A Persistant Attraction (3 page)

Amanda thought of facing the crowd of guests in the ballroom and nearly groaned.

“Could we have our carriage pulled around to the servant’s entrance? I’d like to leave without causing a stir.”

“Of course, dear.”

Aunt Claire smiled. “I should have thought of that myself. The whole ballroom was abuzz with excitement and horror. At least five ladies fainted before I got back here.”

Lady Leighton sighed. “I suppose we’ll be the talk of the town tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” Aunt Claire said. “You’ll have every member of society begging to attend your next party after all this excitement.”

“I suppose you’re right, but I would rather have had a quiet evening, as I’m sure you would have.” Lady Leighton looked at Amanda. “Are you certain you are well enough to withstand the drive?”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Before Amanda left with her aunt and sister, they concocted a story for Lady Leighton to spread. The attacker, as far as they knew, was a particularly zealous footpad who had lain in wait hoping to steal a lady’s jewels. He hadn’t been expecting such resistance and had panicked, pulling out his weapon and giving Amanda a minor injury.

No mention would be made of the note from the footman. They did not want anyone knowing that Amanda had been targeted specifically.

When their carriage began to roll down the street, Aunt Claire leaned close to Amanda and fixed her with a hard stare. “You know more about this than you are letting on.”

Amanda did her best to remain calm. “Whatever do you mean?”

“There’s something peculiar going on here. This man came after you for a reason.” Amanda considered confessing, but decided against it. She needed time to think. The last thing she wanted to do was put her aunt in danger either from the man who had sent the note or from her own health. Claire was much improved, but she’d suffered a severe respiratory illness after the excitement of Cassandra’s nuptials. She was still weaker than normal, and Amanda did not want to burden her.

“I’ve done nothing to provoke such an attack.”

“Of course not, dear, but trouble and adventure find you whether you do anything to warrant it or not.”

Amanda laughed. “That’s true enough.”

Her aunt said nothing further, but Amanda could tell by the set of her jaw that the conversation would be continued at a later date.

*

Hours later, Rhys sat at the desk in his study, fisting his hands in frustration. When he’d heard the buzz across the ballroom at Lady Leighton’s, he’d used all his willpower not to open every door in the place until he found Amanda and saw for himself that she was well.

All he could think about was how pale and lifeless she’d looked after she’d been shot several months before. The thought of her in danger again made his blood boil.

What had happened? An attempted robbery as Lady Leighton had said or something more sinister? Knowing Amanda, there was more to the story.

He considered calling on her the next day and demanding a full account. He doubted she’d agree to see him, but at least he had an excuse to try.

He slammed his fist down on his desk. Hell and damnation, what was wrong with him? He was not some young pup just out of Oxford. His infatuation with Amanda was ridiculous.

He would not permit himself to be humiliated by being turned away at Lady Morgan’s door. He’d simply have to believe Lady Leighton was telling the truth, and Amanda was only superficially wounded.

At least Amanda was staying with her aunt. Lady Morgan was tough as nails. He had no doubt she would see to her niece’s well being, even if the niece in question put up a fight.

But if he heard of any other incidents or got even a hint that the attack had been personal, Amanda’s safety would take precedence over her desire to keep him at a distance. He would not allow anyone to harm her.

*

Amanda woke to bright sunlight streaming through her window. She’d slept far later than usual. She wondered why, then she made the mistake of pushing herself up on her elbows. Pain radiated down her side, and she collapsed on the bed.

Her frightening evening came back in a flash. She shuddered at the memory of the knife slashing her skin.

Now that she knew the note she’d received was no joke, she had to figure out why she’d been targeted. Then she had to make a plan to protect herself and her family.

A light knock sounded at her door, and she bid whomever it was to enter. The door opened slowly and Elise appeared. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Just a little sore.” She wished her words were true. She felt like she’d been run down by a horse. “I’m also terribly hungry.”

“Would you mind if I ordered a tray and joined you?”

“You haven’t eaten yet?”

“No, I…wanted to make sure you were all right first.”

“You haven’t been worrying yourself sick over me, have you?”

“Not really. I just—”

“Of course you have. It’s ingrained in your nature. Ring for Caitlin, and ask her to send trays for both of us.”

Elise did as she was bade then sat on the edge of Amanda’s bed. Amanda reached for her sister’s hand. “I’m sorry you were frightened.” Elise exhaled loudly. “That’s so like you. To be worried about others instead of quaking with fear after what happened to you.” Amanda reached up and pushed a stand of hair out of her sister’s face. “Believe me. I was plenty scared.”

“No one would have known.”

“Good.”

Elise rolled her eyes. “Of course, you would think so, but it’s damned disconcerting not to ever know what one’s sister is thinking or feeling. No one can read you, Amanda.” Amanda frowned. “Elise, when did you start using such language?”

Her sister had the grace to blush. “I suppose I picked it up from Rosemary, one of the girls I made friends with my last year at school. She’s a bit wild.” Amanda couldn’t help but smile. She could easily imagine Elise being her usual jovial self to a girl who’d been branded as “wild”, one who probably didn’t fit in with the other simpering misses at Miss Hampton’s Wretched School for Submissive Girls.

Amanda knew all too well how difficult life there could be. She’d nearly been tossed out of the establishment herself.

Their breakfast arrived, and they both took time to add milk and sugar to their tea and taste Cook’s delightful raisin scones before speaking again.

“So tell me more about Mr. Whittaker,” Amanda said in an attempt to move the conversation away from her attack.

Elise pressed her lips together as if stifling a girlish giggle. “Isn’t he amazing?” Amanda smiled. “He certainly did me a great service.”

“I admire him exceedingly and I think…I think he feels something for me as well.

“He showed all the signs of being completely infatuated with you. Have you talked to Aunt Claire about the match?”

“Oh, no. I…I can’t. You see—”

Elise’s words were interrupted by a knock at the door and Caitlin’s cheerful voice telling them the mail had arrived.

Amanda bade her enter and each of the sisters received a packet of letters. Elise flipped through hers anxiously, smiled, and began to tear into one. Amanda could only assume it was from Mr. Whittaker.

Amanda had a letter from Cassandra and one from her cousin. Her heart sank when she recognized the handwriting on the third letter in the stack. The same person had penned the anonymous note she’d received the day before. She broke the sealing wax and opened the missive.

Perhaps I underestimated the time you would need to gather your funds. I will expect
you to meet me in three days at the pre-disclosed location and time. If you fail me again,
you and your beautiful sister will suffer until you beg to be killed.

Amanda felt the color drain from her face.

Elise leapt up. “Amanda, what’s wrong? Do I need to summon Aunt Claire?” Amanda forced her lips into a smile. “I…I simply twisted too far to the left. The movement pulled at my wound.”

Her face pale, Elise examined Amanda’s side. “You don’t appear to be bleeding.”

“I’m fine, but perhaps it would be best if I got some more sleep.” She hated to dismiss her sister, but she needed time alone to process her thoughts.

“Of course. I’m sorry to have tired you.”

“I was glad for the company. I’m just…exceedingly tired. I’m sure I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”

Elise smiled and insisted on tucking Amanda in. Then she grabbed a last scone from their tray and departed.

Amanda pushed the covers down and sat up with her back against the headboard.

She picked up her packet of letters and read the ominous note again. Three days. Not nearly enough time to investigate the man who’d attacked her.

She needed help. As much as she believed in her own abilities to manage crises, she couldn’t track this man down on her own. And she had no resources from which to gather such a large sum of money.

But whom could she trust? Her aunt was out of the question. She did not need the strain Amanda’s problems would put on her. She would not bother her younger sister either. She was certain Elise would volunteer Mr. Whittaker’s help, but the young lovers needed a chance to enjoy their Season.

She intended to call on Mrs. Lillington as soon as her injury would permit it, but she doubted the woman knew anything about the man who’d given her the note. Most likely Amanda’s attacker had chosen someone he’d never met to pass the missive along.

Mark and Cassandra were too far away to assist her so quickly. Besides, she did not want to disturb them when they were still newlyweds nor would she do anything to risk their baby.

Who did that leave? The answer hit her with a thump. Rhys Stanton.

*

The house was finally quiet. The clock in her sitting room told Amanda it was just past midnight. She was certain her aunt was sleeping by now, and she’d heard Elise retire at least an hour before. It was time to make her move.

She stepped onto the small balcony outside her window and tossed down an old tattered cloak. Then she swung one leg over the wall, thankful she’d kept the breeches she’d stolen from her cousin years ago. She gasped as her side twinged and pain shot across her abdomen.

She bit her lip and steeled herself against the pain. Then she lowered herself slowly until she hung by her hands before dropping to the ground. Her side screamed as she landed, and she lifted the man’s shirt she wore to make sure she hadn’t torn the wound open. Fortunately it had healed enough to remain closed Nevertheless, the pain dizzied her. She bent over, breathing slowly until the world righted itself.

She knew she had to get moving. She picked up her cloak and wrapped it around herself. Then she checked her hair to make sure the jump hadn’t dislodged her queue.

Hopefully, anyone she met would think her a young footman on an errand for his master. She knew the disguise wouldn’t work close up, but from a distance…well, it was the best she could do. Fortunately, Rhys lived only two streets away.

A few people passed on the far side of the street, but none of them paid attention to her. The only creature she came in contact with was an overly friendly mutt who followed her to Rhys’s doorstep before she managed to shoo him away.

She took a deep breath as she stared at Rhys’s ornate gold knocker. She’d come this far. Turning away now was not an option. Still, she struggled to make her hand obey her mind’s command to knock.

She was insane to be visiting a notorious rake at this hour. It went against multiple rules of propriety, but what was a woman to do when she was threatened with torture and death? She bit her lip to hold in the laughter that tickled her throat. It was the only response she could give her situation besides tears. She summoned her courage and knocked.

A severe-looking gray-haired man answered the door. A look of shock played across his features before he schooled his face once again into a look of disdain.

“What can I do for you…miss?”

“I need to see Mr. Stanton. It is a matter of some urgency.”

“Mr. Stanton is not to be disturbed at this hour. Please call again in the morning.”

“If you give him my card, I assure you he will agree to see me.” She pulled a calling card from the inner pocket she’d sewn into her cloak.

The man looked down at the card. Amanda assumed he recognized her name, since he gestured for her to come into the foyer. “Wait here for a moment, miss. I’ll see if Mr.

Stanton is at home.”

Amanda took the opportunity to look around. The drawing room door stood open.

She noted that the furnishings echoed the bold, rich style of the foyer, heavy dark wood mixed with fabrics in reds and grays with silver accents.

She wondered whether Rhys had chosen the decor himself. It suited him, that was for certain. She could easily imagine his tall frame lounging against the burgundy leather of the sofa.

The valet returned and informed her that Mr. Stanton would see her in his study. Her heart pounded as she followed the stiff-backed man to the door of the study. He announced her and she stepped into the room.

Rhys sat with his feet propped up on a huge mahogany desk. His coat, waistcoat and cravat lay on the floor beside him. He wore only a linen shirt, breeches and well-polished

boots. The buttons of his shirt were undone, and it hung open, revealing the hard muscles of his chest. The sight made Amanda’s heart pound and brought heat to her cheeks.

Rhys looked exhausted, but a primitive power still leapt behind his eyes. Watching him made her feel warm and strangely agitated. She noted the whiskey decanter and glass on the desk. Over half of the amber liquid was gone. Surely he had not drunk it all himself. If he had, she was in for more trouble than she’d expected.

“Leave us, Meadows,” he said, waving a hand at his valet.

His words were slightly slurred, but he still managed to project authority into his tone. Meadows glanced at her as if giving her one last chance to abandon her foolish errand. She smiled at him and stood her ground.

When Meadows closed the door behind him, Rhys smiled like a fox who’d found the chicken coop. “I must say I’m surprised. I’ve fantasized many a night about you coming to me, ready for the pleasure I could give you, but I never thought the dream would come true.”