Chapter Eighteen
Lord Warwick leaned his cane against his desk and sat down. He must return it to Amanda, he thought as his heart jumped just a little at the thought of seeing her again. Nine days, he thought. Nine days since he had snuck out of her house like a thief in the night.
He no longer needed the cane, yet he held onto it, unwilling to part with it for some unknown reason. It was surprising to him how often he thought of her. He found himself wondering what she was doing. What did she think of him? Was she safe?
Shaking his head, he scoffed at himself. He was a rake, he reminded himself. He and his friends had cut a wide swath through the ton. Mostly widows, and fallen women. Women who understood the rules.
Yet, Amanda was different. She had dismissed him, assured him she would make no demands. Yet he found himself wishing she would. Wishing she needed him. For something. Anything.
Upon his return home, he had contacted Sanderson, his lead operative and ordered him to have a man keep an eye on Amanda’s home. Just to make sure there were no ramifications from their inspection of Barclay’s. No one must know of her assistance in this matter. And if they learned of Amanda’s assistance, then his men needed to be in place to ensure nothing happened.
Pulling out the leather bound portfolio, he started examining the reports of his men. He had stationed them all through London. Reporting back to him the movements of Lady Simpson, Lord Hicks, and even Freddie Bartholomew, but until he matched the three set of remaining initials to actual people, there was little he could do.
If he moved too early against Hicks, the unknown traitors would disappear. And while he might be able to discover the truth from Hicks. Torturing a duke’s son was frowned upon. Liverpool and the Regent couldn’t afford to upset the House of Lords. Not at the moment.
It would do no good to squeeze Lady Simpson and Freddie, they wouldn’t know anything. Hicks would keep them all separate just so nothing could be discovered.
No, he must have an iron clad case and he must have all of their names. But how? he wondered for the thousandth time.
As he studied the papers in front of him his mind began to wander. What would Amanda make of all this? Perhaps she could see some pattern that eluded him.
His butler Peters rapped on the door and stepped into the room.
“Miss Olivia’s, … I am sorry. Lady Bradford’s invitation you were waiting for, My Lord,”
Warwick took the envelope without saying a word. Bradford and Olivia were back in town and would be giving a ball. They always did upon their return. He needed to know when.
Opening the envelope, he nodded to himself. Thursday of next week. Good.
Sitting back he reviewed his plan. Peters waited silently, he had learned long ago to let his Lordship alone at moments like this.
Whoever had shot him, most likely at Lord Hicks orders. May or may not know he had survived. It was probably best that he assume they knew he still lived. He wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near Hicks.
Yet, he needed to talk to the man. Needed to put fear into his soul. Perhaps that would make the man make a mistake. Give away some hint, expose a vulnerability.
“Peters,” he said to his butler. “Can you please ask my mother to send a note to Lady Bradford and request an invitation be sent to Lord Hicks.”
His butler frowned as he studied him for a moment then said, “My Lord, you are aware that Lady Bradford is here now, visiting your mother.”
“What?” Lord Warwick said as he sat up straight.
“Yes, My Lord, along with Lady Weston, and Miss Waters. They are in the parlor.”
“What?” he said again as he scrambled up and headed towards the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The butler frowned. “Does My Lord wish to be informed about all of his mother’s visitors?”
Lord Warwick pulled himself to a halt as a cold shiver passed down his spine. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in his mother’s life. Shaking off the thought, he turned to his butler. “No Peters. But anything dealing with Miss Waters and I am to be informed immediately.”
Peters nodded slowly. “Of course, My Lord.”
Warwick wondered if that was a small smirk hidden behind his butler's eyes. Surely not. British butlers did not smirk. At least not in their employer's presence.
Lord Warwick ignored his butler as he snatched up Amanda’s cane, then thought better of it and returned it to its resting place before he hurried to the parlor. When he reached the parlor door, a sudden nervousness hit him like a cold slap in the face.
Shaking it off, he opened the door without knocking. The four women turned to see who had dared interrupt them. The four of them arranged around a tea set, each with a cup and saucer in their hands. He sighed internally when he caught the shock on Amanda’s face. Good, he wasn’t the only nervous one.
He smiled widely and bowed to them formerly. “Excuse me, Ladies,” he said, “Peters has just informed me that you were here or I would have stopped by earlier.”
His mother frowned at him while her guests each smiled their welcome at him. Lady Weston looked her normal frail self. But then the woman had looked frail and at death’s door for the last twenty years. She’d probably outlive them all.
Olivia looked hail and hearty. Married life and motherhood suited her. She glowed with happiness.
He slowly glanced at Amanda, she met his eyes for but a moment then quickly looked away. Why? He wondered. Was that guilt, or some other emotion she was trying to hide. He did notice that Olivia was observing them very closely.
Had Amanda told her friend of their time together. Women talked. But… No, he realized. Amanda would not have told her friend.
He must be careful with that one. Olivia had always been very observant and had a mind like a steel trap, nothing got by her. One hint of his liaison with her friend Amanda and she would be making reservations at St. Paul’s for a large wedding.
Why did that thought not terrify him as much as it should have?
“What do you want Warwick?” his mother asked with her world famous frown. “And don’t pretend you are being social. You despise such things.”
“Mother,” he said as if she had hurt him dearly. “Can’t I check in with my best friend’s bride. How is Bradford, by the way, My Lady.”
Olivia smiled broadly. “He is currently taking his son to the park.”
Lady Weston gasped. Olivia smiled at her. “Don’t worry, he is accompanied by the nurse and two footmen. I am sure he will be fine.
“It isn’t his competence I am worried about,” Lady Weston said as she shook her head. “It is the example he is setting. A father interacting with young children. What will people think?”
Olivia laughed. “Bradford rather enjoys it.”
Lord Warwick grimaced. Children. Who would have ever thought Bradford would be so … domestic. As he pondered his friend he caught Amanda staring at him. A quizzical expression on her face.
“And you Miss Waters. How have you been?”
She blushed for a moment, quickly pushed her spectacles back up onto the bridge of her nose and then quickly stared down at her hands. His heart jumped. The woman was so … fetching. So pure, so enticing, it was enough to almost make him forget where he was and who was there. Thankfully, he was not that far gone.
“Well, My Lord.” She said, her voice as sweet as an angel’s. “As per your suggestion, I have taken on a footman. A former doctor’s assistant, Mr. Anderson.”
Warwick’s eyebrows rose. That had not been in his reports he must have a talk with Sanderson. He well remembered the man standing in the back of the room while the doctor poked and prodded. The man was a small mountain, Amanda had chosen well.
“That is probably wise,” he said, “London is not a safe place as you know.” It pleased him to know that she had additional security. But he would have a check run on her man, just to make sure.
“True,” she replied. “Just the other week a man was shot very near my home. Twice, in fact.”
“Really,” Olivia said with surprise. “I hadn’t heard. Did you know him?”
Amanda paused for a moment and shook her head. “It happened at night, I assume the man was a scoundrel. Probably involved in something he shouldn’t be.”
Warwick bit back a smile. She lied well when she had to. That was something to remember.
The three other women nodded. It was a well-known fact that people who were shot were doing something they shouldn’t.
“As to your question mother. What am I doing here?” He said. “I had hoped to ask Lady Bradford to extend an invitation to Lord Hicks to her party next Thursday.”
Both his mother and Lady Weston frowned, Amanda grew very white, only Olivia looked at him with something close to understanding. He knew that she understood his need and wouldn’t ask questions. Her brother had trained her well.
“Of course, Lord Warwick. I will see to it today.”
“Why?” his mother asked before he could even relax at Lady Bradford’s agreement.
Before he could respond, Olivia jumped in. “Oh, Lady Warwick. I learned from my brother long ago not to get involved in his business dealings. I do believe half the investments made are started at ton balls. Don’t you Lady Weston?”
Lady Weston examined him for a long moment then nodded. “True, men do spend too much time at these things talking business when they should be paying attention to other, more important things. Such as finding a wife.”
Lady Weston made a point of looking at him and then glancing over at Amanda.
His stomach clenched into a tight ball. The room was a field of traps. One wrong move and everything would be ruined.
Forcing himself to smile nicely, he spent a few minutes socializing. All the while, keeping an eye on Amanda. What was she thinking? Was she unhappy that he had made an appearance today? Surely she would have known that was a possibility. If it bothered her, why had she come?
After he had spent the required time being nice and social he said his goodbyes.
“And Miss Waters,” he said as he reached the door and turned back to look at her.
She froze for a quick second, her eyes as big as melons, obviously terrified he was going to say the wrong thing.
He was sorely tempted to. The thought of the shock and discomfit he would cause was almost too tempting. But instead, he said, “If you will stop by my study before you depart. I have that book on Rome you were asking about.”
She visibly relaxed, then slowly nodded. “Of course, My Lord. Thank you.”
He smiled to her one last time and left. Only truly relaxing when he was safely out of the room.
Nine days he thought. It had been too long. He must see her again. It seemed Miss Waters had become a priority he could no longer put off.