Rex rose when Lady Royce did, but stayed Amanda with a smile. "Amanda and I need to speak of our progress."
"Surely you can speak in the morning. I think you have made quite enough progress with her."
Rex's cheeks grew warm. "I meant her case."
The countess raised her eyebrows.
Rather than let the two strong-willed Royces battle over her, Amanda stood and curtsied. "I am a bit weary. I, ah, hardly slept last night, either. I will bid you farewell, my lord. My lady."
The countess waited for Amanda to leave the room before turning to her son. "As for you, Jordan, you need to know that you cannot have your cake and eat it, too."
He could not have any, for Verity had eaten the last one on the tray while his attention had been on Amanda, and how her gown hugged her curves on the way out. He swallowed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning if you do not intend to marry the girl, you cannot dally with her. You can keep your bachelorhood, or you can warm yourself at the fire I see burning between you. Not both. I told you, I will not let Amanda's heart get broken, or her virtue given to anyone but her rightful husband."
She was right, Rex knew, but he could not help feeling insulted. "Would that you had stood up for me that way, just once in my life."
"I stood up for you all your life. I hired Nanny Brown and I selected your tutors. I fought to keep you from the army, then insisted you were put on the Aide's staff when I lost the battle. I-"
Rex interrupted. "You know him, the man they call the Aide?"
"Do not underestimate me, you silly boy. I know a great deal. I know your grades at school and your accomplishments in the military. I have spent my time, and my influence, with the authorities and their wives, defending your reputation, demanding you and your cousin be rewarded with advancements for your contributions. I did not cross you off my list like an unwanted guest at a dinner party. I will fight with every fiber of my body to keep you safe, but not at Amanda's expense. I will not let you be a heartless fool like your father. Do you understand?"
He bowed. "Good night, madam."
She stared back at him. "You called me mother."
"You called me a heartless fool."
He acted like one, too. He stayed awake for hours, thinking of the countess's words, yet still wanting what he could not have. He wrestled with his conscience, but lost the battle. He pulled on his robe, but not his slippers, to make less noise. Then he slowly opened his door, thanking the countess's efficient household that the hinges did not squeak.
Amanda knew she was a fool without anyone telling her so. She'd had all the happiness she'd asked for in one night; more, she expected, than many women experienced in a lifetime.
It was not enough. She knew Rex did not love her, although she believed he did care for her. He was definitely attracted to her, but that was not enough, either. His mother might demand an offer of marriage out of him, but that was ridiculous to contemplate for a woman in Amanda's position. No matter what the countess said, no matter how many jewels she found in her coffers, no one married a murderess.
She could not force Rex to love her, Amanda admitted, but she, sure as Eve talked to the snake, could make him make love to her. Tonight she wore a different silky nightgown, one trimmed with sweet little forget-me-nots she had embroidered on the bodice herself. She smiled. The night rail looked anything but sweet when paired with her mother's sapphire necklace. Amanda tiptoed to her door and peered out into the hall.
Lady Royce was not a fool. She had a footman stationed in the corridor.
Chapter Twenty-five
Lady Royce's plan-one of her plans, anyway-appeared to be working. Soon invitations to the countess included ones for Miss Amanda Carville, and their escorts, of course. All but the highest sticklers welcomed the party from Royce House, and one or two of those who refused to countenance the countess's questionable guests actually canceled their evening plans altogether, rather than offend Lady Royce. She was on too many charitable committees, behind too many worthy foundations, too big a contributor to political causes. Besides, as her son was quickly learning, too many people actually liked his… mother.
As for the others, what a coup it was for a hostess to have the latest scandal broth brewing right on her doorstep. The ladies vied to have their invitations accepted, sending round notes and reminders. They stopped inviting Sir Nigel after the countess declared she would not attend any function where the barrister was present. No one wanted to be excluded from her ladyships's elegant dinners; no one wanted to be in her black books. An official of the high court was nothing to a peeress of the highest social standing.
The beau monde was happy enough to have the dangerous cousins and the killer among them. Then, too, if Lady Royce claimed Miss Carville was innocent and not bachelor fare as they'd heard, they would believe it, also. The countess was known to be the most upright of matrons, with nary a whisper of wrongdoing in all the years apart from her peculiar husband. Loyal to a fault, she would never hear a word against Lord Royce, either, the ton had soon learned. What, believe that scurvy, scrimping Sir Frederick instead of one of their own? Never.
Amanda was treated with courtesy, if not warmth. She sat beside the countess and made pleasant conversations without being pushing. She did not encourage the gentlemen, would not dance or go off alone, and she wore somber colors. The polite world agreed that she was a prettily behaved miss. But they had always thought so, they told each other and the countess.
Everyone watched to see Rex's behavior toward the young lady. He felt as if he were a canary in a flimsy cage surrounded by hungry cats, all of whom were sharpening their claws. He could not dance with Amanda, take her out to the balconies, or find hidden paths through darkened gardens. He could not sit beside her all night, keeping her safe from the tabbies and the gossips. He could not stare at her, admiring her poise, her charm, her luminous beauty. He could not even tuck an errant blond curl back under her bonnet, not without having the banns called.
So he took a page from Daniel's book and disappeared as soon as he saw the ladies seated at whatever affair the countess decreed they attend. That is, Rex tried to escape the scrutiny and the speculation. Instead, he found himself swamped with gushing misses, all wanting to declare they had not killed Sir Frederick, just so they could be thrilled and chilled by looking into his startling eyes. Young men wanted to know what he called the knot in his neckcloth. He called it a knot. They dubbed it the Rexford Knight Fall, in honor of his quest to rescue the lady.
Older men pressed him to join their political parties, their committees to reform this or to bolster that. He nodded politely without committing himself. Older women met the same fate: no promises, no encouragement. They bored him to tears, every one. Worse, he was wasting time, Amanda's time. The men on his list of suspects or conspirators did not attend the same gatherings as the countess. Lydia Burton certainly did not.
Daniel went where the countess directed, but was better at finding the card room or the refreshments table or an empty library with comfortable sofas for a nap. He had no title, no fortune, so had no metaphorical bull's-eye painted on his back. Every time a female spoke to him, he found a new itch to scratch.
"Why the devil can't they tell the truth?"
"What, they should say your neckcloth is a shambles, your dotted waistcoat is dotty, your conversation is dull, and dancing with you is a torture that their poor feet will never recover from? Be happy they lie and say it was a pleasure."
After a few days of this, both cousins rebelled. The countess allowed them to attend the theater instead of a rout party, where Daniel enjoyed the farce, and Rex enjoyed watching Amanda laugh as if she had no cares in the world. And he got to hold her hand where no one could see. They also went to view the Egyptian Exhibit and the new waxworks, where no one told lies. Of course, no one was alive, but Daniel and Rex found that a relief. On pleasant afternoons the cousins dutifully accompanied the ladies' carriage to the park, but both gentlemen rode off as soon as Lady Royce's friends gathered around, halting the flow of traffic behind them.