Her humor matched the dreary day. The recent lure by Langford had shadowed her since last night, when, painfully aware of what she rejected, she had not gone to him again.
The decision had not come easily. She had ached to comply with that new notice. It flattered her that the duke continued to pursue her. She did not lie to herself about his interest. At the moment, she was a novelty for a man bored from years of adventures with women. All the same, the pull toward him had been strong. He may have experienced nothing truly deep in that last encounter, but she had known a warmth of connection that had been denied her for most of her life.
She almost had gone.What could it hurt? You owe it to yourself. That was how her inner debate went. On the other side, her heart weighed in, reminding her that further intimacy would only cause pain when she had to turn away from it altogether.
So she turned away last night instead. She sat in her cellar chamber picturing what she missed, hearing the duke amuse her with his banter, feeling the pleasure he knew so well how to give. She imagined again her armor dropping away until her vulnerability trembled and his presence melted into her.
She approached the counter. Mr. Peterson knew her by sight since she had been coming here for years, but he still waited for her to request the letters left to her false name of Mrs. Bootlescamp. He rustled through a box out of sight below the counter. He lifted a letter, and handed it over.
She grasped the letter and stared. It had taken long enough to get here. She had begun to wonder if it ever would.
Normally she would wait until she returned home to read it, or at least leave this shop first. Today she pretended to peer inside a print bin while she broke the seal.
The address to Mrs. Bootlescamp was not in her mother’s hand, nor were the few lines in the letter. Another person had penned them.
Wrap well and safely and leave with the proprietor at Morris’s Grocery on Great Sutton Street near Red Lion Square on June 24, to be picked up by Mr. Trenholm.
That was all. No reassurances that her mother would be released or even remained in good health. That the kidnapper probably had written this, and not her mother, worried her.
Morris’s Grocery. A new place. She did not like that. Why not the same directions as for the brooch? And why so long before delivery too?
Mama would have never counseled such carelessness.It is important to move the goods fast. It doesn’t do to be caught with them. Of course, the danger did not lie with her captor. Amanda would be the one holding stolen goods all that time. Perhaps Mama had refused to write the letter because of that.
She saw only one good thing about the directions. She could use the time for another purpose. She could lay her own plans carefully, and take steps to ensure their success.
She plotted her course while she walked home in the rain. Upon entering her building, she found Katherine sniffling outside the stairs to the cellar.
“Have you some fuel?” Katherine asked. “I’ve the chills and the damp is in my bones. I went to the tavern and the man sent me home. Too sick, he said. His patrons would object, he said.”
Amanda let them both in. She set a chair near the hearth and lit a low fire. “You don’t sleep or eat enough. That is why you have a summer fever.” She plucked one of her knit shawls off a peg and draped it around Katherine’s shoulders.
“Need to work late if there’s ale to lay down, don’t I? I never learned to sleep during the day in town. Too much noise. Back home on a summer morning I never wanted to get out of bed but had to for chores. Things never seem to match up.”
Amanda touched Katherine’s forehead. “You’ve a fever for certain. Once it breaks, you will feel better in one way and worse in another.”
“If it breaks.”
Amanda chose not to think about the fevers that never broke. Katherine did not appear especially weak yet, nor did she feel all that hot.
She set about warming the soup on the hearth hook.
“You never told me about your meeting with that lord,” Katherine said.
Amanda busied herself with supper while she decided what to say.
“Not that you have to tell me about it,” Katherine added.
“There is not much to tell. We met, I left, and I have not seen him since.”
“Was he a gentleman after all, then?”
Amanda reached for two bowls off a shelf so her back might be to Katherine and her expression invisible. “Yes. Very much a gentleman.”
“Oh. How disappointing.”
Amanda laughed, because ithadbeen disappointing.
“Not even one kiss?” Katherine asked. “There’s something wrong with him if he didn’t even try one kiss.”
