Amanda’s hand stilled on Reggie’s stomach until he whined in protest. She continued stroking him. “How does ignoring a marquess’s dismissal become an acceptance later?”
“Time is as transitive as the human heart.” Tugging on a purple thread, the woman grimaced until the string pulled through her square of fabric. “And acceptance and dismissals will both exist only until you decide to choose one.”
Amanda bit the inside of her cheek. She ran the words through her head again, but understanding remained elusive. She sighed. For a moment, she’d forgotten that Lady Mary was the one person in the house more cracked than Amanda. She was very sweet, but not someone to look to for advice.
“Who were you writing to, dear?” Licking her thumb and forefinger, Lady Mary rolled her fingers over the end of a green thread. She squinted one eye behind her spectacles and prodded the thread at the eye of her needle. “Maybe I know him and can put in a good word for you.”
“This letter is from the Marquess of Hanford.”
The bell for dinner sounded, and Reggie’s head perked up. He slid down from the settee, a little slower than usual. But if he was in the mood for table scraps, he must be better.
Amanda stood and waited for Lady Mary to rise. “I wrote five letters to the most prominent critics of reforming the law on capital punishment. Only the Marquess was considerate enough to send me a reply.”
The women trailed after Reggie to the east dining room. A footman held a chair out for Lady Mary, turned his back on Amanda, and went to his position by the door. Amanda pulled out her own chair.
“Did you explain how unfair the conditions were in prison?” The older woman glanced at the needle still in her hand and blinked. She tucked it into her fichu, the tail of green thread stark against the white linen. “I’m sure if they knew that innocent people were being sent to the noose, and children, they’d change the law very quickly.”
Amanda almost envied the woman. She was sweet and simple and assumed everything else in the world would follow the same course. How pleasant it must be to live in that fantasy.
“The Marquess seems to feel that if England lets one guilty man go unpunished, the whole of society will crumble.” Amanda watched the footman pour Lady Mary some wine and raised her own glass hopefully. He filled her cup, and Amanda’s shoulders relaxed. The servants’ rudeness hadn’t extended to outright refusal of service, at least not yet. Not where it would be noticed by the duke’s aunt or friend. She took a sip, and let the rich plummy flavor soothe some of her irritation over the letter. “Better that a few unfortunates suffer than all of society, he thinks.”
The two women sat back, and a second footman placed plates before them, steam still rising from the food.
Lady Mary dug into the beef medallion. “What nonsense. I don’t know the Marquess, otherwise I’d give him a right talking to.”
Smiling, Amanda fed Reggie a bit of beef. “I would enjoy seeing that.” Taking the roll from her plate, she tucked it into the pocket sewn into the skirt of her gown.
“What would you enjoy seeing?” Julius strode into the room and dragged his chair out before the footman could do so. He sank heavily into his seat and draped the white linen napkin across his lap. The fine lines that radiated from his eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into his skin. “I will take you anywhere you wish.”
Warmth coursed through Amanda’s body at the sight of him. An errant strand of hair crossed in front of his eyes, and her fingers itched to brush it back across his brow. It was rare that he would join her and Lady Mary for dinner, but perhaps he was coming to crave her company as much as she was his. Though lord knows they’d seen quite a lot of each other since their affair began. Day or night, Julius would find any excuse to strip her bare and tie her up. To Amanda’s mind, they had done everything together that a man and a woman could. Except for one thing.
She stared down at her plate. They’d never woken up together. Amanda always left his bed alone. Julius would find her soon thereafter to bring her a cup of chocolate and help her dress, but somehow it just wasn’t the same.
Lady Mary bounced in her seat and leaned forward, her sleeve knocking a roll to the floor. Reggie ambled away from Amanda, towards greener pastures. “She wants to speak with the Marquess of Hanford. Perhaps you could take her to Parliament so she could have a word with him?”
Julius’s eyebrows shot up over the rim of his wine glass. He leaned forwards. “Is that so? And what has the Marquess done to deserve such attention?”
Amanda adjusted the second fork next to her plate, making it even with its brethren. “Lady Mary is mistaken. I have no need to speak with the man. His response to my letter was quite sufficient to lay out his point of view on the issue.”
“And, pray tell, what issue was that?” Julius laced his fingers together, his two index fingers extended into a vee, and examined her. It was the type of examination that made Amanda squirm. Julius had done unspeakable things to her just last night, seen her in positions that should make her cheeks flame red with embarrassment, but it was his scrutiny now that made her uncomfortable.
She looked at the row of knives to the right of her plate, but those were all perfectly in line. Picking up a fork, she pushed her peas around. “I wrote to ask him to reconsider his position on that reform bill. He declined. Very politely.” The peas formed eight neat rows, with one green ball to spare. She popped the misfit in her mouth, and considered. The Marquess’s letter was more condescending than polite. But to a man of that stature, even responding to a disgraced woman was an act of great civility. She should be thankful.
“I see.” His eyes glittered darkly. She couldn’t read them. He dropped his gaze to her plate with its organized rows of vegetables. “Your beef is growing cold. Eat up.”
“Can’t you take her to Parliament?” Lady Mary persisted. “He’d have to listen if she explained things to him, face to face.”
“I couldn’t guarantee her reception, but as I said, I would take her anywhere she desired.” Julius sliced into his meat, and Amanda felt a corresponding cut to her heart. He knew as well as she that a trip to Parliament was nowhere in her future. Her jaunts into the garden were one thing. But that was a whole other kettle of fish from venturing into London. Just the thought of the immense buildings, the crowds of people, made her heart pound.
A trickle of sweat started at the nape of her neck and rolled under her collar. She pushed to her feet. Julius hastily stood, as well. “I’m not hungry this evening. I’ll bid you all goodnight.” The footman opened the door for her. “Come, Reggie.” She fled up the stairs, Reggie’s toenails slowly clicking behind her. He didn’t want to leave the table, but it was for his own good that she stopped him from eating too much. He didn’t need another stomach ache.
Shutting her door, she lifted her hand towards the key that rested in the keyhole. No. She stepped back. She wouldn’t let one disappointing letter and the thought of being lost inside Parliament make her slip into old habits. She’d already spent too much time in closets and behind locked doors. Being in her own room, the door closed, was enough.
But it wasn’t enough to keep out visitors.
Julius stepped into the room without knocking. He carried her dinner plate and a glass of wine. “You ate but two bites. You cannot be full already.” Placing the plate on the bed, he shooed Reggie away from the food. He patted the coverlet next to the plate. “Sit.”
Reggie’s haunches hit the floor, and Julius frowned at him.
