“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.”
