Stalking to Sutton, the proprietress tried to grab the book from his hand, but he held it out of reach. “That is proof of nothing. Merely some notes.”
Sutton opened the journal. “Aidan, Marquess of Derry. Likes to wear a lead and be made to bark like a dog. Five hundred pounds. Harry Cockburn, second son of the Earl of Manchester. Likes spanking men who are dressed as women. Eight hundred and fifty pounds.” He snapped the book shut. “I guess the tupping goes without saying.”
“Notes to help me run my business better.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Madame Sable stalked back to her seat and sank down.
“And the quid amounts?” Julius asked. “I know the fees here are much greater than those amounts. But still a nice cut for doling out information to blackmailers.” He tapped a crystal dangling from the sconce of a gas lamp and watched it swing. “Did you need the money? I thought this club was more than profitable.”
“The Black Rose is extremely profitable. And your accusations couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I don’t think so.” Julius came to Amanda and put a hand at her waist. “And unfortunately for you, the men I work with will take my suspicions as fact. Life is about to become very unpleasant for you. Unless you cooperate.”
The woman sniffed. “You work for the government, I assume. Those aren’t the men who scare me.”
“Then you haven’t been properly introduced.” With firm pressure, Julius guided Amanda to the door. “Sutton will be more than happy to show you just who you’re dealing with.”
Amanda saw the woman shrink away from Sutton as Julius closed the door. The baron’s broad back blocked her view of the proprietress just as the door clicked shut. Gripping her elbow, Julius hustled her down the stairs.
“But we can’t just leave them.” Amanda turned at the foot of the staircase and tried to push back up. Julius tucked an arm under her cloak and banded her waist. He all but carried her into the main room.
“Sutton won’t harm her. Not truly.” He found an empty settee along the wall. “But she needs to believe he will, and if we are in the room, the illusion will be harder to sell.” He pressed her down into the red silk cushion. “And she doesn’t deserve your sympathy. She’s responsible for hurting many people.”
“So you think. She has yet to be convicted of it in a court.” Not that the courts had done Amanda much good. But her sense of justice demanded fair play for those suspected of wrongdoing, even if she was nearly certain they were guilty. Especially then.
The hard lines of Julius’s face softened. He crouched before her. “As I said, no true harm will come to the woman. But she has information we need. Information that could save lives. We need to let Sutton work.” He rubbed the skirts above her knee. “And you and Madame Sable are not of a kind.”
Amanda laughed, the sound harsh, grating. “I’ve killed. You accuse her only of selling private information. Her alleged crime doesn’t compare.”
Frowning, he stood and plucked a column of champagne off the nearest serving girl’s tray. He pressed it into her hand. “You’re right. There is no comparison. You acted in self-defense. She acts from greed.”
“That still doesn’t mean she should be …” Amanda cleared her throat. “Are you certain your friend won’t hurt her?”
“I’m certain,” he said. “But if it will ease your mind, I’ll go back upstairs and ensure the situation hasn’t gotten out of hand.”
She nodded slowly. She didn’t want to be in the club without him, but her worry over the madam’s well-being overrode her nerves.
“Any other concerns before I leave?”
“Yes. One.” Amanda tilted her head. “Why did Sutton laugh when you introduced me as Mrs. Matthew Walker? Is that another friend of yours?”
“No.” The edges of his lips tipped up. He leaned into her space, his breath hot against her lips. “A Matthew Walker is a type of knot. Not of much use for binding a woman, but lovely just the same. He is all too familiar with my predilections. Now”—he tucked her cloak securely about her—“will you be all right sitting here alone?”
Rolling the stem of the wine glass between her fingers, she swallowed. “I’ll be fine,” she lied.
With a curt nod, he strode for the stairs.
Adjusting her mask, Amanda examined the room. A young woman sat on a man’s lap across on an opposite settee, but other than that the scene appeared almost respectable. But very crowded. She fixed her gaze on a chandelier, trying to block out the rest of the room. Julius would be back soon and then they could go home. She’d had quite the adventure, but now she wanted the comfort of her own bed.
Her gaze drifted to the stairwell Julius had entered. Any moment now he’d return. A portly man leaning against the far wall, raised his glass to her, and winked. She tucked her cloak more tightly around her, grateful now for the warmth. Mouth dry, she tossed back a swallow of champagne and looked back at the ceiling. There were an awful lot of candles in the chandelier. Perhaps if she started counting them …
Raucous laughter made her drop her gaze. The couple across from her had begun a playful tussle on their settee. A man stepped from the hallway to her right, adjusting his cravat. A tall, cadaverous man with light brown hair and a thin mustache. Her heart knocked against the corset. There had to be many men who met Dawnley’s description of his blackmailer. Men so slender that they appeared like scarecrows. Men with that unfashionable facial hair. Men who frequented the very club Dawnley had been taken to. The tall man headed for the front door, stopping only when a serving girl put a hand on his arm and gave him a coy smile.
Amanda closed her eyes. What were the odds of all of that being a coincidence? Glancing at the stairs, she willed Julius to appear. He didn’t. Downing half of her champagne, she plopped the glass down on a side table and pushed to her feet. She took a step towards the stairs.
The serving girl dipped a curtsy, giving the man a nice view down her dress, and moved on with her tray of drinks. Tall man headed for the door.
Her head throbbed and indecision made her feet feel like lead. Julius wouldn’t want her interrupting whatever was happening upstairs, but he wanted this man. And if she did run upstairs, chances were the tall man would have disappeared before Julius could follow.
A party of gentlemen gathered in front of the entrance to Madame Sable’s chambers, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, singing drunkenly. And the portly man who had caught her eye earlier fixed her in his sight and headed her way.
