Amanda had to scramble to remember that Olivia was now Lady Bradford.
How could she answer the woman? And why did she want to know Lord Warwick’s location? Where they lovers? Was that it? Suddenly, a flash of anger flared inside of Amanda’s chest.
“I am sorry, Lady Simpson. I can’t help you,” Amanda said, holding the other woman’s stare.
The countess looked at her for a long moment, as if judging her integrity. At last, her shoulder’s slumped. “A shame, I really needed to talk to him.”
Amanda knew she needed to steer this woman away. An image of women turning their backs on her flashed into her mind. She needed to get her out of her house as soon as possible.
Shrugging, she said, “I am sorry, but Lord Warwick and myself don’t exactly travel in the same circles. Have you tried the gambling dens? Or perhaps one of the bordellos. From what I hear, he spends quite a bit of time there.”
Lady Simpson stepped back, obviously shocked.
“There is no need to be crude,” the woman said, shaking her head with disbelief that Amanda could even think of criticizing a British Lord.
Amanda gave Lady Simpson her best smile. The one she reserved for women she thought unintelligent and not worth her time.
The two women looked at each other for a second then Lady Simpson backed down and pulled at her gloves again.
“Yes, well. I thought perhaps... But it seems I was wrong. Please forgive me for intruding on your day.”
Amanda turned to open the front door, “It is of no matter, you are always welcome here, Lady Simpson.”
The woman looked at her again then at the front door. At last, she thanked Amanda one last time then departed, her head held high. As if she should be thanked for visiting.
Amanda closed the door behind her and then rested her back against it. What was that all about? Then, pushing herself off the door, she rushed upstairs.
“Why does that woman want to talk to you?” she asked as she stepped into the room. “Do you have any idea what would happen to me if people discovered you had been under this roof for a week. They would believe I was your mistress.”
Molly sent her a confused look for a second then scurried out the door.
Lord Warwick winced. “You are right of course. I will leave you at once.” Twisting, he tried to get his legs over the side of the bed.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said as she rushed to him and gently pushed his legs back onto the bed. “And don’t believe you have to fix everything. I asked if you were aware, not to fix things.”
“Besides,” she continued. “I won’t have you leaving until we know it is safe.”
Lord Warwick frowned then slumped back onto the bed.
“I will let you rest, we can talk about this some more later,” she told him.
He sighed slightly and closed his eyes, then opened them again to say, “I need to send a note to my mother.”
Amanda’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The last thing she would have imagined was this man worrying about what his mother might think.
“I will get you some paper and ink.”
Lord Warwick scoffed, “I can’t write, my arm is not working as it should. Not yet. I will need you to write it for me.”
“Of course,” she said as she saw the look of doubt in his eyes. He was worried, she realized. Worried about what he would be able to do once his arm and hip healed. Would he be the same man? His concerns were written all over his face for just a flash, then quickly, he put them behind him and feigned that British aristocratic nonchalance he was famous for.
She retrieved her portable writing desk from her room and arranged it on her lap as she waited for him.
He thought for a moment then said. “Please, just write, ‘Caught two fish, but the waters are beautiful,’ then sign it Toad.”
“Toad?” she asked.
He laughed slightly. “It is a name my brother gave to me. A prank he pulled on our governess that I was blamed for.”
Amanda smiled to herself. What had it been like to be raised with brothers? As an only child, she had often wondered what it would be like to have a sibling.
Finishing the note, he gave her an address then instructed her to make sure she had a street urchin deliver the note. Under no circumstances could she be seen approaching his home.
Amanda nodded as she sealed the note.
“Anyone else, the government perhaps?”
He shook his head no. “One of the men I suspect works in the foreign office. I can’t risk it.”
Her stomach tightened up. A man in their own government might be supplying the enemy with information. The sense of betrayal was immense. This man travels in a different world, she realized. No wonder he presents so many different fronts.
Glancing up from the letter in her hands, she found Lord Warwick already asleep. The small effort of writing had wrung the last bit of energy out of him.
She would let him rest and check his bandages when she returned. In the meantime, she would make sure this note was delivered. No mother should have to worry about her son’s wellbeing.
But before she stood up, she sat for a moment and watched him. He was so different than the man she had thought he was. So not the callow rake, not the frivolous lord. All form, no function. No this was a man who placed his life on the line daily. A man who risked everything to fight for something greater than himself.
A man to be admired, she realized with a start. So not the Lord Warwick she had always pictured in her mind.
Chapter Five
Lord Warwick felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as Miss Amanda, his angel, bent over him to check the bandage on his hip. The soft scent of lavender and rose washed over him.
Peering intently at his wound, she scrunched up her nose to keep her spectacles from falling off. She was just too adorable, he thought.
She had been kind enough to leave the blanket placed to provide him with some sense of modesty. But after ten days of nursing. He felt as if this woman knew his body better than he did himself.
“They are looking good,” she said as she gently probed and touched. He cringed internally as he fought to maintain control of his body. Something about her touch made him forget he was a gentleman and just want to sink into a heaven where Amanda’s touch was all he felt.
“The infection is going away.” She said without looking up. “I think that ointment the doctor gave us really helped. The wounds are closing.”
All he could do was grit his teeth and wait until she was done. God, please hurry he thought. If he became physically aroused at that moment, he would never be able to look her in the eye again.
At last, she pulled the blanket and sheets back over him. He sighed internally.
“I need clothes,” he said as he adjusted himself in the bed.
“Clothes,? Why? You are not well enough yet.”
He glanced up at her, there were times he could swear that she enjoyed keeping him there. Helpless, under her control.
“Regardless. I need clothes. I need to be up and about. There are things I must do. Besides, I have been a burden long enough.
She stepped back and placed both hands on her hips. “John, you have not been a burden. And I refuse to allow you to damage what we have accomplished. No, it is too soon.”
He bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from barking at her. No one told him what he could or could not do. Even if she was his angel. But instead, he tried to smile sweetly.
“Amanda, tomorrow I will be getting up. Hopefully, in a few days, I will be leaving this house. If you want me to do so naked. I will. But I believe your neighbors might be shocked. I know that Molly will be.”
Amanda frowned fiercely, she obviously hated being thwarted. One of the many things he liked about her. But in this matter, there would be no discussion.
At last, she threw up her hands and said. “Fine, but it is on your head.” Then she turned and stormed out of the room. Slamming the door a little
more than she intended to.
He felt a twinge of guilt. The woman had done so much for him. He wouldn’t be alive without her. The last thing he wanted was to upset her. But she needed to understand that he would not be dictated to.
Sighing, he started working his right shoulder. Rolling it, lifting the arm slightly off the bed. After ten minutes he was able to raise the arm almost three inches before having to let it sink back onto the bed.
“A half-drowned kitten has more strength,” he muttered to himself as the recurring fear ate at the pit of his stomach. What would he do if he didn’t regain the strength of his arm? What if he couldn’t walk again? How could he finish the things he wanted to accomplish.
And what would the women of the ton think? Oh, how attractive, a crippled Lord. No, that was not how he wanted to be thought of. He could well imagine the snickers and rolled eyes.
His wandering thoughts were interrupted by Molly barging into the room without knockings.
“What did you do to Miss Amanda?” she demanded as she half dropped his food tray onto the table next to the bed.
“Good afternoon to you too Molly,” Warwick said as he pulled himself up into a sitting position.
Molly frowned at him, “Don’t you be using that charm on me.” She said, continuing to look at him as if he were dirt on her shoes. “What did you do? That woman is a saint and I won’t have you upsetting her.”
Warwick studied the young maid. The girl was barely sixteen yet she was standing up to him like a lioness protecting her cub. He smiled to himself. It pleased him to realize that Amanda inspired such loyalty.
“I assure you, Molly, All I did was ask for some clothes. I think it is time I started trying to get up and about.”
“Clothes?” she asked with a frown. “You should have asked me. Miss Amanda wouldn’t know the first thing about getting clothes for a man. She only shops in those fancy lady stores. And yes, it is time you were up and about,” she added as she placed the food tray on his lap. “If I had my way, you would have been up and about and away from here days ago.”
He laughed as he began to spread butter on his bread. “It is nice to know that we are of the same mind,” he told her.
She frowned for a moment. “I don’t know what that means, but if it gets you out of here sooner, then I agree.”
As she muttered to herself, she reached over him to tuck the blanket under his legs and then, pulled a pillow from the other side of the bed to prop it behind his back.
“Miss Amanda’s life hasn’t been the same since you came in here, bleeding all over my nice clean floor,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Yes, I am aware,” he answered trying hard not to laugh. The girl wanted him away, yet she went out of her way to make sure he was comfortable. He knew that like Amanda, he owed his life to her.
“Have you worked for Miss Amanda long?” he asked as he took a bite of food.
“Over a year,” she answered as she went to the foot of the bed and made sure the blankets were lined up perfectly. “I was headed for the streets, I was. And you know what that means for a young girl in this town. There is no telling where I would be if it weren’t for Miss Amanda.”.
“Really, how did that come about,” he asked, suddenly consumed with wanting to know a lot more about his angel.
Molly paused in her fidgeting as she looked out the window into the far distance. Her face took on a sad frown.
“My father worked for her father’s bank before her father died a few years ago, a clerk. He died of the influenza early last winter.” The young woman paused for a moment and Warwick knew she was reliving that hell.
Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I didn’t have no other family. And we never had no money. The landlord. He wouldn’t let me stay.” She stopped for a moment and shot Warwick a quick look “Not unless I let him have his way.” Her shudder let him know exactly what she was saying.
He nodded for her to go on.
“Miss Amanda was the only one to worry about me. Somehow, she received word of my father’s death. And came to me. All the way to our house. In a carriage. Took me right away and brought me here.”
The maid returned to straightening the bed but Warwick saw that hint of fear behind her eyes. And that fierce loyalty as well. This girl would do anything for her employer. Up to and including backing down a British Nobleman if necessary.
“I understand your loyalty, Molly. I promise I do. And I can assure you. I will do nothing to ever cause Miss Amanda distress.”
The young maid studied him for a moment then started to say something, then stopped herself and shook her head. “Just so we understand each other My … I mean John.”
“Yes, I think we do.”
“Good,” she said as she started for the door. “And I will get you the clothes you need. They’ll be rough. Not like those Lordly clothes your kind normally wear. But more like what you arrived in.”
He smiled at her. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
The maid returned his nod then said, “You know, there is more than one way to hurt a woman. And the worse is hurting her heart.”
He frowned as he tried to understand her meaning, but the girl was gone before he could delve into the matter.
Sitting back, he smiled to himself. It made him feel good knowing that Amanda had such a loyal friend.
What a remarkable woman, he thought. So different than the women he knew. His mind searched for the perfect description. That one word that would capture the true essence of Miss Amanda Waters.
Beautiful? Of course, but not enough. Intelligent? Again, rather obvious. No, Miss Waters, but even more, she was competent, he thought. That was it. The woman was competent in everything she did.
Satisfied that he had order once again in his world, he allowed himself to fall asleep. Sleep and dream.
Chapter Six
Molly had been good to her word and provided him with clothes. Woolen pants and a plain white linen shirt. She’d plopped them on the bottom of his bed then left without a word. Almost daring him to try and dress himself.
Sighing heavily, He pushed the blankets back and used his good arm to retrieve the clothes. Even that little effort left him breathless and cringing with pain. This was going to be difficult he realized as he shot the door a quick look.
No, he must do this himself. A man who couldn’t dress himself was worse than useless.
Gritting his teeth, he worked his way to the edge of the bed and let his legs slide over the side. The room had grown very warm and a bead of sweat had broken out on his forehead to run down the side of his nose.
Growling to himself at his own weakness, He used his good arm to position the injured one inside a sleeve. Then slowly worked the shirt up onto his shoulders.
When he was done, he rested, his chin on his chest while he tried to recover what little strength he had left. At last, he took a deep breath and bent forward to try and slip his pants onto his injured leg.
He missed completely and he cursed under his breath. This was ridiculous. Why did British fashion have to be so difficult? A robe or toga would have been so much easier. Sighing, he tried again, managing to get one foot into a pant leg. Then the other. Wiggling back and forth, he worked to get them up over his hips, then sank back onto the bed exhausted.
He lay there staring up at the ceiling. This would not be allowed to continue, he thought. Under no circumstances would he allow himself to become crippled or a burden. No.
Once he had regained some control of his racing heart, he forced himself back up, gently placing both feet on the floor. Using the bedpost, he slowly worked himself up to standing next to the bed. A joyous feeling of accomplishment washed through him when he didn’t immediately fall flat on his face.
His knees wobbled, and the room spun, but he was up. For the first time in almost two weeks, he felt like a whole human again.
“What are you doing?” Amanda demanded from the doorway. He had been so focused
on standing up he hadn’t even noticed her come in.
“Learning to waltz,” he said as he tried to take a step forward. “It is a new dance. The King’s German Legion introduced it a few years ago.”
She rolled her eyes at him and hurried across the room to stand next to him. Both hands out ready to catch him if he fell.
“I know what a waltz is. And you will not be dancing any time soon,” she said.
“Actually, I have three days to prepare,” he said as he dragged his injured leg forward.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He took another step when his hip gave way and he collapsed into her arms. Grunting, she caught him and half carried him back to the bed.
“I do apologize,” he said as he felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. He couldn’t even take a step without this woman being there to save him.
“You are pushing things too quickly. You need to give your body time to recover. What the wounds did not take from you, the infection did.”
He grimaced as he closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, his body refused to do what it was supposed to. He had always known that his physical abilities. His strength, his speed, had been the one thing he could rely on. Now, here in this bed, he was a hopeless mess.
“Why three days?” Amanda asked as she helped him swing his legs back onto the bed.
“Lord Hicks‘s ball.”
Amanda stepped back and frowned at him. Her confusion very obvious.
He sighed, it couldn’t be avoided. He had already told her too much. A little more wouldn’t hurt. “He is one of the men I suspect,” he said. “I had hoped to get a chance to examine his office. The ball was the perfect opportunity. My source believed there was incriminating evidence from the man’s office.”
Amanda scoffed and shook her head. “Well, that won’t be happening. You’ll have to try another time. It is not like he is going anywhere.”
Lord Warwick set his chin as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Every day I delay might mean more men dying on the battlefield. So actually, time is of the essence.”
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