by Alyson Chase
Amanda rubbed her chest. The flutter of pain had turned into a flock of birds all beating their wings in unison. “What are you saying?” He couldn’t possibly think she’d tried to deceive him into marriage. He knew her better than that.
“I don’t know, Amanda.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You see your sister making a conquest of a duke. You think you can secure a title, as well?”
“No,” she whispered. The room spun around her, and she blinked, trying to find her center. She licked her lips. “I have no hopes of ever marrying, much less marrying a gentleman.” Picking up her dress, she looked for the right end of it. She gave up and held it to her chest. “Even were I to become with child, I have no expectations of you. I’m sure Marcus would settle me comfortably abroad, so you needn’t have worried.”
Julius narrowed his eyes dangerously. “No expectations? You don’t think I would take responsibility?”
Amanda turned her back. He didn’t believe her. Didn’t know her at all. “I think we’ve said all that needs to be said.” She picked up her slippers and cradled the whole mess to her stomach. She hoped no one was about, because she wasn’t going to waste time in dressing.
He let her leave without another word. She ran for her room, tears streaming down her face. She locked her door and leaned back against it. Her pile of clothes tumbled to the floor.
She was a fool. Thinking that Julius could ever develop feelings for someone like her. She was a fallen woman, a disgrace. And it was time she remembered her place.
Throwing herself in her bed, she pulled the covers over her head and cried. She couldn’t remember ever wanting anything so badly as she wanted Julius's affection. Not even her freedom when she’d been imprisoned.
Hope was a demanding mistress. Amanda could at least thank Julius for ridding her of that burden.
Chapter Seventeen
Julius kicked his friend’s leg. “Wake up. I didn’t ask you here so you could get your beauty sleep.”
Sutton jerked awake and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. He stretched, and the carriage they were sitting in rocked from side to side. “What? I was just resting my eyes.”
“Uh huh.” Julius stared out the mesh curtain into the grey morning light. He and Max had been parked across the street from the headquarters of Feathered Friends since four that morning. After finding Allan’s body, they had searched the offices of the building they’d chased him from.
They hadn’t found one mention of birds in the office of the ornithological society. They had, however, found a cabinet full of racing slips.
England’s revenue department listed both the Feathered Friends society and the Caritas benevolent aid society as subsidiaries of an Ariadne Corporation. The government showed its business office address as a townhouse in Chelsea. Julius wanted to see who entered the building.
Max cleared his throat. “As I remember, you didn’t ask me to come. You pounded on my door and dragged me out of bed to accompany you on this arse-crack of dawn adventure.” He yawned. “The office wasn’t going to go anywhere. We could have waited until morning.”
“It is morning.” Julius narrowed his eyes, but the tramp limping down the sidewalk passed by the office.
“Sure, now.” Max tilted his head. “What got you up so early. I would have thought with that lovely bit of flesh warming your bed, I would have to be the one dragging you out.”
“Shut your mouth about her.” Julius shifted. “And she wasn’t in my bed.”
“Ah.” Max nodded. “Still kicking them out when you’re done.”
Julius jerked his head around and glared at his friend. “What in the blazes are you talking about? I don’t kick women out of bed.”
Max crossed his arms over his chest and dipped his chin. “When’s the last time you woke up next to a woman? Shared breakfast with her?”
“I eat breakfast with Amanda all the time.” Along with Lady Mary, and a footman or two lurking about. But Julius could see that Sutton might have a point. “So, I don’t like to linger. Nothing wrong with that.”
Max flipped the edge of the curtain up and peered out the window. “Your problems go well beyond lingering, and you know it. You don’t even want a woman’s arms wrapped around you.” He turned back to Julius and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Staying in the same bed with someone isn’t a promise to spend the rest of your life together. It just means you regard the woman well enough to greet her in the morning.”
Dropping his gaze, Julius ground his back teeth. Amanda didn’t think he didn’t respect her. She couldn’t. Although, he’d been such a right sot last night, who knew what she thought. Aside from thinking he was a fuckwit. That had been fairly clear.
And he was. He’d overreacted to Amanda’s request. Lost his temper. And it was all because of those damn ropes around his wrists.
He tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves. He could still feel the hemp scraping his skin. Embedding in his wrists. Sweat broke out on his forehead. It was something he never wanted to feel again. But if he didn’t overcome his fears, he could let his friend down a second time.
He never should have let Max go into the catacombs alone, not when they were chasing men who didn’t hesitate to kill. The shame of that was crushing. Drinking himself senseless hadn’t helped. And making Amanda use his ropes on his body damn sure hadn’t been the answer.
If something didn’t change, he would have to resign from the Crown’s service. He was a liability.
“This woman of yours,” Max began.
“Careful.” He wouldn’t let anyone talk about her as though she were a light-skirt. Not even his friend.
Max rolled his eyes. “She means something to you.”
Something that wasn’t meant to be. The bitterness of the situation almost choked him. A woman like Amanda needed a man by her side. Someone who wouldn’t run scared when things became serious.
Waggling his eyebrows, Julius tried to inject levity into his voice. “They all mean something.”
Max leaned forward and got in Julius’s face. “Do not make light of this. You roused me from bed so now you get to listen to me. Tell me, how many times in your life have you cared for a woman? Someone who has actually meant something to you? And don’t give me some bullshit joke.”
Julius remained silent.
“That’s what I thought.” Max settled back. He picked up the flannel-wrapped brick at his feet and tucked it under his coat. “You of all people should know how short life can be. How easily someone you love can be ripped away.” Max stared out the window, his eyes unseeing. “Don’t let what happened in Japan consume you so much that you can’t take the happiness that is offered.”
Julius hesitated. “I never knew you lost anyone.”
“I didn’t.” Max stared bleakly into the distance. “I was the one doing the ripping.”
They sat in silence and watched London come to life. Julius turned his friend’s words over in his mind. He knew they were logical. But fear wasn’t logical.
“There.” Max scooted forward on the bench seat. “Someone’s opening the office.”
Julius leaned forward and peered through the mesh curtain. An unassuming man in a wrinkled coat fumbled with a large brass key at the front door. “They never look like criminal masterminds, do they?”
Max was already halfway down the carriage’s steps. “It doesn’t matter what they look like. They all bleed the same.”
Julius hurried to catch up to his friend. He didn’t want the bleeding to start too early. Not if it wasn’t necessary.
Max pushed through the door to the office, not bothering to knock. The man they’d seen opening the door stood at a row of shelves, a stack of papers in one hand. He spun around, his breath whooshing out in a hiss when he saw them.
He held a hand over his heart. “Gentlemen, you surprised me.” He stepped to a large desk in the middle of the room and laid the papers down. He tugged at the middle of his coat, but the ends didn’t meet across his round
stomach. “What can I do for you?”
Julius circled the room. The door they’d come through, one near the back that appeared to lead to a small kitchen, and two windows. No other means of entry or egress. “I am the Earl of Rothchild and this is the Baron of Sutton. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
The man’s eyes bulged. He clawed his fingers through his hair and tugged at his neckcloth. “Of course, of course. What can I do for such esteemed callers?”
“For starters, you can tell us who you are and who you work for?” Max placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward into the man’s space.
Julius stepped to his side and patted Max’s shoulder. “My friend here is a little tired, so you’ll have to excuse his manners. But an introduction would be appreciated.” He gave the little man a wide smile.
“Uh, sure. Faulkner.” The cotton of his neckcloth stretched under all the tugging. “Lawrence Faulkner. And I’m the clerk for the Ariadne Corporation.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Faulkner.” Cocking a hip on the desk, Julius casually swung his leg back and forth. “And what is it exactly that you do here at Ariadne?”
The man shrugged. “I pay the bills. Manage the correspondence. Like I said, I’m the clerk.”
Max prowled around the desk and poked his finger into a shelf. Faulkner started to turn around.
“But what does Ariadne do?” Julius brought the man’s attention back around. “The records office lists it as the parent company to twenty-six organizations. From bird watching, to a charity for war widows, and a hospital for the poor. You can understand our confusion.”
Faulkner pressed his lips into a white slash. “Are you interested in ornithology?” He shook his head and muttered, “I get more crazy letters from your lot than regarding all the other businesses combined.”
“Do we look like bird-watchers,’ Max growled in the man’s ear.
Faulkner squeaked and skittered to the side. His hip banged into the desk.
“Max, be nice,” Julius warned.
“What?” Max cracked the knuckles of his right hand. “As you said, I’m tired. And I haven’t yet broken my fast. And three nights ago, I slipped in a pool of a man’s blood.” He leaned towards Faulkner. “Have you ever seen a man with his throat slit? It isn’t pretty. So, forgive me if I forget the niceties.”
Faulkner opened and closed his mouth, no sound emerging.
Julius sighed. The longer this investigation continued, the less finesse it was conducted with. “Just tell us about the Ariadne Corporation. Who do you work with? Who hired you?”
“I work alone here.” Faulkner flapped his hand at the office. “It’s just me. I answered an advertisement in the paper and was hired by the company’s attorney. A Mr. Allan. I pay the rents each month for the various offices and respond to correspondence. That’s it.”
“What type of correspondence?” Max asked.
“Questions from the public. There aren’t many.” Faulkner scratched his head. “I don’t think the business and charities do much promotion. But occasionally I’ll get a letter, asking if the Feathered Friends is doing anything to save the Whooper swan, or something like that. It’s a really good job.”
Julius was sure. Minimal work for a full paycheck. “Besides from Mr. Allan, who else have you met in the company?”
“No one,” Faulkner said. His eyes grew wide as Max crowded into him, and the clerk fell back. “I’m the only one who ever comes here. I swear.”
Perfect. Another dead end. “Let’s go get you some breakfast,” he told Max.
Sutton lowered his head and glared at Faulkner. “Hmmm.” The sound rumbled from his chest. Faulkner scrambled back until he was wedged between the wall and the shelves.
“Stop having a lark.” Julius stomped to the front door and slammed out. He hated dead ends. He strode for the carriage and threw himself in.
“What now?” Max clambered in beside him.
“The London for a coffee and a pastry?”
“I didn’t mean breakfast.” Max rolled his eyes. “But that sounds good.” He shouted directions to the driver, and the carriage rocked to life.
Julius rubbed his temple. “I’ll tell Liverpool to put men on him, of course. But his story rings true. It would be smart of the organization to hire a legitimate front man.”
“Tell the men to look out for the poor sot, as well, during their watch,” Max said. “This crime ring seems to cut their losses quickly when their men have been discovered. Those four men in the alley, five if you count the one who slit Allan’s throat, must have followed the attorney from the coffeehouse as we did. He told someone he’d been discovered, and they killed him.”
Julius had the same thought. Human life meant nothing to these people.
“I don’t understand.” Max scratched his cheek. “Why have all these sham organizations? I can’t imagine a bird watching society being lucrative for a crime ring.”
Julius kicked his foot up on the opposite seat. “No, but ever since the income tax was created to pay for these bloody wars, people have been looking for ways to avoid paying it. Setting up a series of false charities would be a good way to go about that. People want to keep their coin in a bank for security reasons, but with the new law, banks are reporting deposits to the Crown. If they make it look like donations …”
“Very clever.” Max drummed his fingers on his thigh. “What about the subsidiaries? Are we going to sit on their offices?”
“Men are looking into them.” Shaking his head, Julius blew out a breath. “But whoever filed all the paperwork, Allan I presume, did a superb job of muddying the trail. Nonexistent shareholders, investors with addresses outside England. Liverpool’s men are going through the documents trying to untangle the mess.”
“Poor bastards. I prefer our way of getting information.” Max cracked his knuckles, and Julius nodded. His friend stretched his mouth into a smile. “Well, now that our part is done, let’s talk about your girl some more, and how you’re ruining your life by acting like a right git.”
Julius rested his head on the back of the bench seat and stared at the ceiling. He changed his mind. Drowning in paperwork didn’t sound so bad.
Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth Fry marched back and forth in front of the fire, her skirts swishing dangerously close to the flames with each pivot. “But don’t you see? After his latest attack, you must debate Lord Hanford. It’s the only way.”
Perching on the edge of her seat, Amanda prepared to stomp on the woman’s skirts should they burst into flame. Really, the reformer was exhausting just to watch. A raging bundle of energy trapped in a diminutive frame. Resisting her entreaties was increasingly tiresome.
“You read his letter in the paper,” Amanda said. “You know the reason that isn’t possible.” Amanda had been repeating the same thing ever since Mrs. Fry and Miss Shaw had pounded on her front door. Resigned to the confrontation, Amanda had led the women to the morning room and attempted to state her case.
The women didn’t listen to reason. They were like Reggie when he got a good grip on his rope. Determined to hold onto their idea at any cost.
Lady Mary glided into the room, two footmen behind her. “I heard we had guests, dear, and thought they might want a spot of tea.”
Amanda smiled at the woman gratefully. Mrs. Fry might be a persuasive and forceful speaker, but no one could talk in circles like her companion. “Thank you, My Lady. This is Mrs. Fry and Miss Shaw. They’re members of the Ladies’ Society for Prison Reform. And this is the Lady Mary Cavindish.”
Lady Mary clapped her small hands together. “How exciting. I’ve heard of your ministry in Newgate Prison, Mrs. Fry. It’s all quite noble.” She sat on the edge of a settee. Reggie trotted into the room and went right to the older woman’s side, waiting for his treat. Lady Mary pulled something from her sleeve and tossed it into his open mouth. “Amanda, did you never see Mrs. Fry while you were there?”
Heat clawed up Am
anda’s cheeks. Yes, everyone knew she’d been a resident in that hellhole, but it wasn’t something that was discussed in polite society. She glared at her chaperone. Amanda had needed the dotty woman who left everyone around her in a muddle. Not the interested, intelligent one. Plus, the woman had stolen her dog. Well, her sister’s dog, but still.
“No,” she gritted out between clenched teeth. “I never saw her there.”
“I didn’t start my ministry until after your incarceration.” Mrs. Fry poked around a tray a footman had settled on the table. She came up with a scone studded with cranberries. “Horrid place. I’m not quite sure how you stood it.”
Amanda hadn’t had a choice. It was amazing what a person could stand when she had to.
She would have thought Julius’s rejection of her last night would have been more than she could bear. It had carved out her heart, left her hollow inside. But after the initial pain, all she’d felt was numb. This morning she’d dressed herself, read the papers, played with Reggie, all without feeling a thing. She’d survive, because there was no other choice.
But she didn’t know how to face Julius again. She and her chaperone didn’t really need a male presence for security. There were the servants, after all. Perhaps Julius would understand and return to his own home.
Leaving her bed just as empty as her heart.
Miss Shaw leaned forward. “What was it like? Being in Newgate?”
Amanda poured herself some tea, ignoring the tremble in her hand. A drop of the hot liquid splashed onto the fingers holding the cup, and she pressed them into her skirts. “About what you’d expect.” She sipped the tea, not minding the burn along her throat. She’d been cold for all those months. She could never complain over scalding tea.
“But what did you do with yourself?” Miss Shaw nibbled on a sweetmeat, her eyes wide. “Were the guards—”
“I would think if you are so curious, Mrs. Fry could take you along for her ministries.” Lady Mary tapped her fingers on the rim of her teacup. “No need for you to only imagine it. Or ask Amanda.”