by Alyson Chase
Rousing himself, Julius grabbed two spindly chairs and grouped them together. He dropped into his seat and indicated the other chair. Dawnley lowered down, rubbing his knee.
Julius didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “I’ve come on the recommendation of Lord Audley. You know him?”
Dawnley rubbed his hand across the top of his head, causing his sparse strands of grey hair to stick up straight. “Yes, my lord. But I’d heard the sad news that he’d passed.”
Julius arched an eyebrow.
“Even in here we do receive news.” Dawnley shrugged. “Especially when that news concerns the son of a duke.”
“Of course.” Had the news spread that Julius had been with the young lord moments before his death? Had the blackmailers heard of it? If the man who’d pushed Audley was a part of the crime ring, then they already knew of Julius’s involvement. His advantage was gone. “He told me that you used to work in the Court of Chancery.”
Dawnley nodded. “I was the head clerk.”
“And you came in contact with certain individuals who blackmailed you for blunt?”
Licking his lips, the man’s eyes darted to every corner of the room.
Julius sought to reassure him. “I, also, have been contacted by the same people.”
“Then you know we aren’t to discuss it.” A bit of haughtiness entered Dawnley’s voice, and for the first time Julius could see the civil servant he used to be.
Julius smiled. “I’ve never been much good at doing what I’m told. And besides”—he spread his hands wide, indicating their surroundings—“what else can they do to you?”
“I have family.” Dawnley leaned forward. “These people would have no compunction about hurting any of them to make a point.”
“Yes, an unmarried son and a widowed daughter.” Julius was nothing if not efficient at obtaining information. “Wouldn’t they be better served if their father was out of Clink Prison and earning a decent wage?”
“You mock me.”
Julius put out a hand to stop him from rising. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I have the means to pay off your debt. To assist you in finding employment. But I’ll need your help to remove the threat hanging above us like Damocles sword.”
Dawnley eased back. “There’s nothing to be done. It isn’t just one or two individuals you’d be fighting.” Resting an elbow on the arm of his chair, he dropped his high forehead into his palm. “There are many people involved. Too many to stop.”
“How do you know?” Julius asked. Audley had only seen the one man. Would the clerk have better descriptions?
Dawnley sighed, his shoulders slumping. “There came a time when I could no longer pay. That’s when they approached me for information. They wanted details on the cases passing through the court. And the demand came from an unexpected source.”
“Yes?” Julius prodded.
The old man hesitated and dropped his gaze. “There was a woman, one I’d become …”
“Intimate with?” Julius finished. He didn’t understand the man’s delicacy. He was a widower. But the lower classes were strange when it came to sexual morality.
“Yes. A widow.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Dawnley grimaced. “I’d told her some of my problems. I thought she cared for me.” He shook his head. “I was a fool. She was one of them. Had been keeping watch on me for the people she worked for. And she told me they were many.”
“And the name of this woman?” The lead ball in his gut told Julius he suspected the culprit, but he wanted confirmation.
“Mrs. Westmont. A very sweet woman.” He blushed. “Well, until she wasn’t.”
Julius rubbed his eyebrow. “So, after you discovered an intimate was among the blackmailers, you gave in to their demands?”
“I refused once.” Tugging at his threadbare waistcoat, Dawnley sat up straight. “I told them no more secrets. Mrs. Westmont paid me a visit after that. She took me somewhere, to some sort of private club. I was introduced to a man who handed me a report on every step of my children’s days. From when my son left his home, to when he arrived at work, to what he ate that day for lunch. I was told how many pounds of mutton my daughter had purchased. He knew everything. And he pointed out how easy it would be to make one of them disappear. Or one of my daughter’s babies.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “That is when I gave up any ideas of fighting.”
Julius edged forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “This man, what did he look like?”
“Tall and much too skinny. Looked a bit like a scarecrow to tell the truth. With a thin mustache. And before I left that night, I saw him speak to another woman, one with bright red hair. She was wearing a most indecent dress, but then”—he spread his hands—“the club was most indecent itself.”
Julius’s stomach slowly sank to the floor. “Where was this club?”
“Nowhere you’d want to go. Off Edward Street, I believe.”
Of course. It would be the one club Julius had made a second home. He stared at the square of sunlight, breathing heavily through his nose. Dawnley was right. The Black Rose was most indecent. Wonderfully indecent, along with the red-headed Madame Sable who ran the establishment. And now she was implicated in a blackmailing ring.
“And Mrs. Westmont? While you were having this conversation where the man threatened your family, where was she during all of this?”
“I think …” Dawnley ran a hand through his hair and looked to the corner of the room. “I believe she was in another room. With another man.”
Julius stared at the cell’s window. It made sense that the madam of a clandestine club would be involved in blackmail. Everything that happened within her walls was of a most private nature. The members trusted that their darkest desires would remain secret. And they paid through the nose to ensure it. The betrayal lanced Julius, and he gritted his teeth.
Julius’s need to tie women up wouldn’t be enough to ruin his reputation. As desires went, that was tame for The Black Rose. Other members of the ton might snigger behind his back, but no lasting damage would be done. Even if he were shunned, he hardly cared. Julius could live quite happily without the company of society.
But that couldn’t be said for all the members. Reputations could be destroyed; lives devastated. Some of his friends might not escape unscathed. He needed to tell them what he’d learned so they could try to control the damage.
But first, he would have a word with the lovely Madame Sable.
Julius thanked Dawnley and fled the prison. He didn’t know what the clerk had done to fall prey to blackmail and Julius didn’t want to know. He seemed a decent enough man. One who had tried to do the right thing. The tentacles of the shadowy organization were slithering into too many lives. Good lives.
Liverpool was right. They needed to be stopped. By any means necessary.
***
Amanda rubbed Reggie’s tummy, the repetitive motion soothing her as much as the dog. He flopped his head in her lap and sighed.
“Still not feeling back to your usual self?” She gently tugged at the sheet of paper stuck between her thigh and Reggie’s paw. She carefully folded the missive and tucked the square up her sleeve. “I don’t feel so well, either.”
“Are you ill, dear?” Lady Mary toddled into the room, Carter trailing in her wake, a large basket in his hands. “Did you catch what Reginald has?”
Amanda wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know if that’s possible.” Carter brushed past her and set the basket down by an armchair. Amanda tucked her legs back, digging her fingers into Reggie’s thick coat. The butler didn’t look at her, didn’t say anything untoward, hardly acknowledged her presence at all.
“Do you need anything else, m’lady?” he asked.
“Not at present,” her chaperone said.
Without a glance to Amanda, Carter bowed to Lady Mary, and exited the morning room.
The older woman settled into her chair and pulled a square of needlepoint from the basket. “What
ails you? The doctor said your dog will be all right.”
“Reggie is my sister’s dog.” As Amanda had reminded the woman many times before. “And he is feeling much better. Only a little tired.”
Lady Mary stabbed a needle through her cloth. “Well, if your pup is doing better, then why are you blue?”
“Nothing of great importance.” Fingering the paper tucked in her sleeve, Amanda forced a smile. “I received an answer to a letter I wrote. It wasn’t to my liking.”
“I often receive letters not to my liking.” Lady Mary winced and sucked at the tip of her thumb. “The trick is to ignore what you don’t wish to hear until you get the answer you want.”
Amanda’s hand stilled on Reggie’s stomach until he whined in protest. She continued stroking him. “How does ignoring a marquess’s dismissal become an acceptance later?”
“Time is as transitive as the human heart.” Tugging on a purple thread, the woman grimaced until the string pulled through her square of fabric. “And acceptance and dismissals will both exist only until you decide to choose one.”
Amanda bit the inside of her cheek. She ran the words through her head again, but understanding remained elusive. She sighed. For a moment, she’d forgotten that Lady Mary was the one person in the house more cracked than Amanda. She was very sweet, but not someone to look to for advice.
“Who were you writing to, dear?” Licking her thumb and forefinger, Lady Mary rolled her fingers over the end of a green thread. She squinted one eye behind her spectacles and prodded the thread at the eye of her needle. “Maybe I know him and can put in a good word for you.”
“This letter is from the Marquess of Hanford.”
The bell for dinner sounded, and Reggie’s head perked up. He slid down from the settee, a little slower than usual. But if he was in the mood for table scraps, he must be better.
Amanda stood and waited for Lady Mary to rise. “I wrote five letters to the most prominent critics of reforming the law on capital punishment. Only the Marquess was considerate enough to send me a reply.”
The women trailed after Reggie to the east dining room. A footman held a chair out for Lady Mary, turned his back on Amanda, and went to his position by the door. Amanda pulled out her own chair.
“Did you explain how unfair the conditions were in prison?” The older woman glanced at the needle still in her hand and blinked. She tucked it into her fichu, the tail of green thread stark against the white linen. “I’m sure if they knew that innocent people were being sent to the noose, and children, they’d change the law very quickly.”
Amanda almost envied the woman. She was sweet and simple and assumed everything else in the world would follow the same course. How pleasant it must be to live in that fantasy.
“The Marquess seems to feel that if England lets one guilty man go unpunished, the whole of society will crumble.” Amanda watched the footman pour Lady Mary some wine and raised her own glass hopefully. He filled her cup, and Amanda’s shoulders relaxed. The servants’ rudeness hadn’t extended to outright refusal of service, at least not yet. Not where it would be noticed by the duke’s aunt or friend. She took a sip, and let the rich plummy flavor soothe some of her irritation over the letter. “Better that a few unfortunates suffer than all of society, he thinks.”
The two women sat back, and a second footman placed plates before them, steam still rising from the food.
Lady Mary dug into the beef medallion. “What nonsense. I don’t know the Marquess, otherwise I’d give him a right talking to.”
Smiling, Amanda fed Reggie a bit of beef. “I would enjoy seeing that.” Taking the roll from her plate, she tucked it into the pocket sewn into the skirt of her gown.
“What would you enjoy seeing?” Julius strode into the room and dragged his chair out before the footman could do so. He sank heavily into his seat and draped the white linen napkin across his lap. The fine lines that radiated from his eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into his skin. “I will take you anywhere you wish.”
Warmth coursed through Amanda’s body at the sight of him. An errant strand of hair crossed in front of his eyes, and her fingers itched to brush it back across his brow. It was rare that he would join her and Lady Mary for dinner, but perhaps he was coming to crave her company as much as she was his. Though lord knows they’d seen quite a lot of each other since their affair began. Day or night, Julius would find any excuse to strip her bare and tie her up. To Amanda’s mind, they had done everything together that a man and a woman could. Except for one thing.
She stared down at her plate. They’d never woken up together. Amanda always left his bed alone. Julius would find her soon thereafter to bring her a cup of chocolate and help her dress, but somehow it just wasn’t the same.
Lady Mary bounced in her seat and leaned forward, her sleeve knocking a roll to the floor. Reggie ambled away from Amanda, towards greener pastures. “She wants to speak with the Marquess of Hanford. Perhaps you could take her to Parliament so she could have a word with him?”
Julius’s eyebrows shot up over the rim of his wine glass. He leaned forwards. “Is that so? And what has the Marquess done to deserve such attention?”
Amanda adjusted the second fork next to her plate, making it even with its brethren. “Lady Mary is mistaken. I have no need to speak with the man. His response to my letter was quite sufficient to lay out his point of view on the issue.”
“And, pray tell, what issue was that?” Julius laced his fingers together, his two index fingers extended into a vee, and examined her. It was the type of examination that made Amanda squirm. Julius had done unspeakable things to her just last night, seen her in positions that should make her cheeks flame red with embarrassment, but it was his scrutiny now that made her uncomfortable.
She looked at the row of knives to the right of her plate, but those were all perfectly in line. Picking up a fork, she pushed her peas around. “I wrote to ask him to reconsider his position on that reform bill. He declined. Very politely.” The peas formed eight neat rows, with one green ball to spare. She popped the misfit in her mouth, and considered. The Marquess’s letter was more condescending than polite. But to a man of that stature, even responding to a disgraced woman was an act of great civility. She should be thankful.
“I see.” His eyes glittered darkly. She couldn’t read them. He dropped his gaze to her plate with its organized rows of vegetables. “Your beef is growing cold. Eat up.”
“Can’t you take her to Parliament?” Lady Mary persisted. “He’d have to listen if she explained things to him, face to face.”
“I couldn’t guarantee her reception, but as I said, I would take her anywhere she desired.” Julius sliced into his meat, and Amanda felt a corresponding cut to her heart. He knew as well as she that a trip to Parliament was nowhere in her future. Her jaunts into the garden were one thing. But that was a whole other kettle of fish from venturing into London. Just the thought of the immense buildings, the crowds of people, made her heart pound.
A trickle of sweat started at the nape of her neck and rolled under her collar. She pushed to her feet. Julius hastily stood, as well. “I’m not hungry this evening. I’ll bid you all goodnight.” The footman opened the door for her. “Come, Reggie.” She fled up the stairs, Reggie’s toenails slowly clicking behind her. He didn’t want to leave the table, but it was for his own good that she stopped him from eating too much. He didn’t need another stomach ache.
Shutting her door, she lifted her hand towards the key that rested in the keyhole. No. She stepped back. She wouldn’t let one disappointing letter and the thought of being lost inside Parliament make her slip into old habits. She’d already spent too much time in closets and behind locked doors. Being in her own room, the door closed, was enough.
But it wasn’t enough to keep out visitors.
Julius stepped into the room without knocking. He carried her dinner plate and a glass of wine. “You ate but two bites. You cannot be full already.” Placing
the plate on the bed, he shooed Reggie away from the food. He patted the coverlet next to the plate. “Sit.”
Reggie’s haunches hit the floor, and Julius frowned at him.
“Thank you for your concern, but I truly do not want it.” The rich sauces from the duke’s cook didn’t usually sit well with her.
“I hardly ever see you eat.” Placing his hands on his lean hips, Julius narrowed his eyes. “You need food.”
“Do I look as though I’m starving?” Stalking to the window, she released the sash. The velvet curtain brushed past her fingertips as it fell closed. “Credit me with some sense. I do understand the importance of food for survival.”
“But …”
She pulled the roll from her pocket and raised it to eye level. “I may not eat in front of you, but I eat.” Walking to the escritoire, she lowered the desk lid and added the roll to a bit of cheese wrapped in cloth. She shut the escritoire firmly and turned to face him, arms across her chest.
His face softened. “You stash food away. I should have guessed.”
“It isn’t anything to concern yourself over. I just like to make sure …” She swallowed.
“That you don’t have to rely on your gaoler to feed you.” Julius stepped close and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know. I did it, too. When I was held by daimyo Muragachi.”
That was the first time he’d mentioned his imprisonment to her. She’d heard the rumors, of course. Even before her world had collapsed, before she’d killed her father in self-defense, she’d heard the stories of the Earl of Rothchild’s youngest son. The man who’d been captured while serving his country in the Royal Navy. Of the attempts to secure his release. Of his escape after three long years of imprisonment only for him to come home to find his father and brothers dead of typhus.
An accidental earl, and one that society whispered wasn’t right in his head since his capture.