Chapter Twenty-One
Lord Warwick pushed the hair from his eyes as he nodded, waiting impatiently for her to continue. Had that amazing mind of hers discovered something useful?
“What day was New Year’s?” she asked him.
He smiled and said, “Normally it is on January first.”
She playfully slapped his shoulder. “The day, not the date.”
He frowned for a moment as he tried to recall.
“Wednesday,” she said, “Christmas was on a Wednesday. So New Years was on a Wednesday. I remember because Cook’s normal afternoon off is Wednesday and I felt bad so I gave her Tuesday afternoon off as well for Christmas.”
He continued to nod. All right, that was understandable. But what was its significance?
“The dates,” she said with a huge smile, “The dates listed on the list. Each of them falls on a Wednesday. I couldn’t understand what was bothering me until I realized they are multiples of seven between dates.”
Had she found it? And if they were on Wednesdays. What was the significance?
He needed proof. While she might very well have everything memorized in that pretty head of hers. He needed to see it in writing. He threw the blanket aside and rolled out of bed to retrieve his leather portfolio.
“What is that?” she asked him as he pulled it from the top dresser drawer.
“My notes, my reports on this case.”
She frowned at him. “You brought them here?”
He shrugged. “I had hoped to discuss things with you. But, I became … distracted, shall we say.”
Her cheeks turned very pink as she looked away. In fact, the blush spread down her body to that delicious chest as hers. So sweet, he thought. That enticing mixture of innocent and brazenness.
Sitting down next to her on the bed, he opened the portfolio and removed the list she had gotten from Hicks’ study.
“You are right, they are multiples of seven days apart. Either a week, or as much as four weeks, but always in multiples of seven days apart.”
“That is what I said,” she commented as she shook her head.
He laughed, “But, what does that do for us? So, he made his payments on Wednesday. How does that help us get any closer to identifying his accomplices.”
She smiled at him. That smile that let him know she had solved the puzzle.
“Lord Hicks always has his social events on Wednesday. Whether it is a full-on gala or a simple dinner party. Each of them, always on Wednesday. It is one of his eccentricities that he is known for. Something about a family tradition.”
Warwick frowned as his heart began to race. “No, the man couldn’t be that stupid. He invited his co-conspirators to his own house where they gave him valuable information and he paid them. Under the guise of a social event. It would be idiotic.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Can you think of a better way to do it. If he were to meet them in some out of the way place, a dark alley, or the back room of a pub. Too many people would see him coming and going. His chance of being discovered would be much higher. And he would look guilty as sin.”
He nodded, the woman was right, besides, if he made the payment in his own home, he could sluff it off as a gambling debt. Nothing to worry about.
“Oh, my God,” he exclaimed as he dove into the portfolio and frantically began removing the reports from his men. He started flipping through them until he found the small bundle tied up with string.
“I have a list of every person who has attended an event at Lord Hicks home for the last eighteen months. One of his footmen. The man killed the night I was shot. Over the last year, he has provided me with a list of visitors to the house.”
Her eyes grew very big. “We can match them up to the initials.”
He smiled back at her as he untied the knot and removed the pile of notes. “Give me the first date.”
“January Twenty-First,” she said. Obviously recalling it from memory “But LS is listed for that date. Lady Simpson. We already know about her.
“The next then,” he asked
“Here,” she said as she leaned across him to retrieve her spectacles from the bedside table and put them on.
He froze for a second. There was something about a beautiful, naked women wearing spectacles that drove him to forget where he was and what he was doing.
She ignored him as she removed the bundle of papers from his hand. “Let’s spread them out. Give me all the dates.”
He leaned back and glanced at her as she bent over and started laying them out on the foot of the bed. Remarkable, he thought. The woman had taken control of his case. Laughing to himself, he read out the dates. That picture of her, her breasts exposed as the blanket fell to her waist, and those gold glasses perched on the tip of her nose, would remain with him for the rest of his life.
Amanda quickly put aside those dates that did not correspond to a set of initials. Then she gathered those that applied to Lady Simpson, Freddie Bartholomew, and Victor Barclay into a second set of papers. Leaving only seven slips of paper remaining on the bed.
“Now then,” she said as she lifted the first of the remaining papers. “What are the initials that correspond with March Seventeen?”
He looked down the list in his hand and said, “CR.” The woman probably knew the answer before she asked him. She had undoubtedly asked only to make him feel as if he were involved
She looked at the footman’s guest list and smiled broadly as she held it for him to see. There on his report was the name, “Cecil Ridgetop”
He nodded. “A merchant. Rather rich. Has a big government contract to supply boots for the soldiers. Out of the Midlands. He would know every detail of every contract the government was considering. How many men were being deployed and where.”
Amanda set aside the piece of paper.
“And March Twenty-Fourth?”
Lord Warwick held his breath as he told her, “DH.”
“David Hawthorn,” She gasped. “I danced with him, that night, the night I got the list. He’s a Lawyer I believe, works in the home office.”
Lord Warwick ground his teeth, the thought of her dancing with another man bothered him to the very bottom of his soul. He well knew he had no right to be jealous. But that did not change the burning hate building up inside of him.
Was that why she was so willing to end things between them? Had she already lined up his replacement?
He was going to particularly enjoy having the King’s men take David Hawthorn. He would particularly enjoy watching the man walk to the gallows.
“Yes,” he told her as he forced himself to remain calm. “David Hawthorn, Esquire. Works in the home office. In fact, I believe he is responsible for working out the problems between landowners and the army when it comes to new fortifications and other matters.”
Amanda shook her head, “How can these people do it? Mr. Hawthorn seemed perfectly normal. A little pompous perhaps, but … I danced with a traitor. It seems unfathomable.”
He smiled at her, “You have had a rather … unfathomable … few weeks I imagine.”
She glanced up from her papers and blushed. But then she quickly looked back down at the reports, obviously choosing not to acknowledge his comment.
“And March second?” she asked, changing the subject as quickly as she could.
He laughed, “RH.”
Her brow knit into tight furrows as she slowly shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “None of the other initials. The ones we already know are not on the list either.”
His stomach dropped, they were so close. He needed that last name. If any one of them escaped there was no telling how much damage they could do.
“What about April seventh?” he asked.
She scanned the list and shook her head. “No. the only name that appears twice is a Lord Broadmoor. But no RH.
Lord Warwick’s brow creased as he removed the list from her hand and studied it. They had to be there. Everything was working.
As his eyes scanned down the list it hit him.
“Reginald Hardy,” he said as a sense of satisfaction settled over him.
Amanda raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to explain.
“Lord Broadmoor, formerly known as Reginal Hardy.” He told her.
“But he used an L when referring to Lady Simpson. Why not use an L this time for Lord.”
“Because,” he replied. “Hicks thinks of him as Reginald. They went to school together. Hardy only recently came into his title. In Hicks mind, he will always be Reginald. The footman only knew him as Lord Broadmoor.”
“What use would he be to Napoleon?”
Lord Warwick shrugged, “I don’t know. He’s a landowner in the lake district. Lives here in London. But I can’t think of anything that he does that would tie him to anything valuable.”
Amanda nodded as she took a deep breath. “That’s it then. You have your seven people. One of whom is already deceased. So is it enough?”
He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Not yet, but it gives us a starting point. I will have my men begin digging. With this, I am sure we will find something.”
She smiled at him, obviously pleased that she could help.
“You have been invaluable, Amanda,” he said as he gathered up his papers and placed them back into the portfolio.
She smiled sadly as she looked down at her lap. “It is over then,” she said.
“What, the case or us,” he snapped, rather more forcibly than he had intended to. But there was an anger burning deep inside of him. How dare she dismiss him so easily.
Amanda looked up, catching his eye before he could hide his true feelings. She reached out and gently lay her hand on his knee.
“You know it has to be this way. You and I are from different worlds. But in both of them. Our exposure would hurt us to the very core. Olivia would no longer be able to be seen in my company. Lady Alice, Lady Weston, they would both have to disown me. Doors would be closed to me. You know how it works.”
He nodded slowly. She was right, but that did not make it any easier.
She laughed softly. “Besides, if Molly ever found out. I would never hear the end of it.”
The two of them looked at each other. “We have both said we would never marry,” she said with a strange look in her eyes. “This must end. If not now, when? Better it ends before we are discovered. That way we can say goodbye without regrets. Without recriminations.”
He nodded slowly but held his own counsel. The woman was wrong if he thought he was giving her up that easily. He sighed heavily and studied her for a long moment. She was so beautiful. So enticing.
Reaching up, he gently removed the spectacles and placed them on the table next to the bed. Her brow rose in question until she saw the grin of anticipation he gave her. Once she understood his intentions, she smiled softly and fell into his arms.
She might think this was there last night, he thought to himself as he took her lips with his. But he had not agreed to it. Not by a long shot.