“You have ambitions beyond eliminating capital punishment.” Lady Mary pulled out another treat. She pointed to the floor, and Reggie slid to his belly. As soon as the morsel was in his mouth, he popped back up to his haunches.
Mrs. Fry nodded. “Capital punishment is just the first step. Every reasonable person should understand the injustice of executing children and adults for petty crimes. But so much more needs to be done.”
“Then you debate Lord Hanford!” Amanda stood. “You have the passion and the knowledge of the subject. Why come to me?”
“Hanford has already engaged with you.” Mrs. Fry flattened her lips. “He’s responded to you when he never has to me. I think it is because of your unique position. Someone who was nearly executed by mistake, without the benefit of a fair trial. And the sister of a duchess. That gives you leverage. A voice most people do not have. You need to use it.”
Pounding her fist into her thigh, Amanda spun away from the women. It all sounded so easy coming from Mrs. Fry’s mouth. But the reformer was confident. She couldn’t understand the way Amanda’s throat closed up just thinking about facing a crowd.
Lady Mary tried to be the voice of reason. “Perhaps we should look into a way to make Hanford take notice of you, Mrs. Fry. If you co-wrote a piece with Amanda, that would bring you to the marquess’s attention.”
“Miss Wilcox is the one with the notoriety,” Mrs. Fry insisted. “All the letters to the editor are directed to her. She is the obvious choice.”
“Well, I have every confidence that Amanda will do what she feels is right.” Lady Mary stirred a lump of sugar into her tea with a decided manner. Her spoon clinked heavily against the china, and each strike of the teacup felt like a blow to Amanda’s body. Everyone thought she could be stronger than she was. Had faith in her. And she was going to let them all down.
The walls that had always felt so safe loomed close. Amanda’s stomach heaved, and she clenched her hands together. For so long, safety had been her goal. Going to bed without fear had been a luxury, one she wouldn’t take for granted. But safety was no longer enough. She wanted to be free.
Something tugged on her skirt. She looked down, and Reggie whined, pawing at her leg. He needed to go out.
She sucked down a large breath, forced her shoulders to unclench.
And she was going to be the one to take him.
Resolved, she turned to face her guests. “Reggie needs a walk. I’ll leave you with Lady Mary. Enjoy your afternoon, ladies.”
She strode from the room, tapping her thigh. “Come, Reggie.” His nails clicked on the wood floor behind her. When she asked the footman to fetch his lead, Reggie spun in paroxysms of delight. Or confusion. He’d never seen Amanda with the lead before.
She attached it to his collar and faced the door the footman swung open.
The young man eyed her curiously and raised an insolent eyebrow as the seconds ticked by and she didn’t move. “Shall I take the dog for his walk?”
“I can do it.” Her voice wheezed through her throat, thin and thready.
“I don’t suppose you need an attendant.”
Amanda didn’t know if that was a question or a statement. Either way, she wouldn’t make it if a footman followed ten steps behind, watching her every stumbling step.
“I don’t suppose I do.” She took a step forwards. Another. Her forward momentum was made easier as Reggie tugged at the lead, eager for the out-of-doors. The slanting afternoon sun caught her across the face, and she squinted. The glare made it easier to step across the threshold. She didn’t see the barrier. But she felt the change in the air as soon as she crossed it.
Reggie yipped and strained for the steps down to the drive. The lead slid through her fingers, and she readjusted her grip, holding the loop firmly between her cold hands.
Three steps until she reached the top of the stairs. Reggie stared up at her from the bottom, prancing in a circle, encouraging her on. Two steps down, and she stood on the curb. If she broke her journey down into small segments, it would be possible. It would be roughly fifty paces until she reached the street. She could walk fifty paces.
Bringing her hands to her mouth, she blew on the stinging skin. She’d forgotten her gloves. And a coat. She looked over her shoulder at the open rectangle of the front door. The footman stood to the side, watching her like she was a monkey in a menagerie.
If she went back for her gloves, she wouldn’t come back out.
Setting her shoulders, she forced her feet forward. She counted each step, staring at the pavement in front of her. When she hit fifty, she started counting up from one again. Any number higher than fifty made her throat close and her lungs burn.
She reached the street at thirty-four paces, and shied back when a man hurried past. Reggie sniffed at a bush, squatting to pee, and Amanda let him take his time. She stared at the ground and tried to block the world out. She couldn’t look back at the house. If she saw the distance between herself and safety …
The sounds from the street were strangely deadened. All she heard clearly were the ragged breaths clawing in and out of her throat. She kept her elbows pressed tight to her sides and tried to take up as little room as possible on the sidewalk.
Reggie tugged her ahead and she stumbled, losing count of her first few steps. The sound of her heartbeat thrashed in her ears, blocking out even her pants. Her legs trembled, went soft, and she had to grab onto the fence next to her to stay upright.
Reggie danced around her, tangling the lead.
She couldn’t catch her breath. It was like she was wearing ten corsets at once, each one pulled tighter than the next. Little black spots swam in front of her eyes.
