Chapter Thirteen
Amanda wiped at a tear as the cab pulled away from his house. Her heart was breaking into a million pieces at the realization that she had lost him. He would disappear into his world and she would never see him again.
Oh, she might run across him at one of Olivia’s or Alice’s parties. But it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be just the two of them against the world.
As she sat back, her mind flashed back to their kiss. What it had felt like to be held by him. That sense of safety and security. That sense of need and want that had raced to her very core.
And now he was gone. Gone, like a wisp of wind. Something that couldn’t be held nor possessed.
Her cheeks grew warm thinking about the things she had wanted to do to him. What she had wanted him to do to her. What she still wanted. A desperate need filled her as she realized just how much she loved him.
Sighing, she wiped away another tear and looked out the window as London passed by.
Just think, she told herself. She had met with the Prime Minister and been treated as if she were of value. All because of Lord Warwick. He had enabled her to help. Allowed her to assist him and at no time had he dismissed her as unable or worthless. No, he had embraced her assistance.
How many men in today's world would do the same, she wondered to herself. Not many, she realized.
But it wasn’t just that. There was more, so much more. The way he smiled. How he refused to complain about his injuries. Pushing himself. Placing the needs of the country above his own wellbeing.
Her mind wandered to the nursing she had provided. To the way his body had looked. Hard, full of angles. How she wanted to press herself against him and never let go.
All of it reminded her of just how much she had lost.
When the cab pulled to a stop, she paid the driver and hurried inside. Molly was waiting for her, shooting her a look of concern.
“You took longer than I expected, Mum,” the maid said.
Amanda wanted to tell her it was because she had just had a meeting with the Prime Minister. Oh, the look on her maid’s face would be priceless. But, instead, she shrugged her shoulders as she began to remove her gloves.
“Cook has been holding your dinner, Mum,” Molly said as she took the hat and gloves.
Amanda nodded. “Let me freshen up. I will be down shortly.”
Molly frowned and studied her for a long moment. “His Lordship is home safe, I take it.”
Amanda nodded absently as she began up the stairs.
“It seems strange, Mum,” Molly said after her. “Not having a man in the house,” Her eyes looked up at her as if she were an injured kitten in need of attention.
Amanda’s heart fell. Her maid was right, it did seem strange not having him here. But she couldn’t let her feelings show. No one must ever know that she had fallen in love with Lord Warwick.
.o0o.
She was numb the first day. Her body tense and lost as she wandered around the house. She spent more time than necessary standing in what she would always consider ‘His’ room. Looking at the bed. Her mind wandering to what might have been.
The second day, she forced herself to do all the things she had delayed while nursing him. Letters that needed to be written. Discussing future menus with Cook and reviewing the supplies in the larder. Making out shopping lists.
On the third day, she moped. There could be no other word for it. She tried to put her feelings and thoughts away. Tried to bury them under a blanket of doubt. And failed miserably.
Surely she couldn’t be in love. She had always imagined that love only happened when both people felt it at the same time. Those silly stories of unrequited love had always seemed preposterous. How could any woman allow herself to fall in love with a man who did not love her in return?
No, surely she could not be such a fool.
Yet. Her days were filled with thoughts of him. Was he all right. Was he recovering or had he relapsed. Had an infection returned? Did he think of her?
These and a thousand other worries danced through her head each day, all day.
Her life had changed, she realized. It had become smaller, less important somehow. Spending her days reading, doing needlepoint, visiting friends. It all seemed so pointless. So without meaning.
Lord Warwick had opened up her world. But then walked away and left her to discover her own meaning.
Sighing, she pulled the thread through her work then looked up as Molly came in to light the candles. Her maid gave her a quick glance of pure concern. She had been like that for the last three days. Walking around as if on eggshells. Waiting for her mistress to become distraught.
Amanda gritted her teeth and focused on her work. She refused to dissolve into a puddle because some man didn’t care for her the way she cared for him.
“Cook has left for the night, mum.”
Amanda nodded, “Thank you. And you can retire for the evening as well. I will be going up soon.”
“Yes, Mum,” Molly said with a quick curtsy. She paused for a moment while she continued to stare at Amanda.
Sighing heavily, Amanda looked up from her work and raised an eyebrow, silently asking her maid to continue. All the while, her insides turned over. She so didn’t wish to talk about what Molly wanted to discuss.
But there was no way to stop her.
“Any word, mum. From his Lordship?”
Amanda gave her best smile as she shook her head. “No Molly. And I don’t expect we will.”
Molly shook her head and frowned heavily. “Men,” she barked as if that explained everything.
Amanda laughed. “Exactly.”
Molly gave her a weak smile and left. Amanda sighed. Another night alone. Perhaps she should hire a footman after all. The house seemed different without Lord Warwick in residence. Quieter, softer, without a hint of specialness.
Sighing again, she put her needlework aside and retrieved her book. Maybe she could become lost in it. If she was lucky, it might take her mind off the pain churning inside of her. Take her to some far off world that didn’t remind her of a certain British Lord.
After almost an hour of fighting with the book. Determined to accomplish something, a distant sound caught her attention. Was Molly up and about? Unusual for her. The girl worked so hard, she needed her sleep. Or had Cook returned? The woman had a key to the back door. Had she forgotten something?
Had she heard something? A floorboard creek perhaps? Frowning, she stared at the door.
Her heart jumped as the handle slowly began to turn.
Freezing in place, her breath caught as she forced herself to grab the fireiron. She raised it above her shoulder and waited. She would look ridiculous if it turned out to be Molly or Cook, she realized. But she didn’t lower her weapon. Lord Warwick’s world had exposed her to the true evil that lurked in London.
The knob stopped turning.
Had Lord Hicks and his henchmen discovered her involvement? Were they here for revenge?
Amanda’s heart stopped beating as the door slowly swung open.
Gripping the iron so tight her fingers ached, she waited.
Then, her world shifted as Lord Warwick stuck his head around the edge of the door and gave her a quick smile while holding a finger to his lips.
Amanda gasped. He was the last man she expected to see. Dressed in wool trousers, an off-white linen shirt and a rough brown jacket with a button missing. The hand that held his cane also held a small cloth bundle. He looked like any other London tradesman. Except he wasn’t. He was her Lord Warwick. The man that set her heart to racing.
His color was better, much better, she realized as she hurried to him. He stood straighter and was barely resting on his cane.
“Shush,” he whispered as he slipped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him.
“What are you doing here,” she hissed back as her heart jumped with pure pleasure. He had come back to her world. Once again, things felt as they should.
Lord Warwick smiled as he slowly examined her. Suddenly she realized that her dress was not one of her best. A high waisted muslin with a purple sash for a belt. She had not been expecting guests and her hair had fallen a bit in the back.
He didn’t seem to mind as he looked at her with pure pleasure. As if he was enjoying what he was looking at.
“I’m here to get you.” He said, again quietly.
Her heart skipped as her insides turned to mush.
“Get me?” she asked.
He smiled again. That little boy smile he got when he was about to do something he shouldn’t.
“I assumed you would desire to go with me when I examined Sir Barclay’s residence?”
Amanda gasped. Could it be true? Was he really going to include her?
“But,” he continued. “I need you to wear this.”
She watched as he unraveled the cloth bundle and shook out a maid’s gray uniform, white apron, and cap. She took the dress from him and frowned as she tried to understand.
“A disguise,” he said with that smile. “No one would suspect a downstairs maid of hunting French spies. The image doesn’t match.”
She snatched the clothes from his hand then pushed him to the door. He stopped for a moment and looked down at her. Her heart jumped at the hunger in his eyes. It was the kind of look that could set a woman’s soul on fire.
Sighing heavily, she closed the door on him and sent up a silent prayer to remain strong. Now was not the time.
Once he was outside, she hurriedly changed, folding her clothes and leaving Molly a note in case she did not return before she woke. Running a hand down over the dress and apron she felt different. Almost freer somehow. The gray dress had a much lower waistline, more feminine without being frilly. She often regretted the current fashions. They seemed to be designed to hide a woman’s best assets. As Olivia used to say. They made a woman look like a Greek pillar. Cold, and hard.
Why did these clothes make her feel less like a lady? As if less were expected of her. Almost as if the rules had been changed.
Putting the cap on, she stuffed her hair up under it as she smiled to herself. She liked disguises she discovered. They gave her a power. A power to be someone different.
She pulled the door open while she pushed her spectacles back up on the bridge of her nose. How many maids wore spectacles she wondered. Never mind. Do not bring it up, it might make him change his mind.
Lord Warwick turned and examined her from head to toe then nodded his approval.
“Perfect,” he whispered with a smile.
She wondered if he was talking about her disguise or about her. Oh, how she hoped it was the later.
“Molly usually removes her apron if she is leaving the house,” she told him, being careful not to wake her maid.
“Leave it,” he replied. “It sends the message we want to send.”
She bit back a dozen questions as her mind raced. Instead, she simply smiled and raised an eyebrow.
“Come,” he said as he took her hand and led her to the back door.
“How’d you get in?” she asked as they entered the kitchen.
He laughed as he held up a twisted piece of wire, “We must get you better locks. In fact, perhaps a castle with a moat.”
Her stomach clenched up. Was it really that easy to break into her home? Had she been relying on a false sense of security all this time?
Lord Warwick slowly pulled the back door open and poked his head out, scanning her yard before opening the door all the way and pulling her outside into the dark night.
“We will get a cab a few blocks over,” he whispered. “No need for anyone to associate us with this address.”
She nodded, he knew every trick she realized. How long had he done this kind of work? What must it be like to always be on your guard? Never able to relax. Constantly transitioning between two worlds.
The two of them hurried down the path to the back gate. Or at least as fast as Lord Warwick’s limp would allow them. Hand in hand. Then into the alley. A quarter moon gave them just enough light to see faint obstacles.
London had started introducing coal gas lamps in some of the areas. But on the main streets only. The back alleys had remained as dark as pitch.
Amanda had never been out in such darkness. Most homes hung lanterns in the front of the house. Giving the street enough light. But here, back in the alleys. It was cast in darkness. A shiver ran down her back as she realized just how dark it was. They could be attacked without warning from any of a dozen pockets of blackness.
Lord Warwick gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and led her down the alley. The tap of his cane echoing off the brick walls. Then, across a street and into another alley. The man seemed to move as if he were in his own living room.
Once they were safely away, he flagged a cab. The driver pulled to stop and frowned down at them as if asking how two such people, obviously of the lower class, could possibly afford a cab.
Lord Warwick tossed up a silver coin. The driver caught it mid-air and nodded. Warwick gave him an address and opened the door to hand her up.
Amanda climbed up and scooted across to give him room. He climbed up after her. She smiled to herself as she saw how well he was moving.
“You are recovering quickly,” she said to him as she moved her dress out of the way for him to sit.
“I had a good nurse,” he replied as he settled down next to her, his leg resting against hers.
A warm sensation settled over her. The scent of sandalwood and leather engulfed her, making her want to sink into him and never come out. Sighing heavily, she slipped her arm into his and leaned against him for a moment.
“I missed you,” she said before she could stop herself.
He laughed. “You missed having someone to boss around. Admit it.”
She laughed with him, “Perhaps.”
The cabbie flicked his whip and the horse started off, the heavy clop of its hoofs clacking against the cobblestones.
“Why?” she asked. “Why did you come for me?” The question had been bothering her since his arrival.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “It just seemed the right thing. It shouldn’t be dangerous. Liverpool has had the house under guard. If anyone is watching, we will be two workers entering. Probably to clean up the mess.
“At this time of night?”
He shrugged again.
She settled back and thought about what was happening. Lord Warwick had come to her for help. Could any woman be luckier than herself?