Chapter Nine
Amanda paced back and forth in her parlor. Why had he kissed her? What did it mean?
Granted, the man had been cooped up in that room for almost two weeks. Was that it? Was he bored? Or was it a way for him to gain control?
Her cheeks flushed because if it was, it had worked. She had been at his mercy. She would have done anything he asked. That sense of wonderful awareness that had flowed into her had lit a fire inside of her she doubted would ever be extinguished.
Even now, hours after the fact, her soul craved more. Needed to experience. Needed to have … something? For the first time in her life, she questioned societies rules about chastity. While she understood the reason behind them. Suddenly, they didn’t seem to be fair.
Lord Warwick could leave this house and have almost any woman he wanted. Yet she could not have one man. Not without marrying him first and that was something that would never happen. The concept of surrendering her will to another person seemed so foreign that she had always thought it impossible. Until now, she realized.
It just wasn’t fair.
Sighing heavily, she turned and retraced her steps while her mind wandered to the man upstairs. So handsome, brave, powerful, and off limits she reminded herself. Lord Warwick did not believe in marriage. He was a rake. Famous for leaving broken hearts across England. When you added in the fact the man was an Earl. No, it could never happen.
Besides, she didn’t believe in marriage, she reminded herself.
No, she thought to herself. She would not allow her heart to be used and tossed aside. And the only way to ensure that was to make sure they never kissed again. Because deep down, she knew, if they did, she was lost.
Grimacing, she wondered what he thought of her. Had her kiss been adequate? It seemed to have been well received. She blushed as she remembered the way his hand had felt on her rear.
If Molly had arrived but moments earlier she would have died of shock.
She needed to see him again. Needed to find out what he was thinking. Why had he kissed her and what did it mean going forward?
Yet, she suddenly realized. If she returned to him now, he would know the truth. That she could not keep away from him. That she craved his attention. And knowing Lord Warwick, he would use that, twisting and turning her until once again she was ready to commit any sin.
Her father’s cane, she thought. The man couldn’t question her motives if she was trying to help him. The perfect excuse. Hurrying to her father’s study, she burst into the room. There it was, in the corner where it had rested since his death. A twisted gnarled cane with a carved lion’s head.
Slowly, she remembered her father walking through the park holding her hand when she was a little girl. The cane tapping with each step.
What would her father think of Lord Warwick? She wondered. He would have liked him, she realized. Not because of his status but because of the man he was. But he wouldn’t have trusted him around his daughter. No, her father was no fool.
Taking up the cane, she took it upstairs. With each step, she questioned what she was doing. What if he tried to kiss her again? What if he didn’t? The world was spinning in a thousand different directions as she stopped outside his door and ran a hand down her dress and checked her hair in the back.
Yes, she was ready, but still, she hesitated for a moment. Her heart fluttered as a strange new excitement raced through her.
Why was she so nervous? Why now, Why him. This new unknown feeling that filled her was so strange. So unexpected
“Get a hold of yourself, Amanda,” she muttered under her breath as she knocked.
“Come in,” he said from the other side of the door.
Such a deep, commanding voice she thought with a smile as she opened the door. She found him sitting at the far table, examining several pieces of paper. He looked up at her and smiled. A new and different smile, she realized. One meant just for her. A smile that told her he was remembering their kiss.
“Um … I brought you this,” she said, holding out the cane as if were a shield protecting her. A reason to be there.”
He glanced at the cane then back at her and she knew instantly that he could see right through her subterfuge. He knew she was there to see him. Not to deliver the cane.
“Thank you,” he said as he pushed himself up to a standing position. He is getting better, she realized. Each day he grew stronger, more mobile.
“It was my father’s,” she replied. “I should have thought of it earlier.”
He took the cane and using his good arm rested his weight on it, taking a few steps. “Yes,” he said. “It will work well. Thank you.”
Amanda nodded, suddenly she felt awkward. What now? Was that it? Should she turn and leave him to his work. Their eyes caught for a moment as her stomach turned over.
His work, of course, that was her opening. “What are you working on?” she asked as she moved past him to examine the papers on the table.
“I’m trying to decipher the initials. I am sure they are payments to men for their knowledge. I just need to decipher who they might be.
Amanda picked up the piece of paper he had been working one. “FB is Freddie Bartholomew. You’ve written. Are you sure? And who is he?”
Lord Warwick nodded as he used the cane to step up next to her and look down at the page in her hand.
“Yes, I am sure, I’ve known about him for over a year. He talks too much when he drinks and he likes to drink, especially other people’s whiskey. He’s a minor functionary in the home office.”
Amanda nodded. FB was listed six times, each time with the sum of one hundred pounds listed after the name.
“And the others?” she asked as she read the list of names he had written out, each one crossed off, obviously not a match.
“I was working on the LS, three payments, each for five hundred pounds. Names that start with L are far and few. I thought perhaps Lawrence. Or Lionel. But nothing makes sense. Then I thought Lord, but all the Lords that begin with S aren’t in a position to know anything valuable or are too firmly on the government’s side.”
Amanda continued to stare at the list. “Couldn’t it be a Lady, not a Lord.”
Lord Warwick eyes grew larger in surprise as he thought about it. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of that.”
Amanda continued to stare at the list. “Could it be Lady Simpson. I saw them talking the night of the party, she seemed rather upset at him. Nothing blatant, but a feeling. Plus, remember, she came here a few days after you were shot. Asking if I knew where you were. Very convenient, don’t you think.”
Lord Warwick stared back at her, his face frozen in shock. “Perhaps,” he said as he turned to look off into the distance. “Her husband is very miserly with her allowance. But then that is understandable as he despises her. And she him, I might add. Fifteen Hundred pounds would go a long way to making her life better. And heaven knows, she has shared enough men’s beds to have picked up a thing or two.”
Amanda desperately wanted to ask him if she had shared his bed but bit her tongue to stop herself from saying the wrong thing. Saying something that would lead him to think she cared who he had been with.
No, she told herself. Focus on the problem in front of them.
Suddenly, Lord Warwick rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“What?” Amanda asked,
“Last year, Lady Simpson was known to be sharing Lord Havenbrook’s bed. A steamy affair that ended rather suddenly.”
“And that is significant how?”
“Because,” Lord Warwick said with a smile. “Havenbrook is in charge of supplying Weseley’s forces in Portugal. He would have access to shipping schedules. Budgets, everything. Information that Napoleon would pay dearly for.”
Amanda continued to stare down at the list, but nothing else came to her. As the two of them stood there, both looking at the list in her hand, she felt an energy building between them. An awareness of each other that tore at her very center.
Would it always be like this? She wondered. This attraction. Would she always feel this pull towards him?
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked before she realized what she was going to say. Freezing, her fingers clenched the paper even harder as she held her breath. Would he laugh at her? Ignore her as a silly woman?
He leaned the cane against the table to reach up and gently turn her to face him. Smiling down at her, he said, “Because I couldn’t not kiss you.”
Her heart leaped inside her chest. It had been the perfect answer.
“You are beautiful, brave, and posses a remarkable mind,” he continued. “So of course I kissed you. I would apologize, but I have reason to believe you enjoyed it as much as I did, so I refuse to dismiss it.”
Her cheeks erupted in heat that she just knew he would read as embarrassment.
“Oh,” she managed to say as she pulled her eyes away from him to look back down at the paper in her hand. But everything was a blur, the letters and numbers merging together as her mind wandered to other thoughts.
All she was aware of was the large man standing only inches from her. He seemed to take up half of her world. Pulling at her with an invisible force.
“Listen, Amanda,” he said as he gently lifted her chin so that he could stare down into her eyes. “You mustn’t worry. I would never do anything to compromise you.”
She looked back up at him as her insides churned. “Why not?” she asked, again before she could stop herself. But it seemed her tongue had taken on a life of its own.
He leaned back, his eyes registering surprise.
“I mean,” she added quickly. “You have a reputation, shall we say. What is it about me that restrains you?”
He smiled for a second then his lips straightened and his brow furrowed. Obviously, the man had never had to deal with such a frank discussion. He grimaced then shook his head. “Because, my dear. If I seduced you, I would feel obligated to marry you and as you know. I am not the marrying type.”
Amanda’s heart continued to race. She found it hard to believe she was having this conversation with this man, here in his bedroom. But her curiosity and something else. Something deep inside of her, drove her to find out the truth.
“But you don’t marry those other women.” She said with a frown as she pushed her spectacle back to the bridge of her nose. “What is different about me?”
He sighed heavily as he took a step away from her, obviously upset with the direction their conversation had taken.
“Come, Amanda, you are aware of the difference. If we were together. No man would ever marry you. At least no man of standing. Therefore, it would become my responsibility.”
“But …” she hesitated, she really wanted to understand. But how to do it without it seeming as if she were brazen or demanding his attention?
“But,” she continued, “Widows remarry, they do not come to their wedding bed chaste and innocent.”
He sighed heavily. “Most men don’t marry a widow to create an heir, at least not in the ton. They marry a widow to gain access to her deceased husband's wealth. Or to raise the children he already has.”
Amanda gasped, she had never heard it expressed so blatantly, but he was probably right. It seemed all so mercantile.
“Here, sit down,” he said as he pulled a chair out for her then gently guided her down to the chair. Once she was seated, he set the cane aside and used the chair arms to lower himself to a sitting position.
“What is this about, Amanda? Why these questions? You know what is expected of us. People of our standing. You know the rules and ramifications. So why.”
Amanda studied her folded hands in her lap. How could she explain? How could she make this man understand?
“I will never marry,” she said, her tongue deciding to just say what needed to say.
“Why?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Because I don’t need to. I don’t need a man’s protection or his wealth.”
He laughed, “there are other reasons to marry, you are aware of that?’
She looked back at him, “Really, why? Give me one good reason. Love? You mean like Lord and Lady Simpson. How many people do you know marry for love and that love last? How many women end up abandoned and alone while their husbands are off gallivanting around.”
“Family?” he said. “Children?”
She looked at him, “In reality, marriage is not necessary to have a family. Half the men of the ton have a bastard or two. Again, a license from the church isn’t necessary to procreate. Granted, the children would be better off with a father who was married to their mother. But, as I said, not fully required.”
He frowned and slowly shook his head. “How did someone so young become so cynical?”
She laughed, “You forget, I have no desire to climb the social ladder and no fear of becoming destitute. That freedom grants a woman a different perspective.”
He continued to study her for a long moment. “You are like no other woman I know,” he said as if he were both shocked and resigned. “Somehow, it just doesn’t seem natural. A young, beautiful woman without romantic ideals. Do other women think like this?”
Amanda laughed, “No, but in all honesty, I haven’t discussed it with them. Like you, most of the young woman I talk to would find my ideas terrifying.”
Her insides tightened up when she realized how far their conversation had gone. How much she had revealed about herself. What must he think? Would he think less of her? He had already told her that she was different, strange. Would that make him think of her as silly in her own, unusual way?
Would he think she was asking him to take her to bed? The thought sent a cold fear through her. What if he thought that, but decided not to pursue it. What if he found her openness unattractive? Maybe he preferred coy, innocent women. Women he must pursue and persuade. Was it the hunt that he preferred?
She knew so little about men, really. And why was she telling him all of this? Why expose her innermost thoughts to this man.
Lord Warwick continued to study her for a long moment then pulled himself back to the papers on the desk. But as he studied them he slowly shook his head.
“You, Miss Waters, are remarkable.”
Yes, she wondered, but was that a good or bad thing in his eyes?