Chapter Twenty-Four
Lord Warwick nodded to the jailer as the man turned to lead him down the row of cells.
“Here, M’Lord,” the man said as he inserted a key into the heavy iron door. “This one shouldn’t be a problem. As frightened as a trapped mouse, he is.”
Warwick nodded as the large jailer pulled the heavy door open to expose Freddie Bartholomew sitting scrunched up in the far corner, his hands wrapped around his knees. His forehead beaded with sweat despite the cold damp cell. His face as white as a Dover cliff.
“Freddie,” Lord Warwick said as he clucked his tongue. “You seem to have come into some difficulty.”
“My Lord,” the man said as he jumped up, his face twisting back and forth between hope and full-on terror. “Tell them, Tell them they have the wrong man,” he pleaded.
The prisoner's eyes darted to the door then back at him, obviously wondering if he might escape. Yes, just like a trapped mouse, Warwick thought. The jailer had been rather accurate.
He turned and nodded to his escort who pushed the door closed with a heavy clang. Warwick watched with an internal smile as Freddy’s face fell. The man deserved everything that was to come to him.
Warwick silently observed the man to confirm that his orders of good treatment had been carried out. It was not that he particularly cared for Mr. Bartholomew’s welfare. More that he believed he might gain more with a carrot than a stick. Besides, if the carrot didn’t work, he could always shift his approach.
“There is no hope for you, I’m afraid,” Lord Warwick said. “They have more than enough. Really, six hundred pounds. That is all it took to sell your country over to that Corsican monster. Lord Hicks has played you for a fool. You could have easily gotten more. Much more.”
Freddie’s eyes grew big, the fact that they had the exact amount he had received obviously came as a shock.
Warwick purposely turned his back on the man as he began to pace. Yes, he had chosen the right target, he realized. If any of them were to cooperate, it would be dear Freddie. But that was not why he had the King’s men arrest him.
No, this was all about pressure. While the arrest had been quiet, rumors would circulate. If necessary, he would start them himself. His men were in place. If any of the scoundrels tried to flee, his men were ready.
Once Hicks got word of Bartholomew’s arrest, Perhaps, if they were lucky, he would contact his conduit back to France. That was the key. The thing he needed most. And again, his men would be there.
If not, it would at least make tomorrow’s gala at Olivia’s rather exciting. If Hicks showed up, that was. Yet, it if he didn’t. It would almost be as if he were admitting he had something to hide. No, the man would be there. He believed himself too smart to ever be caught.
Even now, if Freddie talked. It would simply be his word against a Lord’s
No, Warwick thought as he continued to pace. They would need more.
“Freddie,” he said with a large smile. “Did you know that the punishment for treason is the ax. Not the noose. I small detail, but rather interesting, don’t you think.”
Freddie’s gulped as a trickle of sweat slowly rolled down his cheek. “What can I do?” he asked. “Anything, My Lord, anything.” The hopeful tone of his voice was belied by the fear in his eyes.
“Well, Freddie, maybe, just maybe,” Lord Warwick said, “I might be able to save your head and have you transported to one of the penal colonies. I am told that Australia can do wonders for a man’s health. At least when compared to the alternative.”
“Anything,” the prisoner said as he reached out and grabbed Lord Warwick’s hand. “Anything, I promise.”
Lord Warwick laughed to himself. This was Hicks’ fatal flaw, believing a traitor wouldn’t sell him out. Once a man had compromised his honor, it became so much easier to do it again.
“Well, Freddie,” Lord Warwick said as he pulled his hand out of the man’s grasp. Being touched by scum like this made him feel dirty. “I have a job for you. A simple task that I will explain later. But first, you must tell me everything. Names, dates, everything. And leave nothing out, I will know.”
The young man swallowed hard and then nodded. Lord Warwick shook his head, it had been almost too easy. But it was only because Amanda had discovered the remaining names that he could take this risk.
“Guard,” Lord Warwick yelled. “A table, chairs, pen, and paper. I do believe we are going to need a lot of paper. Aren’t we Freddie.”
The prisoners swallowed hard and slowly nodded.
.o0o.
Amanda closed her eyes as Molly pulled a brush through her hair. Stay calm, she thought to herself. It is only a dance.
“You are going to be the bell of the ball, Mum,” Molly said with a smile in her voice. “A princess. That shade of blue for your gown. A wise choice, it brings out your eyes Mum.
Amanda pushed up her spectacles and smiled at her maid in the looking glass.
Would Warwick like it, she wondered? That was the important question.
A week, she thought. It had been a week since he had left her. How was he? Had he made any progress? These and a thousand other questions danced in her head while she fought to calm a tumbling stomach.
Would she be able to keep their secret? How could she possibly be in the same room with him without everyone knowing how she felt. It would be written across her face.
Her stomach turned over with anticipation. They must maintain that veneer of cold detachment. But her heart would know. Her mind would remember.
Molly sighed heavily as she twisted her hair and wove in pins to keep it in place. “I really think you should let Anderson accompany you, Mum. The streets aren’t safe.”
Amanda stopped herself from shaking her head to make sure she didn’t pull a stray wisp from her maid’s hand. They had repeatedly had this conversation. Molly had taken on an obsession. But Amanda refused.
“Have you thought of getting a carriage, Mum,” Molly said as she tucked and poked. “Anderson could ride on the back, like a proper footman.”
Amanda couldn’t stop herself from shaking her head this time.
“No, Molly, no carriage. If I got one, it would mean hiring a coachman, and a stable boy to care for the horses. No, a hired cab is more than adequate.”
The maid pouted as she slowly nodded, obviously giving up for the moment, but Amanda well knew the argument had not ended. It would be brought up again and again until she probably gave in.
“There,” Molly said as she stepped back and examined her work. “You are beautiful. Will Lord Warwick be there Mum?”
Amanda’s heart jumped at the mention of his name. Did Molly know something? No, impossible.
“I am sure he will be,” she answered. “He is good friends with Lord Bradford after all. Why do you ask?”
Molly smiled as she reached up to wipe away a stray piece of dust from her mistress’s gown as her cheeks grew slightly pink.
“It is just that the other morning, Mum. When I came to wake you. I found you tossing and turning as if your sleep was troubled and you called out his name. As clear as day, Mum. I thought…”
Amanda froze, what had she said in her sleep? Her heart slammed into her chest as she fought to take in a deep breath. No, this could not be. She must put her off, Molly could not be allowed to think such a thing was possible.
Forcing her shoulders into a shrug, Amanda shook her head. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean. I’m sure you are mistaken. Why would I call out for Lord Warwick? Really, Molly, you do need to work on that overactive imagination of yours. It is unbecoming in a lady’s maid.”
Molly examined her closely for a long second then looked down. “I don’t know Mum, maybe I was mistaken. You were asleep after all.”
Amanda sighed heavily. “Tell Anderson to get a cab. I want to get there early to help Lady Bradford.”
Molly nodded as she quickly dropped a curtsey then turned to leave.
“And Molly,” Amanda said as the maid’s hand pulled the door open. “Thank you, I do believe you are right, I do feel like a princess. Thank you.”
The maid smiled, obviously relieved to see that her mistress was not upset with her. She dropped a curtsey again and left to tell Anderson to get a cab.
Amanda sighed as she forced her heart to slow down. Molly didn’t know anything and eventually, she would stop dreaming about Lord Warwick. Eventually, this pain in the bottom of her soul would disappear. At least she prayed that it might.
As the cab pulled to a stop in front of the Bradford’s home Amanda took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
“Just make it through the night,” she whispered to herself. She could do this.
Thanking the Bradford’s footman for handing her down, she stepped into the house to find a beehive of activity. Lady Weston was directing the staff as if it were her house. Olivia glanced at Amanda and rolled her eyes.
Amanda had to bite back a laugh. Somethings never changed.
Between Lady Weston. An expert in such things if you asked her. Lady Alice, Nathanial’s wife and actual mistress of the house, and Olivia who had grown up there and been in charge before Lady Alice’s arrival. It must all confuse the staff immensely.
“I came early to help,” she told her friend. “But it looks as if everything is well in hand.”
Olivia smiled as she took Amanda’s hands in hers and leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “Bradford has sworn that Lady Weston would put General Wellesley to shame when it comes to organizing a campaign.”
Amanda let herself laugh.
“Come,” Olivia said, pulling her towards the parlor. “We can wait in here. Benson should be announcing dinner very shortly. I have talked to Cook and we will be done with plenty of time to freshen up before the guests for the dance arrive.”
Amanda nodded. Olivia ran a tight ship. She had learned how at an early age.
“Is everyone here?” Amanda asked as she held her breath.
Olivia nodded, “Everyone except for Lord Warwick. He sent word that he would be late, but promised to make the dance.”
Amanda’s soul relaxed. A small reprieve she thought. It would be so much easier to hide her feelings in a room full of people.
“It is strange though,” Olivia continued. “He asked that an additional guest be added to the list. Besides Lord Hicks who he had already requested. I must say, the man has more secrets than my brother. A fact I thought I would never see.”
Amanda's stomach dropped. Had he requested his new lover be invited. Some beautiful widow. A woman with whom he could dally and the ton not become upset.
“Who did he want you to invite?” she asked as she held her breath.
Olivia’s brow furrowed in doubt. “A Mr. Frederick Bartholomew. I have never heard of him. Have you?”
Amanda’s stomach fell. What was the man up to?
“No, I don’t believe I do,” Amanda answered as she frantically tried to calm her racing heart. The man was playing with fire. They had already tried to kill him because they believed he was getting too close. She had a faint stain on the floor in her hallway that proved it.
What would Lord Hicks do if he saw him with Freddie Bartholomew?
Just what she needed this night. One more thing to worry and fret about. It was bad enough just seeing Lord Warwick again, but now she needed to worry about his safety as well.
It was going to be a long evening.