BOUND BY THE EARL

by Alyson Chase

  Julius cleared his throat. “I’ll deliver this and be right back.”

  Laying a hand on his arm, she stopped him. “I truly am sorry.”

  He nodded and pushed open the carriage door, leaping down, and shutting her in tight.

  Reggie snored across from her, giving a little whimper every once in a while. Amanda sighed. She seemed to have the uncanny knack for making those around her unhappy. First Liz, for wasting a year of her life trying to free her sister. Now Julius. Even Reggie suffered from bad dreams.

  The air became stifling. Flicking the corner of the curtain back, Amanda lowered the window an inch. A cool breeze wafted through the opening. Men with tall hats strode past. A lady with a lavender parasol and a high-pitched giggle. London teemed with life. And Amanda watched, half-hidden behind the curtain.

  Skin itching, she dropped the velvet and smoothed it back into place. She waited for the darkness to soothe her. And waited. It was just her and Reggie, alone in an enclosed box. Her environment was just as she liked it.

  So why wasn’t she feeling soothed, damn it? Reaching across the carriage, she picked Reggie up and plopped him on her lap. He opened one eye, huffed, and settled back into slumber. His warm body was a comforting weight on her legs, yet the edginess that prickled her skin wouldn’t leave her be.

  The door was thrown open, and Julius climbed back in. He sat next to her, leaving several inches of bench between them. “It’s been delivered. The editor said it would run in the next couple of days.”

  “He’s going to print it?” She clasped her hands together. “Truly?”

  “So he said.” Pounding the ceiling of the carriage, Julius settled back and stretched his arm along the back of the seat. “Why should that surprise you?”

  “I’ve never been published before.” Amanda leaned into his arm. Julius wouldn’t understand. For men like him it was taken for granted. If he spoke, people listened. He couldn’t understand how voiceless the average woman was.

  Thank God she’d written under a pseudonym.

  The carriage jolted before turning sharply. It rolled to a stop, and Amanda peeked under the corner of the curtain. “Where are we?”

  “I asked the driver to take us across from Hanford’s home. I’m hoping he’ll take his coach out today.” Julius slid closer to her and draped the curtain over its hold back hook. He looked outside. “I want you to confirm your identification looking at the actual coach and not the picture from a thirty-year-old book.”

  The back of her eyes burned. He wasn’t dismissing her claims. It wasn’t absolute trust in her judgment, but it was enough.

  She cleared her throat. “So, we just wait and hope?” Amanda leaned forward. Across the street, a short drive led to a four-story brick townhouse. Nothing moved beyond the windows of the house. No footman stood to attention by the front doors. “We could be here forever.”

  Sliding a pocket watch from his waistcoat, Julius popped open the cover. “It’s coming on six o’clock. The time many gentlemen head to the club for a cigar and a drink, maybe read a paper or two before dinner. Be patient.”

  She sniffed and stared at the drive.

  Her neck began to ache from the angle she held it at, and she shifted on the seat. A crush of hackneys clogged the street, the drivers hollering at each other and blocking her view.

  She craned her head, unable to see around the blockage. It finally cleared. She sighed. The marquess’s front door remained shut. No activity.

  Her mind wandered. She wondered where Liz was at that moment. In a museum? Sailing down one of Venice’s famed canals? Her eyes lost their focus, the world outside her carriage blurred. As a child, she’d dreamed of travel. India had always held a certain appeal. Did ships have armoires she could barricade herself within? With the great expanse of open sea engulfing the ship, she would need one.

  Julius took her hand, stilling the nervous tapping of her fingers against her thigh. “Do you need to return home? Has this been too much for you?”

  The worry in his voice carved itself onto her heart. She cleared her throat. “I’m fine. Merely at a loss of what to do while we wait. Is espionage always this boring?”

  He chuckled. “Only if you’re fortunate. The alternative is not so pleasant.” His thumb stroked hers, sending a tickle to the base of her spine. “Besides, sitting in a carriage with a beautiful woman is not without its enticements.”

  “Please.” Brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, she shook her head. “Beautiful is an overstatement. Especially with my hair in a constant state of disarray. But as you are responsible for the condition of my hair, perhaps you don’t notice the disorder.”

  He trailed his fingers across her nape. “Personally, I like that it looks as though you recently rolled from my bed. But if you want, I’ll ask Carter to hire you a new lady’s maid.”

  Amanda angled her head, exposing inches of neck. “As no one sees my hair but you, Lady Mary, and the servants, I don’t mind.” And she didn’t trust Carter to hire her a trustworthy maid. “Do you really keep no”—she shuddered as his lips caressed her collarbone—“no servants at your home?”

  “I could only hope.” He cupped her breast through her clothes. “At my London townhouse, I keep the bare necessity. A cook. A footman who also is my driver. And two maids come in twice a week to clean. Any more servants than that and they’d be in the way as much as this spencer is.” He tried to unbutton it one-handed. “Oh, to hell with this.” He hauled her to the edge of the seat, sending Reggie tumbling to the floor with a panicked yip.

  Julius cursed. “I forgot about the blasted dog.” He picked Reggie up and stroked along his fur, checking for injury. Satisfied, he placed the pup on the seat across from them. “He’s fine.”

  Reggie glared at him, obviously disagreeing. Turning his back, the dog coiled into a ball and heaved a disgruntled sigh.

  Amanda bit her lip, smothering her laughter. She couldn’t smother her yelp of surprise when Julius dragged her onto his lap.

  “Julius, I’m not going to allow you liberties on a public street. It would be—”

  A carriage rolled past her window, and she bolted upright. Sliding off Julius’s lap, she pressed to the opening, drawing the curtains farther back. “He’s not leaving. He’s arriving. There it is. The coat of arms on that coach. There’s your man.” She pointed to the carriage that turned down the drive and stopped before the front doors of Hanford’s townhouse. A footman hopped from his perch at the back and disappeared around the side.

  Julius nudged her to the side so both of them could see out the window. “Are you certain? It was dark last night, and many family arms can look similar. I can’t proceed on intuition.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I saw it well enough last night. That is the coat of arms.”

  An older man with white hair and a cane held loosely in one hand sprang up the steps to the front of the townhouse. He threw his head back and laughed at something his butler said. He patted the man on the arm and strode inside.

  “Not the most devilish looking of suspects,” Julius muttered.

  Amanda frowned. “Looks aren’t everything.” But she had to admit that the Marquess of Hanford looked more like a doting grandfather than someone involved in a blackmailing ring. Still, that sweet old grandfather had no problem sending ten-year-olds to the noose. She pressed her lips together.

  Rubbing his jaw, Julius squinted out the window. “I know he has a son, but I don’t think he comes down to London much. I’ve never met him. I wonder how tall he is.”

  Amanda settled back into the seat. She thought of the Hanford butler towering over the marquess by several inches. “He might get his height from his mother’s side.”

  “Or it might not be him.” He pounded on the ceiling, and the carriage pulled into the road. “I’m still not convinced you identified the right coat of arms.”

  “But you’ll investigate just the same? You won’t let him get away just because he’s a marquess?�
� She didn’t know why this was so important to her. It wasn’t her task to stop the crime ring. And she’d long since reconciled herself to the fact that the world wasn’t fair. Most people were never held to account for their actions. She could only hope justice was served in the afterlife.

  Still, she held her breath and waited for his answer. She might not have faith in the world, but she wanted to believe in Julius.

  “I’ll investigate.” Sunlight streaked across his jaw, leaving his eyes in shadow. “But you might not like the outcome. Don’t—” He scrubbed his hand across his jaw.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t raise your hopes.” He laid a hand on her knee and squeezed. “Even if Lord Hanford were no longer a member of Parliament, nothing would change. There are a hundred men who believe just as he does.” He shook his head. “The vote won’t change if he’s arrested.”

  No, there were thousands of men who supported England’s harsh capital punishment laws. But there were also men like Julius, men who wanted reform. And if enough people fought, maybe the minds of people like Lord Hanford could be changed.

  She settled back into her seat and gave Julius a reassuring smile. She understood the chances. But with that letter to The Times she’d taken a positive step to affect change. She was fighting back.

  London rolled past the uncovered window, the slanting sunlight making the stone buildings glow pink. Tradesmen hurried home after their days’ labors. Some couples were out for their evening stroll. The city burst with life.

  And Amanda didn’t once think about closing the curtains.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Crossing his legs, Julius bobbed the toe of his boot up and down. Liverpool had said to meet him at nine in the evening, but apparently only Julius was expected to be punctual. The dark wood paneling of White’s back room made the chamber feel smaller. Oppressive.

  Loosening the knot of his cravat, Julius breathed deeply through his nose. Amanda had borne her time out on the streets of London a week ago with admirable fortitude. If she could face her fears so well, he could damn well sit in a small room without breaking into a sweat. Even if the room was windowless. With only one door.

  He was fine.

  He gripped the armrests of his wingback chair. It had been three years since his return from the East. Would he ever feel natural again?

  Liverpool stalked through the door, shutting it with greater energy than necessary. Taking the seat across from Julius, the older statesman crooked his elbow on the armrest and rested his jaw on his knuckles.

  The look he sent Julius did nothing to calm his restless nerves.

  “I missed my tea because of you.” Liverpool plucked a cigar from the silver box on the side table. Not bothering with a knife, he bit off the end and spit it out and dragged a candlestick towards him to light it.

  Julius waited until the man was pulling at the flame. “You set the time for our meeting. Though I must say your tea time is extraordinarily late.”

  Liverpool set the candlestick down on the side table next to his chair. “Cute. But that’s not what I meant and you know it.” Leaning back in the chair, Liverpool puffed on the cigar and glared at him through the smoke. “I’ve had a steady stream of peers in my office, gossiping like little old ladies about the debate raging in The Times over capital punishment.”

  “I’ve had a few of those discussions myself.” After Amanda’s piece had received the most replies in the paper’s history, the editor had requested that Mr. A. Wilson pen another piece. He’d also invited a response from the opposing side. “I hardly understand how I’m responsible for the tumult.”

  “Don’t play the innocent with me,” Liverpool said. “I know you delivered the piece by Mr. Wilson.”

  Of course, he did. Liverpool had informants everywhere. “I’m not the author.”

  “I never said you were. You don’t strike me as a reformer.” He coughed and rested the cigar in the ashtray. “But your ward is causing quite the fuss. Perhaps you should put an end to that.”

  Julius didn’t know which claim was more absurd. That Amanda was his ward, or that he had the power to stop her from doing as she wanted. “Miss Wilcox is nobody’s ward. She is an unmarried woman who has attained the age of majority. She will do as she wishes.” Standing, he strode to the sideboard and poured two fingers of Scotch. “And don’t mistake my lack of agitation as a lack of interest in reform. You do know how I voted on the last bill.”

  “And I respect that vote. But Parliament is the proper place to have the debate. Not in the public papers. And not in my office!” His stern expression softened the slightest bit when Julius put a second tumbler of liquor in his hand. “I hear the chit is a virtual recluse. Don’t pretend you couldn’t stop her nonsense if you wanted.”

  Gritting his teeth, Julius turned his back on Liverpool and tramped back to his chair. Slowly, he sank down. Liverpool didn’t know the situation with Amanda. That any nonsense on her part was to be encouraged or risk her withdrawing from life even more than she had. But Liverpool’s duty was to protect the empire, at all costs. Individual hardships were of little importance.

  “I had an especially galling conversation with Lord Hanford.” Liverpool tossed back his Scotch. “The man seemed to take Mr. Wilson’s piece as a personal insult. He read me the response he’d written for the paper, word for stumbling word.” Running a hand through his greying hair, he huffed out a breath. “Hanford’s always been an idiot. Well meaning, but as simple as broth. When I mentioned the true identity of Mr. Wilson, I had to spoon feed him the idea to use that in his response to discredit her.”

  “You told Hanford that Amanda was the author of the opinion piece?” Heat flushed through Julius’s body. If she saw her name in print, read the ridicule and contempt that was sure to come her way, it would strike a blow. A hide-in-the-armoire type of blow that Julius couldn’t allow. “She used a pseudonym for a reason.”

  “And I revealed it for a reason.” Minutely shaking his head, Liverpool sighed. “As she can no longer write anonymously, I hope she will stop writing entirely. I will be most unhappy if Lord Hanford finds a reason to come to my office again.”

  Julius crossed one leg over the other and kept his face calm. He’d have to warn Amanda. Perhaps hide the papers until the scandal blew over. “Well, then, this should make you especially unhappy. Lord Hanford has become the focus of my investigation into the blackmail ring.”

  Liverpool blinked. “Explain that.”

  “I have a witness who has identified his carriage as one used by Madame Sable’s accomplice.” He spared a brief thought as to where The Black Rose’s proprietress was now. Liverpool most likely had her secured in a nice set of rooms until the investigation was over. She’d need to be close by for easy access if more questions arose. Although, aside from giving up Mrs. Westmont, Madame Sable claimed to not know the names of any other accomplices. Her information was turning out to be less than useful.

  “You can’t think—”

  “I know her accomplice isn’t Hanford himself.” Resting his glass on his thigh, Julius cocked his head. “His son?”

  “That boy is as bumbling as his father. And about as tall. He doesn’t match your description.”

  “A nephew, perhaps? My witness was most certain.” Certain, and biased. He didn’t think Amanda would intentionally lie about the coat of arms, but if she were already predisposed not to like Lord Hanford, who knew what her heart would see. After months of solitary confinement, Julius knew the mind could be as deceitful as a Haymarket guttersnipe.

  Liverpool slouched. “As stupid as Lord Hanford is, he’d make the perfect pawn. He could be holding meetings for the inner circle of the crime ring in his library without even knowing it.” He pointed a finger at Julius and glared at him beneath his bushy brows. “And that’s all the more reason to keep your girl out of the papers. If Hanford is a pawn, the crime ring will become nervous if he’s made the center of attention. No, in order to keep your inv
estigation running smoothly, this debate over the reform bill needs to be shelved. Understand?”

  Julius’s stomach dropped. “And how do you suggest I stop it?”

  “Confiscate her mail. Tell the chit the paper doesn’t want to publish her anymore. Not with her identity revealed.” Liverpool narrowed his eyes. “Lie. That is what I’ve hired you for.”

  “Last time I checked, I volunteered.” Julius gripped his tumbler. “You don’t pay me or my friends anything. We do it out of duty. And we can stop anytime we like.”

  “The government might not pay you in pounds, but don’t deny the certain favors you lot have received.” Liverpool sat forward. “Most recently, a girl was pardoned after stabbing her father to death.”

  “After the Crown had denied her rights to a fair trial, she deserved that pardon!” Julius exploded from his chair. “Do not threaten her.”

  Leaning back, Liverpool laced his fingers together and rested his palms against his round stomach. “Interesting.” His gaze was inscrutable. “A pardon can’t be taken back. She’s safe.” He paused for a moment. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine.” Julius paced the small room, needing this meeting to be over. The walls loomed closer than ever. He jerked on his cravat.

  “Are you certain?” Liverpool cocked his head, his eyes not missing anything. “I can have Sutton take point on this investigation. If you need to escape London for a bit, we’ll manage. You can take the girl with you.”

  As if distance from London would bank Amanda’s fire for justice. Liverpool might have his finger in every pie, know what every citizen was up to, but he didn’t understand the female mind.

  Julius gripped the back of the chair and looked the man in the eye. “As I said, I’m fine. And Sutton is busy trying to keep The Black Rose operational. He’s placed a supposed friend of Madame Sable’s in there as manager to try to divert suspicion.”

  Liverpool snorted. “That’s not likely. I’m certain whoever is in charge of the blackmailing ring already knows she’s been picked up. The group is too canny to believe her letter expressing a sudden desire for travel.” Picking up his cigar, he tapped off the ash and stuck it between his lips, sucking hard. “I wonder if they’ll try to influence the new manager.”