Amanda angled her head, exposing inches of neck. “As no one sees my hair but you, Lady Mary, and the servants, I don’t mind.” And she didn’t trust Carter to hire her a trustworthy maid. “Do you really keep no”—she shuddered as his lips caressed her collarbone—“no servants at your home?”
“I could only hope.” He cupped her breast through her clothes. “At my London townhouse, I keep the bare necessity. A cook. A footman who also is my driver. And two maids come in twice a week to clean. Any more servants than that and they’d be in the way as much as this spencer is.” He tried to unbutton it one-handed. “Oh, to hell with this.” He hauled her to the edge of the seat, sending Reggie tumbling to the floor with a panicked yip.
Julius cursed. “I forgot about the blasted dog.” He picked Reggie up and stroked along his fur, checking for injury. Satisfied, he placed the pup on the seat across from them. “He’s fine.”
Reggie glared at him, obviously disagreeing. Turning his back, the dog coiled into a ball and heaved a disgruntled sigh.
Amanda bit her lip, smothering her laughter. She couldn’t smother her yelp of surprise when Julius dragged her onto his lap.
“Julius, I’m not going to allow you liberties on a public street. It would be—”
A carriage rolled past her window, and she bolted upright. Sliding off Julius’s lap, she pressed to the opening, drawing the curtains farther back. “He’s not leaving. He’s arriving. There it is. The coat of arms on that coach. There’s your man.” She pointed to the carriage that turned down the drive and stopped before the front doors of Hanford’s townhouse. A footman hopped from his perch at the back and disappeared around the side.
Julius nudged her to the side so both of them could see out the window. “Are you certain? It was dark last night, and many family arms can look similar. I can’t proceed on intuition.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I saw it well enough last night. That is the coat of arms.”
An older man with white hair and a cane held loosely in one hand sprang up the steps to the front of the townhouse. He threw his head back and laughed at something his butler said. He patted the man on the arm and strode inside.
“Not the most devilish looking of suspects,” Julius muttered.
Amanda frowned. “Looks aren’t everything.” But she had to admit that the Marquess of Hanford looked more like a doting grandfather than someone involved in a blackmailing ring. Still, that sweet old grandfather had no problem sending ten-year-olds to the noose. She pressed her lips together.
Rubbing his jaw, Julius squinted out the window. “I know he has a son, but I don’t think he comes down to London much. I’ve never met him. I wonder how tall he is.”
Amanda settled back into the seat. She thought of the Hanford butler towering over the marquess by several inches. “He might get his height from his mother’s side.”
“Or it might not be him.” He pounded on the ceiling, and the carriage pulled into the road. “I’m still not convinced you identified the right coat of arms.”
“But you’ll investigate just the same? You won’t let him get away just because he’s a marquess?” She didn’t know why this was so important to her. It wasn’t her task to stop the crime ring. And she’d long since reconciled herself to the fact that the world wasn’t fair. Most people were never held to account for their actions. She could only hope justice was served in the afterlife.
Still, she held her breath and waited for his answer. She might not have faith in the world, but she wanted to believe in Julius.
“I’ll investigate.” Sunlight streaked across his jaw, leaving his eyes in shadow. “But you might not like the outcome. Don’t—” He scrubbed his hand across his jaw.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t raise your hopes.” He laid a hand on her knee and squeezed. “Even if Lord Hanford were no longer a member of Parliament, nothing would change. There are a hundred men who believe just as he does.” He shook his head. “The vote won’t change if he’s arrested.”
No, there were thousands of men who supported England’s harsh capital punishment laws. But there were also men like Julius, men who wanted reform. And if enough people fought, maybe the minds of people like Lord Hanford could be changed.
She settled back into her seat and gave Julius a reassuring smile. She understood the chances. But with that letter toThe Timesshe’d taken a positive step to affect change. She was fighting back.
London rolled past the uncovered window, the slanting sunlight making the stone buildings glow pink. Tradesmen hurried home after their days’ labors. Some couples were out for their evening stroll. The city burst with life.
And Amanda didn’t once think about closing the curtains.
Chapter Thirteen
Crossing his legs, Julius bobbed the toe of his boot up and down. Liverpool had said to meet him at nine in the evening, but apparently only Julius was expected to be punctual. The dark wood paneling of White’s back room made the chamber feel smaller. Oppressive.
Loosening the knot of his cravat, Julius breathed deeply through his nose. Amanda had borne her time out on the streets of London a week ago with admirable fortitude. If she could face her fears so well, he could damn well sit in a small room without breaking into a sweat. Even if the room was windowless. With only one door.
He was fine.
He gripped the armrests of his wingback chair. It had been three years since his return from the East. Would he ever feel natural again?
Liverpool stalked through the door, shutting it with greater energy than necessary. Taking the seat across from Julius, the older statesman crooked his elbow on the armrest and rested his jaw on his knuckles.
