Julius tore the letter from his friend’s hand and scanned the document.
Sutton frowned at Julius. “This Zed had become most concerned about the support your Miss Wilcox is raising among the Cits with her pieces inThe Times. He wanted Hanford to shut her up.”
“‘By any means necessary.’” The pounding of Julius’s pulse slowed to match the ticking of the clock. Or perhaps time was slowing to match his stalled heart. If this Zed and Hanford were determined to stop her letters, what would they do to stop her from publicly speaking? His mind emptied of thought, leaving only grim determination. “I have to go.”
“We’ll all go,” Dunkeld said.
Summerset spread his hands out, encompassing the office that was littered with evidence of their visit. “This is supposed to be a stealth operation. Hanford isn’t to know we’ve been here.”
“I don’t care, I’m going.” Julius turned for the door. Calm enveloped him like a warm blanket. He’d become an expert during his time in the East at tamping out emotion. Fear and panic were useless when it came time to fight. And he had no doubt that time had come. Amanda was out there alone, unprotected … He ground his jaw so hard the back of his neck ached. No, he couldn’t think of that. Of her. He needed to concentrate on the fight ahead. “The rest of you stay and clean up. Take down what information you can. I’m going to get Amanda.” He strode through the door.
Someone cursed behind him. Sutton’s voice reached him as though through a tunnel. “Dunkeld, go with him. Summerset and I will stay and join you later.”
A heavy hand landed on Julius’s shoulder bringing him up short. Julius blinked up at Dunkeld.
“We can’t use the front door. This way.” Dunkeld led him out the side, across the yard, and down an alley to where their carriage was waiting. He pushed Julius inside and told their driver where to go.
Climbing inside, Dunkeld pounded on the roof, and the carriage jerked into motion. “She’s at Simon’s. Nothing bad ever happens under that roof. The club is filled with adolescent, self-satisfied twats, but they wouldn’t let a woman come to harm.”
Julius nodded. He sat very still, and willed the carriage to move faster. In his mind, he could still hear the ticking of that damn clock.
In the dark part of him, the part that had never truly left his prison, he knew that time had run out for him and Amanda.
***
Lady Mary pulled open the bottom door on a mahogany bureau and peered inside. “I’ve always wondered what went on in these gentlemen’s clubs. What they were doing that was so illicit that women couldn’t be allowed to see.”
“Have you found anything?” Rubbing her damp palms along the front of her skirts, Amanda ignored the quaver in her voice. As long as she was able to make the words she wanted come out of her mouth, she was fine. A tremor here or there was of no matter.
Because people won debates all the time whilst sounding like scared little mice.
Amanda sagged into her brocade chair. This was a doomed endeavor. Except, she didn’t have to win. She placed both hands on her stomach and took a deep breath. She only needed to delay Hanford.
“Are you certain Mrs. Fry said she’d come?”
Dropping a cigar back in a drawer, Lady Mary pushed it shut with her hip and sauntered to the bookcase. “That’s what she wrote. Did you really think she’d miss this?”
No. That was too much to hope for. Amanda didn’t mind losing the debate if it meant she’d helped Julius. But failing miserably in front of the earnest reformer— “And the rest of the Ladies’ Society?”
“Mrs. Fry is rounding all of them up.” Lady Mary shot her a warm smile. “You will have much support from the crowd.”
She would fail in front of the lot of them. “Oh. Good.” Perhaps, Amanda consoled herself, the women would be denied entrance. Stomach quivering, Amanda focused on keeping her tea down and stared at the closed door. Julius’s acquaintance, Lord Bertrand Waverly, had seated them in a back room and told them he’d return when it was time to speak. The look of glee on his face as he anticipated the debacle to come had almost sent Amanda fleeing back into the carriage.
The room at least was small and windowless, an interior chamber with two doors. The one they’d entered opened onto the hallway. The other, Amanda didn’t know. But the cloistered space helped to calm her nerves.
Lady Mary finished her perambulation of the room and stood in the center. She planted her fists on her wide hips. “Cigars and liquor. No different than any drawing room. I don’t understand the great appeal.”
Amanda shrugged. “A place where gentlemen don’t have to worry about offending the fairer sex, where they can say, or behave, in any manner they wish. Everyone deserves such freedom.”
“Except for women, apparently.” Perching on the armrest of a chair, Lady Mary fluffed out the skirt of her lavender gown. “We don’t have such clubs.”
“You could always start one.”
Pursing her mouth, Lady Mary tapped a finger to her lips. “That is an interesting idea.”
Amanda opened her mouth. She hadn’t been serious. But the door swung inward, and she fell silent.
The Marquess of Hanford stood in the opening, the black silk of his coat glimmering in the lamplight. The pointed tips of his collar were so starched they left little red imprints in the soft skin of his neck. His valet had spared no expense in dressing his master for the debate.
