“Good morning, Miss Wilcox,” he said. “Breakfast is on the sideboard. Help yourself.”
Lady Mary, her ivory hair tucked up under a lace cap, looked up from her egg. She smiled at Amanda and waved her spoon in acknowledgment before focusing back on her breakfast.
Reggie was not so restrained with his greeting. He bounded over and met her at the buffet, slipping on the waxed wood floor. He jumped on her thighs, barking excitedly.
Amanda pointed at the floor. “Down.” The pup slouched to the floor. She fed him a bit of ham and stroked his back. “Good boy.”
The husky burn of her voice rolled through Julius like whiskey. His cock perked up, and he sat down, scooting his chair under the table. Reggie rolled onto his back, and Amanda rubbed his brown belly. Julius glared at the dog. Lucky bastard.
Julius could have her. He could take her back to her room and be sliding deep inside of her in under ten minutes. The heat between her legs when he’d cupped her had nearly undone him. It had definitely made him doubt his decision. But there had also been fear in her eyes. He wouldn’t take her, not when she’d be comparing him to a ghost.
And not when there was a chance he’d endanger his friendship with Marcus. Julius had few close friends. He couldn’t afford to lose one.
Amanda placed a few bits on her plate and sat at the table. “Good morning, Lady Mary. I looked for you earlier this morning, but you’d already left your room.”
The older woman looked up and adjusted her spectacles. “Good morning, dear. I went for a walk with Jane. If you leave early enough, you can see those newfangled gas lamps still lit.”
Lady Mary’s maid, Jane, was nearly as old as Marcus’s aunt. Julius supposed he could ask her to take over Amanda’s dressing duty until a replacement was found. He took a sip of coffee. The thought of giving over that duty didn’t hold appeal.
He was a stupid, stupid man. Just when he’d concluded he couldn’t have her, he decided to subject himself to a daily vision of Amanda in her undergarments.
Amanda reached for the pot of chocolate and poured herself a cup. “You aren’t nervous standing next to one? I’ve heard stories of grand explosions.” She settled her mug at a right angle with her plate and lined her silverware up beneath. Each fork and knife were spaced equally apart, Julius noted. Another reminder of Amanda’s need to order her surroundings. Another reason why they wouldn’t suit. In his liaisons, Julius needed to be the one in control.
“Stuff and nonsense.” The chaperone placed the tip of her knife at the top of her soft-boiled egg. She tapped her spoon onto the knife’s handle, as though it were a chisel. “Marvelous inventions,” she continued. “Pretty soon, there will be no need for wood for our fireplaces. Gas is like ether; it’s everywhere. And then think how tall the forests will grow.”
Julius slid his gaze to Amanda. A tiny vee creased her forehead. Good. She was as confused as he.
“More chocolate, Lady Mary?” he asked. Once the older woman got started on a subject, it could be hours until she finished. And her thoughts were a warren of non-sequiturs and half-formed ideas. Julius paused. WhyhadMarcus sent such a dotty old woman to be Amanda’s chaperone? Because he trusted Julius so much that a competent one wasn’t needed?
Amanda picked up his paper. “Where are you off to today, Lord Rothchild?” she asked, not lifting her head.
“Off to?”
“You never spend a day within. It’s as though you find the duke’s home unpleasant.” The paper snapped in her hands. “Or its occupants.”
He narrowed his eyes. She was not so silly as to think that, was she? But she could hardly know that to him enclosed spaces were their own form of torture.
“I enjoy the fresh air.” Craved it. Even now in this open breakfast room with the sun shining through the large windows, his skin itched. That itch was his constant companion until he stepped out of doors and filled his lungs with fresh air. “I would be more than happy to escort you and Lady Mary out of doors. Perhaps a nice drive through Hyde Park?”
Her shoulders turned to stone. “Not today, thank you.”
“No.” Lady Mary fed Reggie a strip of bacon. “I wouldn’t want to go outside when a storm is brewing.”
Julius looked at the blinding blue sky and sighed.
“Ju— Lord Rothchild, did you read this article?” Amanda turned the paper and pointed at the front-page story. “About the proposed law eliminating capital punishment for children under ten. It lost a vote in the House of Lords.”
He buttered a roll and placed it in her hand. She’d filled out from the emaciated woman he’d rescued from Newgate, but she still tended to eat too little. He’d found it was easiest to feed her when she was distracted. Each morning he added more food to his plate for the purpose.
“I didn’t have to read the article,” he said. “I was there for the vote.”
She paused, the roll inches from her mouth, and glared at him in outrage.
“I voted for the law to pass,” he hastily added. “But the opposition led by the Marquess of Hanford was strong. He convinced the assembly that if the law passed the streets of London would run red with blood, violent criminals would take over, and life as we knew it would come to an end.”
“The violent ten-year-olds would destroy London?” Amanda tore into the roll and chewed viciously, eyes narrowed. “How many men voted against it?”
He added a bit of beef to her plate, pushed the fork into her hand. “I believe the measure lost by thirty-six votes.”
