Amanda looked down at her own dress. The preparations for the night had been rushed, and she hadn’t bothered changing from her day gown. The faded Mornine fabric was neat and serviceable, and looked like pauper’s rags next to the marquess.
He clapped his hands together. “My dear, here you are! I wanted to advise you before you spoke. I’m certain public discourse is unfamiliar to you, and I thought you could benefit from my many years of oration.”
Amanda narrowed her eyes. If she hadn’t seen the evidence with her own eyes, she would still believe him a sweet old man dedicated to his cause. But like many politicians, he spoke with a serpent’s tongue.
“You are Miss Wilcox, I presume? Come, come, you must be.”
Amanda nodded.
“And who is this charming lady?” he asked.
Amanda and Lady Mary stood, and Amanda made the introductions.
Hanford clicked his heels together and bowed deeply. “Charming. Simply charming. Cavindish.” His bushy grey eyebrows drew together. “Did we meet at the prince’s annual Michaelmas ball?”
Lady Mary patted her bun. “I think I’d remember meeting a gentleman such as yourself. Also, I make it a point not to celebrate Michaelmas. I have a bone to pick with that particular archangel. As an administrator of cosmic intelligence, he has been much too lax when it comes to informing the populace in the recklessness of the unadulterated slaughter of geese.”
“Uh …” Hanford blew out his cheeks and slid a glance at Amanda.
She frowned at her chaperone. Now really wasn’t the time to act the mental incompetent. Between her and Hanford, it was like watching a joust of who could act the biggest idiot. She cleared her throat. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight. I wasn’t certain you would.”
He flashed his incisors at her. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it. I think the public deserves an informed debate.”
Amanda’s body tensed. Informed debate, her foot. But now wasn’t the time to antagonize the marquess. She’d save her anger for the stage. Perhaps it would help her to find her voice.
Lady Mary glided to a side table and adjusted the mirror hanging above it. “What is it exactly that you gentlemen do here at Simon’s? I’m thinking of opening a ladies’ club, and am curious about your activities.”
“A ladies’ club?” Hanford tossed his head back and loosed peals of laughter. “What on earth would a group of women do at a club?”
Lady Mary tapped her fingers along the marble top of the table and plastered a wide smile on her face. “That’s why I asked you about your club’s activities. To determine our options.”
“It is a sound idea.” If it had sounded foolish to Amanda before, the marquess’s mockery had transformed it to an outstanding proposition. “Women want the freedom to act without the strictures imposed by male society.”
“Isn’t that what your sitting rooms are for?” he asked.
Lady Mary and Amanda stared at him, unblinking.
He straightened his cravat. “Yes. Well, if you are that interested, I’m more than happy to show you around the club. I’m not a member here, but many of my friends are. I’ll introduce you, and you can see what we’re all about.”
Lady Mary rolled up onto her toes. “That would be lovely.” She glanced at Amanda and her smile faltered. “But I’m here to support Miss Wilcox. I don’t suppose you’d like to go on the tour, dear?”
Mingle among the crowds, people who would love to jeer at her, snub her? No, that wasn’t at the top of her list. She shook her head. “But you go if you want the tour. I’m happy to wait here.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. A public tour in a well-respected club couldn’t be dangerous to Lady Mary, could it? Even if the tour was led by a criminal.
Maybe she should go along.
“Wonderful.” Lady Mary bustled to the door and waited for Hanford to open it. “I’ll be back soon, and I’m sure the Ladies’ Society will be here at any moment.”
With a swish of satin, Lady Mary swept from the room. Hanford dipped his head, a slight smile dancing around his lips. “Goodbye, Miss Wilcox.” He tapped the wall three times in quick succession, then left the room, closing the door with a decided snick behind him.
Amanda’s scalp prickled. She stepped forward, hesitated. Lady Mary really should be safe with the marquess in public, and it wasn’t as though she was a helpless, old lady. But Hanford’s behavior had been decidedly odd.
A slight whisper of air on the back of her neck sent a shiver racing down her spine. She rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the chill.
Another set of arms wrapped around her from behind. Large, strong, and tight as a python. She opened her mouth to scream, and a meaty palm slapped across her mouth. The man easily lifted her off the ground and turned to the open door in the back of the room. Amanda kicked at him and struggled to pull her arms loose from his hold, to no avail.
Her head started to swim, pinpricks of light dancing before her eyes. She managed to suck down the barest amount of air between his fingers, but it wasn’t enough.
As he carried her through the door and kicked it closed behind them, she realized it wasn’t Lady Mary she should have been worried about.
