Amanda clutched at the woman’s shawl. “Quite.” She sucked down a shaky breath. “Quite. Lady Mary, I don’t feel well enough to go out today, but I have a very important missive to deliver.” She tugged the note from her sleeve and pressed it into the woman’s hand. “Would you please deliver this to the animal doctor on Hartford Court? And you can’t leave without his promise to come see Reggie at once. Something is wrong with him, and I don’t know what.”
“Of course, dear.” She clucked. “That poor baby. I should have known something was wrong when he refused the bit of beef I offered him last night. Let me go grab my gloves and reticule.”
Amanda almost stepped on the woman’s heels following her back inside. She wanted to kneel down and kiss the floor. Inside was safe. Inside was where she belonged.
The footman eyed her curiously, and she tried to gather her emotions. “Can you take the Lady Mary to the animal doctor on Hartford? The duke has used him before to attend to Reggie.”
“Yes, miss.” His gaze travelled down her body before snapping back to the wall with a blank look.
Amanda knew he was only curious about her disheveled appearance, her fright. The man had never acted inappropriately before. But she still shrank back. There were far fewer prying eyes inside than out, but there were still too many. And men looking at her body had never ended well for her.
She waited in the foyer until Lady Mary bustled out, the footman two steps behind. The woman assured her she wouldn’t return without the animal doctor in tow. But the duke’s aunt was so flighty, she might forget her task as easily as Julius had seemed to forget about Amanda. It should be Amanda going to retrieve the doctor. She was letting Reggie down. She was letting her sister down. Again.
With the front door safely shut, Amanda fled into the morning room and dropped to her knees next to the settee. She stroked Reggie’s head, his soft brown fur sliding through her fingers. Sunlight streamed through the window, reflecting off a large mirror on the wall. The ceiling stretched to three times her height. Everything was open and airy, and Amanda hated it. This room wasn’t safe, either.
As gently as possible, she slid her hands under Reggie’s warm body and cradled him to her chest. He was almost too large now for her to carry, but she managed. After one last whimper, he settled against her and fell back asleep. Feeling as though the walls were watching, she crept swiftly up the stairs and fled to her room, closing the door behind her.
Her bedchamber was dusky behind the drawn curtains, but her step never hesitated. She’d learned well how to navigate in the dark. Heading for her armoire, she pulled open the door and climbed inside. She’d managed to keep herself from succumbing to this weakness for over a month, but her spot in the corner was still open.
Sitting cross-legged, she held Reggie tight, burying her nose in his fur. With one last shaky breath, she pulled the door closed, sealing herself safely inside.
***
Where the bloody hell was she? Julius pressed his fingertips into his skull, hoping the pressure would counteract the pounding from within. Last night he’d gone to his townhouse, surprised the one servant left in residence during Julius’s extended absence, and gotten rip-roaring drunk. What else could a man do after getting another man killed? He was paying for it this morning.
Carter had assured him that Miss Wilcox was yet indoors, and of that, Julius had little doubt. She never left. But he’d searched the house high and low and had yet to discover her. His throbbing head couldn’t take this.
He strode into her room again. Her chamber smelled faintly of lavender, and he spied the bunch of dried flowers on her bureau. He fingered the faded purple stem, and it broke off in his hand. Desiccated. Dead. There was no life in this room. No spill of colorful gowns an eager chit had been too busy to put away. No half-read book on the low table in front of the fireplace. He ripped open the curtains over the window, letting light in. Amanda existed, but did she truly live?
He tapped his fingers on his thigh. She might not exist for long. If she didn’t reveal herself soon, he was going to kill her for scaring him. He didn’t even want to consider what Marcus would do to him if he misplaced the man’s sister-in-law. He’d start in the attics and make his way down through the house this time. She was within these walls; she had to be.
His hand was on the door’s latch when he heard the small whimper. Spinning, he scanned the room. Not wanting to believe it, he dropped to one knee and lifted the long counterpane. He heaved a sigh of relief. No one hiding beneath the bed. That only left one place where a body could fit. He crossed the room and opened the armoire.
Amanda blinked at the light and pulled her knees up close to her chest, causing the pup to whimper again.
It felt like someone had reached inside Julius’s chest and ripped out his heart.
He sank into a crouch next to the open door. “Amanda,” he said gently. “What are you doing in there?”
She remained silent. Julius remembered the blanket he’d found at the bottom of the wardrobe when he’d dressed Amanda and bit back a curse. How long had this been her hiding place?
“Don’t you think it’s time to come out?” he asked gently.
She shook her head and hugged the dog close.
Julius ran a finger behind Reggie’s ear. “I’ve heard you’ve sent for the animal doctor. You’ll need to take the dog downstairs to await his arrival.”
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the wood paneling. The skin of her neck gleamed like ivory in the sunlight, and she looked as fragile as a snowflake. Such pallor was the height of fashion, but knowing that she only achieved it by hiding herself away turned Julius’s stomach. He had to get her out of this house. It bound her like a tomb. He wanted to see her as brown and freckled as a field hand.
She offered up the pup. “You take him down. The animal doctor will be more attentive if you’re there anyway.”
“I’m not going down without you.” His voice was harsher than he’d intended, and Amanda’s eyes flew open. He cleared his throat. “We’ll go down together.”
He could carry her out. Hell, he could toss her in his carriage and force her to walk Hyde Park without a bonnet, something that would put some color on her face. But she needed to break free of her self-imposed prison herself. If anyone understood that, it was he.
What he didn’t understand was why she found comfort in close spaces. Just seeing her slight body ensconced in the wardrobe made his skin itch.
His first year of imprisonment had been in a space this small. His cell was a mud pit they covered with a slab of wood. It had almost been a relief when they’d drag him out and bind him. His torture had been their entertainment. The ropes hadn’t allowed for even the smallest movements. As his captors had come to understand his rank in British society, the ropes had loosened, his treatment improved. When he’d become the heir to an earldom, the samurai holding him had made the knots so loose they were merely a formality. They’d come to believe that his honor would keep him from running. They’d been wrong.