two individuals you’d be fighting.” Resting an elbow on the arm of his chair, he dropped his high forehead into his palm. “There are many people involved. Too many to stop.”
“How do you know?” Julius asked. Audley had only seen the one man. Would the clerk have better descriptions?
Dawnley sighed, his shoulders slumping. “There came a time when I could no longer pay. That’s when they approached me for information. They wanted details on the cases passing through the court. And the demand came from an unexpected source.”
“Yes?” Julius prodded.
The old man hesitated and dropped his gaze. “There was a woman, one I’d become …”
“Intimate with?” Julius finished. He didn’t understand the man’s delicacy. He was a widower. But the lower classes were strange when it came to sexual morality.
“Yes. A widow.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Dawnley grimaced. “I’d told her some of my problems. I thought she cared for me.” He shook his head. “I was a fool. She was one of them. Had been keeping watch on me for the people she worked for. And she told me they were many.”
“And the name of this woman?” The lead ball in his gut told Julius he suspected the culprit, but he wanted confirmation.
“Mrs. Westmont. A very sweet woman.” He blushed. “Well, until she wasn’t.”
Julius rubbed his eyebrow. “So, after you discovered an intimate was among the blackmailers, you gave in to their demands?”
“I refused once.” Tugging at his threadbare waistcoat, Dawnley sat up straight. “I told them no more secrets. Mrs. Westmont paid me a visit after that. She took me somewhere, to some sort of private club. I was introduced to a man who handed me a report on every step of my children’s days. From when my son left his home, to when he arrived at work, to what he ate that day for lunch. I was told how many pounds of mutton my daughter had purchased. He knew everything. And he pointed out how easy it would be to make one of them disappear. Or one of my daughter’s babies.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “That is when I gave up any ideas of fighting.”
Julius edged forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “This man, what did he look like?”
“Tall and much too skinny. Looked a bit like a scarecrow to tell the truth. With a thin mustache. And before I left that night, I saw him speak to another woman, one with bright red hair. She was wearing a most indecent dress, but then”—he spread his hands—“the club was most indecent itself.”
Julius’s stomach slowly sank to the floor. “Where was this club?”
“Nowhere you’d want to go. Off Edward Street, I believe.”
Of course. It would be the one club Julius had made a second home. He stared at the square of sunlight, breathing heavily through his nose. Dawnley was right. The Black Rose was most indecent. Wonderfully indecent, along with the red-headed Madame Sable who ran the establishment. And now she was implicated in a blackmailing ring.
“And Mrs. Westmont? While you were having this conversation where the man threatened your family, where was she during all of this?”
“I think …” Dawnley ran a hand through his hair and looked to the corner of the room. “I believe she was in another room. With another man.”
Julius stared at the cell’s window. It made sense that the madam of a clandestine club would be involved in blackmail. Everything that happened within her walls was of a most private nature. The members trusted that their darkest desires would remain secret. And they paid through the nose to ensure it. The betrayal lanced Julius, and he gritted his teeth.
Julius’s need to tie women up wouldn’t be enough to ruin his reputation. As desires went, that was tame for The Black Rose. Other members of the ton might snigger behind his back, but no lasting damage would be done. Even if he were shunned, he hardly cared. Julius could live quite happily without the company of society.
But that couldn’t be said for all the members. Reputations could be destroyed; lives devastated. Some of his friends might not escape unscathed. He needed to tell them what he’d learned so they could try to control the damage.
But first, he would have a word with the lovely Madame Sable.
Julius thanked Dawnley and fled the prison. He didn’t know what the clerk had done to fall prey to blackmail and Julius didn’t want to know. He seemed a decent enough man. One who had tried to do the right thing. The tentacles of the shadowy organization were slithering into too many lives. Good lives.
Liverpool was right. They needed to be stopped. By any means necessary.
***
Amanda rubbed Reggie’s tummy, the repetitive motion soothing her as much as the dog. He flopped his head in her lap and sighed.
“Still not feeling back to your usual self?” She gently tugged at the sheet of paper stuck between her thigh and Reggie’s paw. She carefully folded the missive and tucked the square up her sleeve. “I don’t feel so well, either.”
“Are you ill, dear?” Lady Mary toddled into the room, Carter trailing in her wake, a large basket in his hands. “Did you catch what Reginald has?”
Amanda wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know if that’s possible.” Carter brushed past her and set the basket down by an armchair. Amanda tucked her legs back, digging her fingers into Reggie’s thick coat. The butler didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything untoward, hardly acknowledged her presence at all.
“Do you need anything else, m’lady?” he asked.
“Not at present,” her chaperone said.
Without a glance to Amanda, Carter bowed to Lady Mary, and exited the morning room.
The older woman settled into her chair and pulled a square of needlepoint from the basket. “What ails you? The doctor said your dog will be all right.”
“Reggie is my sister’s dog.” As Amanda had reminded the woman many times before. “And he is feeling much better. Only a little tired.”
Lady Mary stabbed a needle through her cloth. “Well, if your pup is doing better, then why are you blue?”
“Nothing of great importance.” Fingering the paper tucked in her sleeve, Amanda forced a smile. “I received an answer to a letter I wrote. It wasn’t to my liking.”
“I often receive letters not to my liking.” Lady Mary winced and sucked at the tip of her thumb. “The trick is to ignore what you don’t wish to hear until you get the answer you want.”
Amanda’s hand stilled on Reggie’s stomach until he whined in protest. She continued stroking him. “How does ignoring a marquess’s dismissal become an acceptance later?”
“Time is as transitive as the human heart.” Tugging on a purple thread, the woman grimaced until the string pulled through her square of fabric. “And acceptance and dismissals will both exist only until you decide to choose one.”
Amanda bit the inside of her cheek. She ran the words through her head again, but understanding remained elusive. She sighed. For a moment, she’d forgotten that Lady Mary was the one person in the house more cracked than Amanda. She was very sweet, but not someone to look to for advice.
“Who were you writing to, dear?” Licking her thumb and forefinger, Lady Mary rolled her fingers over the end of a green thread. She squinted one eye behind her spectacles and prodded the thread at the eye of her needle. “Maybe I know him and can put in a good word for you.”
“This letter is from the Marquess of Hanford.”
The bell for dinner sounded, and Reggie’s head perked up. He slid down from the settee, a little slower than usual. But if he was in the mood for table scraps, he must be better.
Amanda stood and waited for Lady Mary to rise. “I wrote five letters to the most prominent critics of reforming the law on capital punishment. Only the Marquess was considerate enough to send me a reply.”
The women trailed after Reggie to the east dining room. A footman held a chair out for Lady Mary, turned his back on Amanda, and went to his position by the door. Amanda pulled out her own chair.
“Did you explain how unfair the conditions were in prison?” The older woman glanced at the needle still in her hand and blinked. She tucked it into her fichu, the tail of green thread stark against the white linen. “I’m sure if they knew that innocent people were being sent to the noose, and children, they’d change the law very quickly.”
Amanda almost envied the woman. She was sweet and simple and assumed everything else in the world would follow the same course. How pleasant it must be to live in that fantasy.
“The Marquess seems to feel that if England lets one guilty man go unpunished, the whole of society will crumble.” Amanda watched the footman pour Lady Mary some wine and raised her own glass hopefully. He filled her cup, and Amanda’s shoulders relaxed. The servants’ rudeness hadn’t extended to outright refusal of service, at least not yet. Not where it would be noticed by the duke’s aunt or friend. She took a sip, and let the rich plummy flavor soothe some of her irritation over the letter. “Better that a few unfortunates suffer than all of society, he thinks.”
The two women sat back, and a second footman placed plates before them, steam still rising from the food.
Lady Mary dug into the beef medallion. “What nonsense. I don’t know the Marquess, otherwise I’d give him a right talking to.”
Smiling, Amanda fed Reggie a bit of beef. “I would enjoy seeing that.” Taking the roll from her plate, she tucked it into the pocket sewn into the skirt of her gown.
“What would you enjoy seeing?” Julius strode into the room and dragged his chair out before the footman could do so. He sank heavily into his seat and draped the white linen napkin across his lap. The fine lines that radiated from his eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into his skin. “I will take you anywhere you wish.”
Warmth coursed through Amanda’s body at the sight of him. An errant strand of hair crossed in front of his eyes, and her fingers itched to brush it back across his brow. It was rare that he would join her and Lady Mary for dinner, but perhaps he was coming to crave her company as much as she was his. Though lord knows they’d seen quite a lot of each other since their affair began. Day or night, Julius would find any excuse to strip her bare and tie her up. To Amanda’s mind, they had done everything together that a man and a woman could. Except for one thing.
She stared down at her plate. They’d never woken up together. Amanda always left his bed alone. Julius would find her soon thereafter to bring her a cup of chocolate and help her dress, but somehow it just wasn’t the same.
Lady Mary bounced in her seat and leaned forward, her sleeve knocking a roll to the floor. Reggie ambled away from Amanda, towards greener pastures. “She wants to speak with the Marquess of Hanford. Perhaps you could take her to Parliament so she could have a word with him?”
Julius’s eyebrows shot up over the rim of his wine glass. He leaned forwards. “Is that so? And what has the Marquess done to deserve such attention?”
Amanda adjusted the second fork next to her plate, making it even with its brethren. “Lady Mary is mistaken. I have no need to speak with the man. His response to my letter was quite sufficient to lay out his point of view on the issue.”
“And, pray tell, what issue was that?” Julius laced his fingers together, his two index fingers extended into a vee, and examined her. It was the type of examination that made Amanda squirm. Julius had done unspeakable things to her just last night, seen her in positions that should make her cheeks flame red with embarrassment, but it was his scrutiny now that made her uncomfortable.
She looked at the row of knives to the right of her plate, but those were all perfectly in line. Picking up a fork, she pushed her peas around. “I wrote to ask him to reconsider his position on that reform bill. He declined. Very politely.” The peas formed eight neat rows, with one green ball to spare. She popped the misfit in her mouth, and considered. The Marquess’s letter was more condescending than polite. But to a man of that stature, even responding to a disgraced woman was an act of great civility. She should be thankful.
“I see.” His eyes glittered darkly. She couldn’t read them. He dropped his gaze to her plate with its organized rows of vegetables. “Your beef is growing cold. Eat up.”
“Can’t you take her to Parliament?” Lady Mary persisted. “He’d have to listen if she explained things to him, face to face.”
“I couldn’t guarantee her reception, but as I said, I would take her anywhere she desired.” Julius sliced into his meat, and Amanda felt a corresponding cut to her heart. He knew as well as she that a trip to Parliament was nowhere in her future. Her jaunts into the garden were one thing. But that was a whole other kettle of fish from venturing into London. Just the thought of the immense buildings, the crowds of people, made her heart pound.
A trickle of sweat started at the nape of her neck and rolled under her collar. She pushed to her feet. Julius hastily stood, as well. “I’m not hungry this evening. I’ll bid you all goodnight.” The footman opened the door for her. “Come, Reggie.” She fled up the stairs, Reggie’s toenails slowly clicking behind her. He didn’t want to leave the table, but it was for his own good that she stopped him from eating too much. He didn’t need another stomach ache.
Shutting her door, she lifted her hand towards the key that rested in the keyhole. No. She stepped back. She wouldn’t let one disappointing letter and the thought of being lost inside Parliament make her slip into old habits. She’d already spent too much time in closets and behind locked doors. Being in her own room, the door closed, was enough.
But it wasn’t enough to keep out visitors.
Julius stepped into the room without knocking. He carried her dinner plate and a glass of wine. “You ate but two bites. You cannot be full already.” Placing the plate on the bed, he shooed Reggie away from the food. He patted the coverlet next to the plate. “Sit.”
Reggie’s haunches hit the floor, and Julius frowned at him.
“Thank you for your concern, but I truly do not want it.” The rich sauces from the duke’s cook didn’t usually sit well with her.
“I hardly ever see you eat.” Placing his hands on his lean hips, Julius narrowed his eyes. “You need food.”
“Do I look as though I’m starving?” Stalking to the window, she released the sash. The velvet curtain brushed past her fingertips as it fell closed. “Credit me with some sense. I do understand the importance of food for survival.”
“But …”
She pulled the roll from her pocket and raised it to eye level. “I may not eat in front of you, but I eat.” Walking to the escritoire, she lowered the desk lid and added the roll to a bit of cheese wrapped in cloth. She shut the escritoire firmly and turned to face him, arms across her chest.
His face softened. “You stash food away. I should have guessed.”
“It isn’t anything to concern yourself over. I just like to make sure …” She swallowed.
“That you don’t have to rely on your gaoler to feed you.” Julius stepped close and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know. I did it, too. When I was held by daimyo Muragachi.”
That was the first time he’d mentioned his imprisonment to her. She’d heard the rumors, of course. Even before her world had collapsed, before she’d killed her father in self-defense, she’d heard the stories of the Earl of Rothchild’s youngest son. The man who’d been captured while serving his country in the Royal Navy. Of the attempts to secure his release. Of his escape after three long years of imprisonment only for him to come home to find his father and brothers dead of typhus.
An accidental earl, and one that society whispered wasn’t right in his head since his capture.
Society was full of idiots. She’d always known that.
“What did he do to you?” She was frightened to hear the answer. Didn’t want those images in her head. But, like her, his imprisonment was a part of his being, and she wanted to know all of him.
Julius turned his head. “It’s not something a woman should hear.”
“Tell me anyway.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and he shook his head.
Amanda pinched her lips together. “Then tell me who daimyo Muragachi was,” she said, her tongue tripping over the unfamiliar words. “Why did he hold you?”
Julius closed his eyes, and Amanda didn’t think he would respond. Turning away, he pressed his palms flat on the bureau, his head sagging. “Muragachi was a local warlord. The magistrate of Nagasaki sent me to him to serve my sentence after I was captured from the HMS Phaeton. We’d sailed into Nagasaki harbor in order to ambush Dutch trading ships that were soon to arrive.” His fingers whitened as he dug his nails into the wood. “We had the superior force. The Japanese cannons in the harbor were old, most of them inoperable. Under a Dutch flag, we sailed into the harbor and waited like a spider for its fly as a tender with Dutch and Japanese representatives rowed out to welcome us. We captured the Dutchmen, but in the fight the Japanese jumped into the water and swam back to shore. I was knocked overboard, as well, and nearly senseless. I was taken, the only Englishman captured.”
“But if you had superior force, why were you not rescued?” How could he have been left behind? Wasn’t the British navy supposed to look out for their own? Her heart burned.
Julius snorted. “Superiority can be fleeting. The magistrate had sent for reinforcements. Eight thousand samurai and forty more ships. Captain Pellew knew he couldn’t be in the harbor when they arrived. He couldn’t risk the lives of two hundred and eighty men just for mine.” He was quiet a moment. “The Dutch trading ships didn’t even come that year. It was all for nothing.”
Amanda tapped her fist against her lips. She leaned against the desk for support. If he could remain stoic in the telling, she could for the hearing. With an effort. “And your imprisonment? You were there for three years, were you not?”
Pushing off the bureau, Julius turned and paced to the fireplace. “My imprisonment was … instructive. The samurai have turned ropework into an art form. I learned much by feeling the rope on me, and watching them tie it. Later, as I became more respected, they taught me their techniques.” He cocked a hip against an armchair. He smiled but it was twisted and bitter. “You have my gaolers to thank for our intimate pleasures.”
Amanda swallowed, tasting bile at the back of her throat. “How can you even look at a rope, much less use one?”
He stalked towards her. “How can you sleep in a wardrobe? How can you tolerate the ropes clinging to your body? If you can tell me that, I’ll try to come up with an answer for you.”
Holding her hands to her chest, she shook her head. She couldn’t explain any of it. She let out a shuddering breath. “If you ever want to talk about—”
“I won’t.” A muscle twitched in his jaw but otherwise his face was expressionless. She felt the wall he’d erected as though she’d run headlong into it. That didn’t mean she had to accept it.
She cupped his cheek, his skin warm and scratchy beneath her palm. “I’m sorry. You must think me so weak when you had to endure much worse.”
He stepped back, and her hand fell to her side. “It isn’t a competition, who had it worse,” he said gruffly.
Amanda nodded, her chest aching. Her heart thudded dully behind her breastbone, and she watched in resignation as he took another step away. As if her presence was a burden.
She was becoming confused again. Mixing up what she felt in his bed with what she felt for the man. Julius didn’t owe her his confidences. And he didn’t owe her tenderness. He was doing her a favor, teaching her of what was possible between a man and a woman physically, and nothing more.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned. “What—” He threw his shoulders back. “Reggie!”
The dog gave one last lick to the now clean plate and jumped off the bed. He kept to the walls as he trotted to the bedroom door and escaped.
Julius slammed the door shut behind him. “I can’t believe that animal belongs to Marcus. My friend breathes order and discipline. I would think his dogs would be better trained.”
“Reggie is my sister’s dog.” Amanda wrapped her arms around her sides. “Liz doesn’t mind a bit of spirit.”
“Yes, I noticed that about your sister.” He paced across the room. “But that doesn’t—” He froze. “What are you doing?”
Tugging at the shoulder of her dress, she tried to pull the buttons running down the back into reach. “I’m undressing. You are in my room and have closed the door.” She might not have his confidences or his love, but she had his body and she was determined to make the most of it. She twisted her arm behind her, her fingers brushing the fabric-covered buttons but not quite able to push them through their holes. Why had she let Julius dress her in such an impractical garment? All dresses should be made with buttons running down the front. It only made sense.
“And is that what you want?” He circled behind her.
Amanda dropped her arms and rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the ache. “Honestly, I am indifferent at the moment. But the world seems clearer when we are in bed together and I am less confused. Everything there is straightforward.” Striving to fulfill a physical need was simple, unlike satisfying her emotional state.
“Indifference is a poor argument for bedding someone.” He squeezed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “And that isn’t why I came to your room tonight. I have a request to make of you.”
“And it’s not a request for something special in …” She nodded her head at the bed.
“It is not.” Julius tugged at the knot of his cravat. “I want you to accompany me to a club tonight. I need to ask someone questions, and it will look better if I bring a guest with me.” He rubbed his earlobe. “As I won’t be engaging in my usual activity at this club, you will serve as a distraction of sorts.”
“You think it will look less like you’re a spy if you have a woman on your arm.” Sound reasoning, but they both knew he’d have to find a different woman. A woman who wouldn’t shake with terror from stepping out of doors. One who would stand by his side, laugh at his jokes, purr like a cat in heat under his attentions.
Amanda had a feeling she wouldn’t like this woman.
His jaw dropped open. “How did you … why would you …?”
She took pity. “My sister. She knows that her husband and his friends work for the Crown. Did you really think she wouldn’t tell me?”
He locked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “I hope you will be more discreet.”
Amanda stepped forward and poked his chest. “Liz isn’t running around telling everyone your business. Only me.” National security was important, but sisters didn’t keep secrets. Especially her and Liz. They’d agreed they would never keep anything from the other again. Not after Liz had discovered that their father had been abusing Amanda, and Amanda had never told. “And even if I were so inclined to gossip, which I’m not, who would I tell? I have no friends or associates.”
Julius looked at her with sad eyes and stroked her hair. She leaned into his touch, her flash of anger burning itself out. With a hand at her lower back, he led her to the bed and prodded her shoulders until she sat. He settled next to her, resting his bent knee on the mattress so he could face her.
“I trust you to keep my secret.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Will you help me tonight?”
She pulled his hand away from her face and clasped it between her own. “You know I can’t.”
“You won’t. There’s a difference.”
“Not to me,” she whispered. Her chest burned with shame. Her fear had never truly affected her before. She was content to live hidden away. Even her sister’s admonitions to leave the house didn’t sway her. But Julius had asked for her help, and she couldn’t give it.
For the first time, she wished she were brave.
With a finger under her chin, Julius tilted her face up to look at him. “You cannot spend the rest of your life within doors. You need to try to break out of your prison. And you’ve started. You hardly pause when you leave the house to go into the gardens now. Tonight will be a perfect opportunity to test yourself further. And I don’t think it will be as difficult as you imagine.”
“Why?” Her mind raced, searching for his angle. “Because my duty to my country will overcome my fears?”
He laughed, throwing his head back and exposing the thick column of his neck. Tapping her nose, Julius shook his head. “No, mouse. After what your country almost did to you, I don’t think you owe us anything.” Leaning close, he planted his hands on the bed by her hips, caging her in. “I think tonight you will find the courage because it won’t really be you leaving the house. It will be a different woman. An intrepid woman. A woman in disguise.”