A single bright sunbeam broke onto the carpet. A stone sparkled. The locket lay where Alice should be.
He stared at it.
He stood. Hands on hips he gazed around a library now devoid of any evidence of her. He might have dreamed it all.
He picked up the locket and shoved it in a pocket. Then he cursed loudly and profanely.
Chapter Eight
Amanda worked the journal accounts at a table in the club’s library while the ladies planned the next issue ofParnassus. She eavesdropped shamelessly. She listened harder when the discussion veered off into tangents concerning society. She knew none of the people mentioned, but she still enjoyed the gossip.
After half an hour, one topic did touch on names she knew.
“I am told that bill on penal reform in the House of Lords is finding more support,” Lady Farnsworth said.
“I am not surprised,” Mrs. Galbreath said. “Brentworth took it up. With his name attached, many will give it better consideration.”
“Let us not forget it was not he who conceived it.” Lady Farnsworth smiled meaningfully. “Rather, one of his oldest friends did. Langford spoke most eloquently on its need, I am told.”
“Perhaps you should not take all the credit for Langford being moved to do so. Your essay was published almost a year ago.”
On the mention of that name, Amanda flushed. She hunched over her desk lest someone glance over and notice her hot face.
She had not yet reconciled herself to her behavior four nights ago. Try as she might to castigate herself, the only regret she could summon was that she would never know such intimacy again. Her emotions remained wistful and deep. Memories emerged throughout the day that affected her mind and soul.
“There is evidence he took my words much to heart. Much evidence. He saw himself in my description, I am sure. Who knows what benefits to the realm and to himself will be wrought over time.”
“Untold benefits, I am sure. However, it is possible that something else inspired him on this bill,” Lady Grace said.
“I am at a loss to think of anything else.”
“Maybe he knows a criminal whose punishment he found excessive.”
Amanda almost broke her pen point. Ink splattered over the account page. She blotted quickly and pretended to be very busy indeed.
“He is a hedonist and irresponsible but he does not cavort with criminals,” Lady Farnsworth said with a chortle. “Heavens, what a notion. Have you some information of which the rest of us are unaware? If not, even implying such a thing is rash.”
“I merely say that perhaps we should not assume our little journal changes a man’s character too completely.”
“Is his character so changed as that?” Mrs. Dalton asked.
Lady Grace did not reply at once. Amanda wondered if she would. She sneaked a glance over at the group. Lady Grace was indulging in a cake.
“If you must know,” Lady Grace said, “he has not been seen with a woman in some time. Weeks.”
“That is not very long.”
“It is for him.”
“Perhaps he is being discreet.”
“Langford is never discreet. He flaunts his affairs. He takes his mistresses to dinner parties and drapes them in jewels.”
“It may just be another small change in his character.” Amanda recognized the soft voice of the rarely vocal Mrs. Clark. “The discretion, I mean. Not the—that is to say, he may still enjoy female company, only not so publicly.”
“He needs to marry, of course,” Lady Farnsworth said. “One more duty that he has neglected. If he should perish without a son, the title will go to that brother of his who is almost a hermit.”
“Too distracted to recognize himself in an essay designed to scold him, you mean,” Mrs. Galbreath said.
