Chapter Twelve
“I think you’re wrong.” Julius frowned at her, his hands on his hips.
Amanda sighed. That seemed to be a recurring theme this morning. “I know. You’ve said that before. Many times. But you aren’t going to change my mind.”
“What is the good of arguing with someone if he doesn’t even know who he’s arguing against?” He paced to the window, and Reggie pounced on his boot. Julius plucked a short bit of rope from the shelf of the library’s bookcase and waggled it in front of the dog’s nose. Amanda’s heart melted. For a man who disclaimed any interest in the pup, Julius seemed most accommodating to Reggie’s needs.
Julius looked up at her. “Well?”
Amanda stared at the signature at the bottom of her parchment. It was her handwriting, but not her name. No one would listen to Miss Amanda Wilcox. She was a woman, and a disgraced one at that. But a Mr. A. Wilson? That name sounded strong.
She folded the four pages into three equal sections and tucked the papers into an envelope. “I’m not arguing with anyone. I wrote an opinion piece for The Times. I dispute the Marquess of Hanford on several key points regarding his stance on capital punishment. He is free to disagree.” Carefully penning the name of the editor on the front of the envelope, Amanda blew on the wet ink.
And her mind flashed back to a very naughty place.
Cheeks warm, she held the envelope out to Julius. “Will you see that this is delivered?”
“If you sign your own name to it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Obscuring your identity is just another form of hiding.”
“I thought you approved of my hiding. Something about it keeping me out of trouble.”
“That was last night.” He set his jaw. “You’d just scared the dickens out of me.”
Amanda kept quiet, and kept her arm out. She had patience, too.
“Fine.” Julius blew out a lusty breath. He snatched the envelope from her hand. “But only if you ride with me in the carriage.” She opened her mouth to object, but he was faster. “Just ride in the carriage. With the curtains drawn. Most of the way. I will only ride to the newspaper if you are sitting next to me.”
“That’s blackmail.” Amanda rubbed her palms against her skirts. “Earls don’t stoop to such lengths.”
He snorted. “We’re the worst of the bunch. Now, how badly do you want this delivered?”
“I can have Carter send it.”
“Not if I tell him not to.” Julius raised a dark brow.
He didn’t know how right he was. Carter would be only too happy to deny her a service. She looked at the envelope dangling from his fingers, then at the morning paper. How she wanted her voice heard, in a paper she respected. She looked out the window, her heart tripping in her chest.
Did she dare? Her excursion last night hadn’t ended well. But if she didn’t have to leave the carriage …
“All right. I’ll do it.”
Julius beamed, looking much too smug with himself by half. Reggie pounced on his boot, and Julius shook him off.
“But Reggie comes, too.” Hearing his name, the dog trotted over to her, and Amanda scooped him up. “He’s someone I trust to protect me.”
Julius gaped in outrage.
Biting back a smile, Amanda jumped to her feet.
“Shall we go?” If she was going to do something so foolish, she wanted it done fast. The sooner done, the sooner ended.
“Fine.” He slid the envelope into his coat pocket. “Go get a wrap and bonnet, and I’ll have the carriage sent around.”
She hurried up the stairs, her body a ball of nervous energy. She pulled her spencer from the armoire and stared into the empty space in the corner. She could crawl in there. Curl up. It was quite comfortable. Snug really. Julius wouldn’t drag her out of there, kicking and screaming. Probably.
But did she want to be the type of woman who hid among her gowns? She smoothed her hands down the spencer and turned for the hall. Reggie bit the hem of her skirts and waddled backwards, halting her progress. She tugged her gown free. “You’re coming, too.” She walked to the top of the steps and stared down at the front door. Reggie rushed past her and tumbled down the stairs. His legs slid out from under him on the last step, and he flipped head over paws into the foyer. He popped up at the bottom and trotted to the door, head held high.
Amanda chuckled, and the laughter eased her way down the steps.
Lady Mary clapped her hands together from the entrance of the sitting room. “Marvelous recovery, Reginald.” She glanced curiously at Amanda’s spencer. “Are you going somewhere, my dear?”
“Julius is driving me to The Times.” Amanda tugged on a pair of gloves. “If you’d like to accompany us, I’m sure there will be room in the carriage.”
“It’s too cold for me today.” The older woman gave a delicate shiver. “But you two go and enjoy yourselves.”
Amanda stared at the footman waiting to open the front door and back at Lady Mary. The woman was supposed to act as chaperone. Would it harm Julius’s reputation if he were seen accompanying her unattended? She sniffed, and shook her head at her own folly. It was never the man’s reputation that was harmed. And hers couldn’t be sullied any further.
There was nothing for it but to gird her loins and venture outside. “Come, Reggie.” His solid presence at her side gave her some small solace as she walked through the entry and into the bright afternoon sun. Her feet hardly faltered as she took the steps down to the curb.
Julius opened the carriage door for her, earning a minuscule frown from the footman. Reggie leapt up as if riding in the carriage of a duke was his due. Amanda let Julius hand her in more slowly.
She slid across the seat and made sure the curtain completely covered the window. The carriage rocked as Julius settled in beside her. With a crack of a whip, they jolted forward.
Amanda held her breath, waiting for disaster to strike. Any moment now …
“There’s still time to change your signature.” Julius picked Reggie up from the seat between them and plopped him down across the way. He slid closer, his thigh nudging hers. “I can have a man bring us a pen when we arrive—”
“No, thank you.” Amanda rubbed her cheek and longed for the security of her mask. “My decision stands. But I appreciate your attempt to distract me.”
He grumbled. “That wasn’t a diversion tactic. I do think you’re wrong.”
“Yes, we’ve been over that. Just like you think I’m wrong about the coat of arms on the tall man’s coach.”
His features were shadowed in the dim interior of the carriage. “You must admit it seems awfully convenient that the family coat of arms you picked out of Edmondson’s Body of Heraldry just happens to belong to the man who you take to task in your opinion piece.” Picking up her hand, he brushed his thumb along her wrist. “It isn’t unusual for a strong dislike of someone to cloud one’s memory.”
“There is nothing wrong with my memory.” She was tempted to pull her hand from his grip, but didn’t want to be petty. Besides, it was warm and solid, and she needed something to hold onto. “The coat of arms I saw on the coach last night is the one I picked out of Edmondson’s. Just because it belongs to an ignorant buffoon who has no business voting on English law is pure coincidence.”
“Yes, you don’t sound biased at all.”
Amanda frowned. “Are you going to ask Lord Hanford what his coach was doing at The Black Rose? Or does his title allow him the privilege of blackmail?”
His dropped her hand. “No one gets a free pass when it comes to the security of our nation.”
Amanda hung her head. “Julius, I apologize. I didn’t mean it.”
“Didn’t you?”
Resting her head on the seat back, Amanda stared into the darkness. There was nothing to say. Julius was a good man, but there was a code, even among good men. By the accident of birth, some men could get away with murder. While she’d been denied a fair trial and evaded a hanging only by a prison escape.
The man next to her had been responsible for her escape. Had saved her life. He was a good man. An honorable one. But if it came down to it, would the Crown look to punish one of its own? Would Julius press the matter?
The coach rattled to a stop, and the silence inside hung heavy. Muffled voices of Londoners strolling past sounded cheerful in comparison.
Julius cleared his throat. “I’ll deliver this and be right back.”
Laying a hand on his arm, she stopped him. “I truly am sorry.”
He nodded and pushed open the carriage door, leaping down, and shutting her in tight.
Reggie snored across from her, giving a little whimper every once in a while. Amanda sighed. She seemed to have the uncanny knack for making those around her unhappy. First Liz, for wasting a year of her life trying to free her sister. Now Julius. Even Reggie suffered from bad dreams.
The air became stifling. Flicking the corner of the curtain back, Amanda lowered the window an inch. A cool breeze wafted through the opening. Men with tall hats strode past. A lady with a lavender parasol and a high-pitched giggle. London teemed with life. And Amanda watched, half-hidden behind the curtain.
Skin itching, she dropped the velvet and smoothed it back into place. She waited for the darkness to soothe her. And waited. It was just her and Reggie, alone in an enclosed box. Her environment was just as she liked it.
So why wasn’t she feeling soothed, damn it? Reaching across the carriage, she picked Reggie up and plopped him on her lap. He opened one eye, huffed, and settled back into slumber. His warm body was a comforting weight on her legs, yet the edginess that prickled her skin wouldn’t leave her be.
The door was thrown open, and Julius climbed back in. He sat next to her, leaving several inches of bench between them. “It’s been delivered. The editor said it would run in the next couple of days.”
“He’s going to print it?” She clasped her hands together. “Truly?”
“So he said.” Pounding the ceiling of the carriage, Julius settled back and stretched his arm along the back of the seat. “Why should that surprise you?”
“I’ve never been published before.” Amanda leaned into his arm. Julius wouldn’t understand. For men like him it was taken for granted. If he spoke, people listened. He couldn’t understand how voiceless the average woman was.
Thank God she’d written under a pseudonym.
The carriage jolted before turning sharply. It rolled to a stop, and Amanda peeked under the corner of the curtain. “Where are we?”
“I asked the driver to take us across from Hanford’s home. I’m hoping he’ll take his coach out today.” Julius slid closer to her and draped the curtain over its hold back hook. He looked outside. “I want you to confirm your identification looking at the actual coach and not the picture from a thirty-year-old book.”
The back of her eyes burned. He wasn’t dismissing her claims. It wasn’t absolute trust in her judgment, but it was enough.
She cleared her throat. “So, we just wait and hope?” Amanda leaned forward. Across the street, a short drive led to a four-story brick townhouse. Nothing moved beyond the windows of the house. No footman stood to attention by the front doors. “We could be here forever.”
Sliding a pocket watch from his waistcoat, Julius popped open the cover. “It’s coming on six o’clock. The time many gentlemen head to the club for a cigar and a drink, maybe read a paper or two before dinner. Be patient.”
She sniffed and stared at the drive.
Her neck began to ache from the angle she held it at, and she shifted on the seat. A crush of hackneys clogged the street, the drivers hollering at each other and blocking her view.
She craned her head, unable to see around the blockage. It finally cleared. She sighed. The marquess’s front door remained shut. No activity.
Her mind wandered. She wondered where Liz was at that moment. In a museum? Sailing down one of Venice’s famed canals? Her eyes lost their focus, the world outside her carriage blurred. As a child, she’d dreamed of travel. India had always held a certain appeal. Did ships have armoires she could barricade herself within? With the great expanse of open sea engulfing the ship, she would need one.
Julius took her hand, stilling the nervous tapping of her fingers against her thigh. “Do you need to return home? Has this been too much for you?”
The worry in his voice carved itself onto her heart. She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. Merely at a loss of what to do while we wait. Is espionage always this boring?”
He chuckled. “Only if you’re fortunate. The alternative is not so pleasant.” His thumb stroked hers, sending a tickle to the base of her spine. “Besides, sitting in a carriage with a beautiful woman is not without its enticements.”
“Please.” Brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, she shook her head. “Beautiful is an overstatement. Especially with my hair in a constant state of disarray. But as you are responsible for the condition of my hair, perhaps you don’t notice the disorder.”
He trailed his fingers across her nape. “Personally, I like that it looks as though you recently rolled from my bed. But if you want, I’ll ask Carter to hire you a new lady’s maid.”
Amanda angled her head, exposing inches of neck. “As no one sees my hair but you, Lady Mary, and the servants, I don’t mind.” And she didn’t trust Carter to hire her a trustworthy maid. “Do you really keep no”—she shuddered as his lips caressed her collarbone—“no servants at your home?”
“I could only hope.” He cupped her breast through her clothes. “At my London townhouse, I keep the bare necessity. A cook. A footman who also is my driver. And two maids come in twice a week to clean. Any more servants than that and they’d be in the way as much as this spencer is.” He tried to unbutton it one-handed. “Oh, to hell with this.” He hauled her to the edge of the seat, sending Reggie tumbling to the floor with a panicked yip.
Julius cursed. “I forgot about the blasted dog.” He picked Reggie up and stroked along his fur, checking for injury. Satisfied, he placed the pup on the seat across from them. “He’s fine.”
Reggie glared at him, obviously disagreeing. Turning his back, the dog coiled into a ball and heaved a disgruntled sigh.
Amanda bit her lip, smothering her laughter. She couldn’t smother her yelp of surprise when Julius dragged her onto his lap.
“Julius, I’m not going to allow you liberties on a public street. It would be—”
A carriage rolled past her window, and she bolted upright. Sliding off Julius’s lap, she pressed to the opening, drawing the curtains farther back. “He’s not leaving. He’s arriving. There it is. The coat of arms on that coach. There’s your man.” She pointed to the carriage that turned down the drive and stopped before the front doors of Hanford’s townhouse. A footman hopped from his perch at the back and disappeared around the side.
Julius nudged her to the side so both of them could see out the window. “Are you certain? It was dark last night, and many family arms can look similar. I can’t proceed on intuition.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I saw it well enough last night. That is the coat of arms.”
An older man with white hair and a cane held loosely in one hand sprang up the steps to the front of the townhouse. He threw his head back and laughed at something his butler said. He patted the man on the arm and strode inside.
“Not the most devilish looking of suspects,” Julius muttered.
Amanda frowned. “Looks aren’t everything.” But she had to admit that the Marquess of Hanford looked more like a doting grandfather than someone involved in a blackmailing ring. Still, that sweet old grandfather had no problem sending ten-year-olds to the noose. She pressed her lips together.
Rubbing his jaw, Julius squinted out the window. “I know he has a son, but I don’t think he comes down to London much. I’ve never met him. I wonder how tall he is.”
Amanda settled back into the seat. She thought of the Hanford butler towering over the marquess by several inches. “He might get his height from his mother’s side.”
“Or it might not be him.” He pounded on the ceiling, and the carriage pulled into the road. “I’m still not convinced you identified the right coat of arms.”
“But you’ll investigate just the same? You won’t let him get away just because he’s a marquess?” She didn’t know why this was so important to her. It wasn’t her task to stop the crime ring. And she’d long since reconciled herself to the fact that the world wasn’t fair. Most people were never held to account for their actions. She could only hope justice was served in the afterlife.
Still, she held her breath and waited for his answer. She might not have faith in the world, but she wanted to believe in Julius.
“I’ll investigate.” Sunlight streaked across his jaw, leaving his eyes in shadow. “But you might not like the outcome. Don’t—” He scrubbed his hand across his jaw.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t raise your hopes.” He laid a hand on her knee and squeezed. “Even if Lord Hanford were no longer a member of Parliament, nothing would change. There are a hundred men who believe just as he does.” He shook his head. “The vote won’t change if he’s arrested.”
No, there were thousands of men who supported England’s harsh capital punishment laws. But there were also men like Julius, men who wanted reform. And if enough people fought, maybe the minds of people like Lord Hanford could be changed.
She settled back into her seat and gave Julius a reassuring smile. She understood the chances. But with that letter to The Times she’d taken a positive step to affect change. She was fighting back.
London rolled past the uncovered window, the slanting sunlight making the stone buildings glow pink. Tradesmen hurried home after their days’ labors. Some couples were out for their evening stroll. The city burst with life.
And Amanda didn’t once think about closing the curtains.