Chapter Seven
Amanda paid the coachman and marched up to the Caldwell’s front door. If this was going to work, she was going to need help.
“Miss Amanda,” Benson, Nathanial’s London butler, said with a smile when he answered the door. “Please come in. I must inform you though that Mr. Caldwell and Lady Alice are away.”
She nodded her understanding. “In addition, while Lord and Lady Bradford will be staying with us this season, they, and His little Lordship, young James, are not due to arrive until next week.”
Amanda returned his smile as she removed her bonnet. “Is Lady Weston receiving?” she asked. She well knew that Olivia was returning next week. No, it was Lady Weston she needed for this.
“Of course,” Benson said. “In the parlor.” Turning, the butler led her across the huge entrance way. Amanda smiled to herself. That oh so familiar scent of candle wax and wood oil seeped into her like a long lost friend. The Caldwell house had always been a second home. The staff kind and welcoming to her.
But, that didn’t mean things would go easily today. She must be careful, old Lady Weston was nobody’s fool. The woman could spot a subterfuge at a hundred paces.
“Miss Amanda Waters,” Benson announced formerly as he opened the parlor door.
“Amanda,” Lady Weston said with a welcoming smile from the settee, “What a pleasant surprise.”
Evan at an advanced age, the woman looked stiff and regal, Amanda thought. Straight back, raised chin. As if the older woman were carved from stone. Lady Alice’s mother, the woman had provided a helping hand to Olivia and Amanda during there coming out.
Her knowledge of the ton and all of its mysterious workings had proven to be invaluable. Exactly the person I need to help me, Amanda thought.
“Lady Weston,” Amanda said as she gave a quick curtsy. “I pray I find you doing well.”
“Yes, Yes,” the older woman said as she patted the cushion next to her. “As well as an old lady can expect. Sit here, my dear, so I don’t have to strain to hear you.”
As Amanda approached, she noticed that Lady Weston’s brow furrowed in thought. Obviously trying to understand why I am here, Amanda realized. She’s already trying to figure out the puzzle.
While Amanda sat, Lady Weston said to Benson, “Some tea, and those cakes if there are any left.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Benson said with a bow before backing out of the room.
Lady Weston turned to Amanda and gave her a wide smile as she gently placed her hand on her knee.
“Tell me, are you doing well my dear? I worry about you, alone in that house. It doesn’t seem right. I am sure your father would not approve.”
Amanda sighed internally. What would Lady Weston think if she knew that Amanda had a British Lord locked up in the room next to hers? Half-naked, no less. The woman would faint from the vapors. Either that or laugh and congratulate her.
“Perhaps you are right, I have thought of hiring a footman,” Amanda said, no need to get into an argument. A few simple words and they could move past the matter.”
Lady Weston nodded, “If you do, be sure to hire a handsome one. I don’t know why, but they seem to make the best footmen.”
Amanda fought to not roll her eyes. Be careful, she needed this woman. Besides, it was just Lady Weston’s way. There would be no changing her at this point in her life.
The two women halted talking as Benson returned with the tea. Once he was gone and as she poured out, Lady Weston looked over at Amanda and raised an eyebrow.
“Now you must tell me why you came today. And please, don’t say it was just to visit an old friend. Or that you were worried about me here alone with the family gone.”
Amanda took a deep breath, obviously, there would be no small talk. No way to lead up to the subject gently. Instead, she would have to attack it head-on. “Did you receive an invitation to Lord Hicks’s ball this next Wednesday?” she asked as she held her breath.
Lady Weston’s eyes narrowed as she leaned back, obviously surprised. Gathering herself she nodded, “I believe so, Nathanial is invited to almost everything. People hope to be included in his circle of friends. It can be quite lucrative. So yes, probably. But why do you ask?”
Taking another breath, Amanda held it for a second, this was the critical part.
“Because I was wondering if I might attend with you.”
Lady Weston stared at her for a long moment, her mind obviously whirling with thoughts. At last, she said, “I had not planned on attending. I mean, he is only the third son of a particularly obnoxious Duke.”
Amanda’s heart sank, of course the woman wasn’t planning to attend. She was ancient, the last thing she would want to do was attend a ball while Alice and Olivia were out of town.
“Why, dear?” Lady Weston asked, once again resting a hand on her knee. “Why is it important that you attend this dance?”
Here goes, Amanda thought to herself. Her first lie. Blushing slightly, she looked down at the hands in her lap. “I believe a man I know might be attending. I thought, perhaps …”
Lady Weston smiled broadly which then quickly turned over to a frown. “Who. Surely not Lord Hicks, the man is short, and not particularly bright. Not your type at all. Besides, he will never rise to a title. Too many brothers and nephews in the way.”
“No, no,” Amanda said, pushing her spectacles back to up on the bridge of her nose. A quiet fear ate at her stomach, nervous and afraid that Lady Weston would draw the wrong conclusion.
“Then who? I can assure you Lord Warwick will not be there. He doesn’t attend such things unless forced to and Lord Hicks doesn’t have that kind of power, I assure you.”
Amanda frowned. “Lord Warwick? Why would you think I was interested in Lord Warwick?”
Lady Weston “I thought …”
“No, no,” Amanda said quickly. “Lord Warwick is a notorious rake. Domineering, with an opinion of himself that is not justified, I assure you. No, only a fool would be interested in Lord Warwick. I haven’t seen him since Lady Alice’s ball a few months ago. Besides, the man will never marry, he has told me so more than once.”
Lady Weston pursed her lips for a moment then smiled slightly. “Of course, my dear. It is always nice to see a young woman who knows her own mind. Then who, might I ask?”
Amanda took a quick breath, she was still trying to understand why Lady Weston would think she could possibly be interested in Lord Warwick. It had to be the most ridiculous idea ever.
Pulling herself back to the conversation she sighed and said, “I would prefer not to name him yet. It is still early and I wouldn’t want to look the fool. But I assure you, he will be there that night.”
Lady Weston studied Amanda over the top of her teacup then nodded. “Of course my dear, I would enjoy an evening out. But at some point, you must inform me who this mysterious man is. After all, we can’t have you marrying just anyone. No, my record with young women is rather good. Just ask Alice and Olivia. I won’t let you give bad marks to my reputation as a matchmaker.”
Amanda laughed gently. That was the Lady Weston she knew and loved. And she had achieved her goal. Entry to Lord Hicks’s house. Now it would only be a matter of figuring out what she was looking for.
.o0o.
Amanda curtsied as she thanked Mister Hawthorn for the dance. He smiled back as he bowed at the waist. Very tall, and very thin, the man reminded her of a crane.
“I say,” he began with a bit of a pompous tone that set Amanda’s jaw on edge. “I am rather pleased to see you here tonight Miss Waters. Very pleasantly surprised.”
How did he make a compliment to her sound like it was all about him? As if she should feel privileged that he felt surprised. And why did all these men seem so … so? … Lacking. As if they were empty with no meaning. She had always thought the men of the ton to be less than ideal. But, now, after being with Lord Warwick and realizing who he was, it made the men of the ton seem even less.
Sighing internally, she gave the man her best pretend smile. The one she saved for people she didn’t particularly enjoy but society demanded that she treat kindly.
“Will Mister Caldwell be attending tonight?” He asked, sending a cold chill down her spine. Now she knew why the man had asked her to dance. Was this what Olivia went through, she wondered? This constant awareness that people were using her to get to Nathanial. No wonder Olivia fell in love with Bradford. The one man who didn’t try to use her.
“I don’t believe so,” she responded. “I believe he returns to town next week.”
“Oh,” was all that Mister Hawthorn said. But the disappointed tone exposed exactly how he felt.
Amanda opened her fan as she searched the room for Lady Weston. The sooner she got back to her, the sooner she could dispose of this oaf.
Lady Weston smiled secretly as she welcomed Amanda back to her side.
“Well, I know that is not the man,” she said with a quick laugh. Then, seeing Amanda’s questioning look, she continued, “No woman in love ever looked at a man like he was last weeks pudding. At least not until she had been married to the idiot for a few years.
Amanda laughed as she fluttered the fan in front of her face to hide her amusement. It wouldn’t do for Lady Weston to discover there was no such man.
“There is our host,” Lady Weston said, shifting the subject as she nodded across the room. “Talking to that Simpson woman. I do believe she attends every event. She is afraid that if she doesn’t come to these, people will forget her. And now that I think of it, she is probably right.”
Amanda glanced to where Lady Weston had nodded. She was correct. Lord Hicks was in a close discussion with Lady Simpson. The man’s face was focused as if every word she said was of the greatest importance. The countess looked slightly angry.
She’s probably upset that Lord Hicks won’t give her the latest bit of gossip.
Now is my time, Amanda thought. I can’t put it off any longer and there will be no better opportunity. Her chest tightened up with fear. If she failed, then men would die. Or worse, if she was discovered, it might very well expose Lord Warwick somehow.
She must be very careful, too much depended upon this.
Turning to Lady Weston, she leaned forward so she could whisper, “If you will excuse me, I will be back in a moment.”
Lady Weston nodded, “The room is off to the left, but you might have to wait, there will be a bit of a line.”
Amanda hid her smile, let Lady Weston think she was using the facilities.
As she made her way into the hall, instead of turning left, she turned right. She had located Lord Hicks’s study earlier in the evening by asking a footman. Telling him that she was to meet her friend by the door to the study.
The footman had given her the information without a second thought. Just another silly woman. No reason to think she would dare intrude into a Lord’s study.
Reaching the door, she stopped and looked around. Like all of the interior doors, it was not lockable. But then, why would a Lord need to protect his study?
The only other people in sight were two women at the far end of the hall. Both of them with their backs to her. Now, she told herself as her hand took the doorknob.
And with that, she was in.
Once on the other side, she rested her back against the door and tried to get her bearings. Her heart was racing so much she was rather sure it would pound its way out of her chest. What was she doing? This was madness. If she was discovered, how could she ever explain herself?
You are a woman, she told herself. Tell them you were hoping to meet your lover. They will believe that a lot sooner than think you were helping to catch French spies.
The silver moonlight shining through the windows provided enough light for her to find a lamp and light it.
The lamp cast the room in a yellow glow. She must hurry, she thought as she twirled around. Searching. A typical man’s study. The walls lined with books. A desk and chair. Two chairs this side of the desk. Another by the fire.
Warwick had mentioned a paper. Her heart fell. It could be anywhere. Tucked inside a book? The desk? A different room entirely. Where?
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to think. Where would she hide a paper that she didn’t want to be found?
Not in a book. Someone might pull it off the shelf. The paper dropping out and fluttering to their feet. No, not a book.
Sighing, she made her way to the desk, placing the lamp on the corner.
The man was tidy. Nothing on the desk but a quill and ink. As empty as a parson’s purse. Reaching down, she opened a drawer only to be shocked when it squeaked loudly. Freezing in place, she held her breath, waiting for Lord Hicks to rush in and accuse her.
After the longest ten seconds of her life, she finished pulling the first drawer out and searched inside. Nothing. Moving on, she searched each drawer, but there was nothing that looked like it might have anything to do with France, or spies, or anything nefarious for that matter.
The drawers were not locked which probably meant she was looking in the wrong place.
“No ledger,” she mumbled to herself. Every man she knew with a study kept a ledger. A place to track expenditures and receipts. She could still remember her father tallying up the book every Monday night. Teaching her the majesty of double entry bookkeeping.
But nothing, no ledger. Did Lord Hicks have one, or was it located somewhere else in the house? Her insides threatened her. The pressure was intense. She must find it, soon. Every second meant a greater chance of discovery.
Where? She wondered as she looked up at all the books on the shelf. No, that didn’t make sense. Then she remembered something her father had done one time. When she was a little girl. Her father had helped her write a note for her mother. A birthday letter. She remembered how proud she had been and how afraid she was that her mother would discover it before her birthday.
Her father had pulled out a drawer and showed her how to hide it along the side.
“She’ll never discover it there,” her father had told her.
Quickly bending down, Amanda pulled out the drawers again to search along the side.
Nothing.
Her heart fell. She couldn’t give up, not yet.
Then, thinking perhaps Lord Hicks was more concerned about his paper that her father had been about her birthday card. She felt underneath each drawer.
There, on the third attempt, she felt a smooth piece of leather.
Pulling the drawer out, she rested the end on the desk as she looked underneath. And gasped. A slim piece of leather had been tacked to the bottom of the drawer. And inside the leather pouch, a piece of paper folded lengthways.
Glancing up at the door to make sure she wasn’t going to be discovered, Amanda gently removed the piece of paper.
Her heart jumped when she recognized what it was. A list of initials, a list of corresponding payments. At least that was what they appeared to be to her. Figures in the several hundred pound range. Written in a formal, male hand.
Her heart jumped into a higher speed. Was this it? Was this what Warwick was looking for?
A noise outside the study made her heart crash. A slight bump. It could mean anything, she told herself as she froze and waited. If they found her now, like this. There would be no way to lie her way out of it. They would know what she was doing.
Would they hurt her? She was a woman. Surely, a British aristocrat wouldn’t hurt her. But then she thought of that dead man and Warwick getting shot. And what would happen to Lord Hicks if he was found out? It would be a noose for sure. Or worse, the chopping block.
Yes, he would kill her without a second thought. The realization sent a cold shiver through her entire body.
Hurriedly, she put the piece of paper back into its pouch. If she took it, Lord Hicks would know she had been there. He would know he had been discovered.
Another footstep in the hall made her insides quiver. Leaning over, she blew out the lamp. Perhaps she could escape in the dark. Holding her breath she waited.
And waited, until she realized that no one was coming. She let out a long sigh as she tried to calm her racing heart and frantic breath. She was not designed to be a spy, she realized. She could well imagine Warwick would have handled this so much more calmly.
Returning to the study door, she held her ear next to it, searching for any sign of someone on the other side. Once she was relatively sure it was clear, she slipped back out and returned to Lady Weston.
The older woman watched her approach and then said, “Lord Crawford? Is that the man?”
Amanda froze for a second until she realized her friend was still trying to discover her non-existent secret love. She cast her mind out as she tried to remember who Lord Crawford was. A young brother to an Earl she believed. Smiling at Lady Weston she raised her eyebrows and smiled.
If Lady Weston was still worried about matchmaking. Then she had no idea of what was really going on.
For the first time that night, she relaxed. Wait until Warwick heard what she had found was her only thought.