Chapter Twenty
Amanda extracted the hem of her gown from Reggie’s teeth. “Bad dog. Clothing is not a toy.” She looked around the morning room but didn’t see his rope anywhere. She’d already hunted for it in the other rooms of the ground floor to no avail. Julius would have to get him another.
She didn’t bother to ask the footmen to search. She’d found the latest edition of The Times on her bed that afternoon, after she’d crawled out of Julius’s. It was folded neatly to the second page, her indiscretions front and center.
One of the servants had placed it there, a deliberate taunt. The smirks of the footmen had grown more pronounced. Mr. Carter outright ignored her.
She strode into the library, Reggie at her heels, and pulled up short when she saw the figure seated behind the desk. “Julius! I didn’t hear you return.” She rocked onto her toes, her feet wanting to hurry to his side. Propriety, and a lingering sense of irritation, stopped her. Reggie leapt onto the settee, circling three times before dropping down on his side.
“I’ve only been back a couple of minutes.” Pushing back from the desk, Julius stretched out an arm. No amount of irritation could stop her from accepting that invitation. She went to his side, and Julius pulled her down onto his lap. “I have some correspondence to respond to and then I’ll be up.”
This close, she couldn’t not touch him. She tucked a damp lock of hair behind his ear. “Julius, is there something you neglected to tell me?”
His eyes widened, the picture of innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I don’t think my question could be any clearer.”
He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. “Do you refer to the fact that our Reginald has finally become a man? It is big news, but I thought you’d want to congratulate him for yourself when you see him relieve himself against a tree.”
“What? No.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s not what I’m talking about, as you well know.”
His shoulders slumped. “Is this about the paper? I was going to tell you, I just hadn’t found the right time.”
“Wrong again.” She smacked his chest. “You dismissed another servant. That poor footman who didn’t accompany me for my walk.”
“Of course.” Julius firmed his lips. “He didn’t do his job.”
“I told you I wished to walk alone.” Even though she had to admit that had been a foolish idea. “No wonder all the servants detest me if you fire everyone who slights me in the least.”
“What do you mean they detest you?” Julius’s chest vibrated against her shoulder with his growl. “Do they insult you?”
The house would be empty before Liz and Marcus’s return. She pasted on a bright smile. “Of course not. You’re damp. We should get your coat off of you before you catch cold.” Sliding her hand under his chilled coat, she pushed it down his shoulder.
Julius trapped her hand. “You can take my clothes off in a minute.” Turning the wick up on the oil lamp on the desk, Julius picked up a letter and squinted at it. Three or four others were tossed carelessly on the desk before him.
She’d managed to distract him from dismissing the entire domestic staff, but now she was the one distracted. Amanda wrinkled her nose and sniffed. She pushed back his coat, and the smell of smoke intensified. “Were you at a bonfire?”
He arched an eyebrow. “In the rain?”
“Then why do you smell like the inside of a char pit?”
His eyes scanned from left to right, not looking at her. “Hmm? Oh. My friends and I were inside a building that was set afire. I’ll burn the clothes if they smell that bad to you.”
Amanda pushed off his lap. “You what?” She examined him from head to toe but saw no injuries. “Are your friends all right?”
“Dunkeld has some nasty scratches on his stomach and fist, but he’s seen worse.” His voice trailed off, and he turned the letter over to read the back.
Amanda snatched it from his hand.
Startled, Julius looked up and finally seemed to realize her agitation. His brow knit together. “We all survived unscathed. It is nothing to concern yourself over.”
She poked him in the chest. “You may not think I have the right to care, that I’m just one of your bits of muslin, but I do care. A great deal. And when you say you were in a burning building, I think I deserve a little more information.”
“Now just a minute.” Julius shot up. “I’ve never said you were a bit of muslin. And don’t insult me, or you, by claiming such.”
“Tell me about the fire.” Amanda could be as tenacious as Reggie with his rope. Sweet words wouldn’t turn her from her course. “Is this about your investigation?”
He ran a hand through his thick hair, and a damp lock stuck straight up. “The blackmailers don’t appreciate my snooping. The fire was an attempt to intimidate us.” He shuffled through the papers on his desk and came up with a tan piece of parchment covered in a looping scrawl. “I also received this note, threatening to expose my unusual preferences.”
Amanda took it from his hand and skimmed its contents. She pursed her lips. “What would happen to you if this information came out? You can’t lose your title, can you?”
“No. Very little would happen to me.” Julius plodded to the large globe in the corner of the room and lifted the lid. He pulled out an amber bottle, and poured himself a drink. “Want one?” he asked.
Amanda shook her head.
“My income would remain the same. I would lose no society that I care about.” Sitting on the desk, Julius stretched out his legs. He swirled the dark liquid around in its glass. “It isn’t myself that I’m worried for.”
“Yes, the women mentioned would face scandal.” Amanda pressed a hand to her uneasy stomach. She placed the letter on the desk, something elusive tugging at the edge of her mind.
“I will have to warn them, of course.” He sighed. “Normally, I’d be most concerned about how such information would affect my betrothed. Frankly, however, there is nothing the blackmailers could say about me that would affect you more than what has already been said.”
Her heart stumbled to a stop. “Betrothed?”
Julius drew her to stand between his legs, resting his hands at her hips. “Hanford wrote another piece in today’s paper. He accuses us of having an affair. No matter how much I deny it, the damage is done. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, I saw it.” She filled her lungs, trying to breathe through the pain. Her happiness was so close. She never thought Julius would offer for her. It was monstrously idiotic. And wonderfully kind. And she could never accept. Not when he was pressured into it. She wouldn’t be another prison.
“You did?” Running his hands up and down her arms, he pulled her closer.
“Yes. As did Lady Mary. She congratulates us on our nonconformist lifestyle, by the way.” Amanda rested her hands on his shoulders and stretched her lips wide. “And nothing in that paper means we must wed. As you say, my reputation could go no lower. There is nothing to preserve.”
She kissed his cheek and tried not to cry. “Now stop being silly and tell me what you’re going to do about the men who tried to kill you.”
A spark of hope flared to life in his eyes and slowly faded. “This isn’t something you can dismiss so easily. Besides”—his Adam’s apple bobbed—“marriage wouldn’t be so bad. It can’t be much different than as we are now, living together, in the same house. Only it would be forever.” A bead of sweat rolled down his hairline.
Was he trying to convince her, or himself? Either way, he wasn’t doing a very good job. She patted his cheek. “There is no need for us to be swayed by public pressure.”
“Forget public pressure. Your brother-in-law will insist.”
“And I will refuse.” She stepped away from his warmth. This conversation was a dagger to the heart. She remembered the desperate look in Julius’s eyes when she’d tied him to the bed. The anger and loathing. If she gave in to her heart’s dream, she would face that look every day of her life. She cleared her throat. “But I won’t inflict my reputation on my sister and brother. I’ve been thinking that when they return I should travel abroad. Take up residence in a foreign country where no one knows me. I’m sure Marcus would be more than happy to pay for my upkeep outside of England.” Liz’s reputation was already tarnished by having such a sister, but the distance would help. Marcus was too pragmatic not to acknowledge and want that.
Unable to look at Julius, she shuffled through the other letters on his desk. She returned to the blackmail letter, wondering what about it struck her. Something gave her a feeling of familiarity. And if she focused on that, she wouldn’t have to think about everything she’d just given up.
“Amanda—”
“What’s this? It mentions my name.” She held up a creased missive, cutting off whatever argument Julius’s honor felt it necessary to pursue.
He grunted and, with a sigh, took the paper from her hand. “One of my fellow members at Simon’s. He has an idea for a bit of sport, as he calls it. He wants the infamous and revolutionary Miss Wilcox to come speak about reform tomorrow night. He’s reserved the main meeting hall and had the rules prohibiting women from entering the premises suspended.” Julius cocked his head. “I know Bertie thinks it would be a scandalous lark to have you speak to the members, but I was thinking it might do your agenda good. The members are influential in politics. You might convince some of them.”
“You want me to go to your club?” The back of her throat shriveled to dust, and she swallowed. “To speak in front of a large group of unfriendly men? Men who now know that I’ve been intimate with you?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds unreasonable.”
“What other way is there to put it?” Amanda’s voice squeaked on the last word. “This isn’t going to happen.”
“But you’ve started going out of doors …”
“And I will keep trying.” She reclaimed the letter, folded it, and stuck it down the front of her bodice. Out of Julius’s sight, hopefully out of his mind. What on earth was he thinking? “But I’m going to get my feet wet by wading into the ocean, not jumping off a dock.”
His eyes tracked her movements and centered on the covered bundle at her breasts. “Fair enough.” He reached for her and drew her back close. “You were talking of removing my wet, smoke-ridden clothes before, yes?”
Tucking her hair back behind an ear, Julius leaned in and took her lobe into his mouth. He bit down lightly.
Amanda swayed closer. Sliding her hands under his coat, she rubbed his firm chest. His clothes had pretty well dried by now, and Julius had warmed up nicely. Still didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take his clothes off. She loved the contrast of his hard muscle covered by the softest of linen shirts.
Her gaze drifted to the desk. And the blackmailer’s letter.
No. Julius was doing unspeakable things to her ear, tingles were lighting up all over her body, and she wasn’t going to waste this moment wondering why that letter had caught her attention. Besides, that was Julius’s concern. Her concern was to eke out as much pleasure as possible from what remained of their relationship.
He traced the rim of her ear with his tongue, then plunged inside, the moist caress making her shudder. She tilted her head, offering him a long expanse of neck.
He accepted the invitation. He pressed soft lips down her throat as he undid the top two buttons of her dress. When he reached a particularly sensitive patch of skin, Julius scraped his teeth across it and sucked lightly.
Amanda dug her fingers into his shirt. His mouth. Julius had the most amazing mouth. She let her eyes slit open, and her gaze fell on the letter. The haze that had wound its way around her mind dissipated. What was it about that damn letter? It was like there was an itch on her brain that she couldn’t scratch.
“I want to lay you out on this desk”—Julius gripped her bottom and pulled her flush to his body—“lift up your skirts, inch by inch, and make you scream so loud the servants in the neighboring houses hear you. There are some benefits to our secret being out.”
“Uh huh. Sounds delightful.” She dragged the letter closer with the tip of one finger.
“Then you’re going to unbutton my falls, take my cock out, and take it so far—”
“Eureka!” Amanda pushed out of his arms and raced from the room. She left Julius standing, mouth agape, his hands opening and closing on nothing.
Reggie followed at her heels, barking at the chase. She reached the top of the stairs, out of breath, and hurried for her room. She pressed a hand to her side. All those months of remaining inactive indoors were catching up with her.
She went to her escritoire and pulled the top down. A short length of rope lay on the desk. “Sorry, Reggie. I’d forgotten it was here.” She tossed the toy to him, and he settled down before the fire, gnawing on the jute.
Only two of the slots held correspondence. One was reserved for letters from Liz. The other held the one missive she’d received directly from Lord Hanford. She pulled it out and hurried back down to the library.
Julius was fixed in the same spot. “What the bloody hell just happened?”
“I know who your blackmailer is.” Excitement made her voice shake. She brushed the other letters to the corner of the desk and arranged her letter and Julius’s blackmail one side by side. “Hanford wrote both of these.”
Julius placed his palms flat on either side of the letters and bent close. “Hanford wrote this to you? The condescending prick.”
She flapped a hand. “It didn’t matter. Ignore the words. Just look at the writing.”
He turned his head from letter to letter. Eyebrows lowered, he met her gaze. “I don’t see it. Hanford’s letter to you is a neat script. The blackmailer’s hand is loose and much larger.”
“Well, of course, he wouldn’t make it obvious.” She bent next to him and pointed at a line. “Do you see the ‘T’s in your letter. The cross line in almost all of them is a nice straight bar. But in the word ‘must’ here, and”—she flipped over the page—“the word ‘investigation’ here, the bars are angled upwards. Significantly so. And the little curly cue on the end is distinctive. It’s as though the author were trying to conceal his natural style of writing, but forgot in those two instances.”
Julius held the letter up to the oil lamp. “There’s a discrepancy with his ‘h’s, as well.” He picked up her letter. This time when he looked at her, he smiled. “It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, but it’s enough for Liverpool to authorize a private search of his home. The noose draws tighter.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I suspected his bumbling old man air was merely a ruse.” Folding up both letters, Julius tucked them into his coat pocket. “And Hanford was the only one who knew I was investigating Allan. He must have sent the order for him to be killed so the attorney couldn’t betray them.”
Amanda shivered. “And this is what you do? Spend your time chasing killers? Escaping from burning buildings?” How did he stand it? It was a good thing he didn’t want to marry. What wife could survive spending every night wondering if he would come home?
He rested a hand on her shoulder and rubbed his thumb along her collarbone. “Investigating crime rings and killers isn’t my usual task. The Crown uses me more as a recovery agent. I retrieve lost or stolen objects. Much less danger.”
“If you say so.”
Bending down, he kissed the hollow between her collarbones. “I say so.” He raised his head. “There’s no need to worry.”
Amanda didn’t believe that, but she knew Julius was as safe as he could be. He was smart and strong, and she would just have to trust him.
He cupped her cheek. “Now. We need to discuss our marriage.”
Her body jerked. Every time he said that word, it felt as though a thousand tiny needles jabbed into her heart. It would be so easy to take what she wanted. Pretend that circumstances had forced them both into it.
But she owed Julius too much. His freedom was the least she could give him.
Rolling up to her toes, she drew his lower lip into her mouth. She slid her hand down his flat belly and cupped the bulge behind his pants. “There’s nothing to talk about. Now come up to bed.” Grasping his hand, she turned to lead him upstairs.
He tugged on her hand, stopping her. “You can distract me for a while, but we will have that conversation.”
She nodded. She couldn’t avoid it forever. But at the end of that conversation, neither one of them would be happy. Julius would feel as though he’d betrayed his honor. And Amanda would have to end the affair. If they continued, he would eventually wear her down, leaving him miserable and her hopeless in their marriage.
After that conversation, there was no more future for them.