Page 58 of One Thing Leads to a Lover

Just as he reached for the knob, Captain Collins tapped on the door from the other side. “Lady Kingston’s letters have been sent, sir. She’s awaiting your further instructions.”

General Scott motioned for Langley to open the door, as if his leaving had been the general’s plan all along. “Tell her Major Stanhope will be right out.”

In the outer office stood Amanda, her gaze focused on Collins’s empty desktop, an expression of stunned disbelief on her face. Hardly had Langley crossed the threshold when her chin lifted and her dark, worried eyes came to rest on him. “When she gets that note, Rebecca Hurst will think I’ve gone mad,” she said, hurrying toward him. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “H-have I?”

Yes, he wanted to say when she stretched out her hands for reassurance. His reassurance.

Instead, he caught her fingers in his and drew one hand through his arm, so that he might keep her close to his side without raising suspicions. Including hers.

“I for one am quite used to my schemes being thought mad,” Scott declared as he came around to stand in front of them, his quick gaze taking in Amanda’s fingers curled around Langley’s arm, Langley’s hand covering hers. “But I know good sense when I see it. And you, my lady, strike me as eminently sensible.”

Something—a laugh, a cry of protest—rose in Langley’s throat. Amanda must have sensed it. She sent him a look from beneath her lashes, as she’d done that night in the garden, scolding and defiant and vulnerable all at once. He swallowed the sound with an audible gulp.

Scott chuckled, damn him. “Collins, please make the necessary arrangements for Major Stanhope to escort Lady Kingston back to Bartlett House. If she’s anything like Mrs. Scott, I’m sure she will wish to oversee the packing.” Then he turned to Amanda with a bow. “Enjoy Richmond, my lady. And you, too, Magpie.”

Langley made himself nod. Since when did Scott’s assignments involve enjoyment?

Chapter 14

Amanda lay on her back, staring upward, feeling the walls of Charles and Rebecca Hurst’s smallest bedchamber pressing in upon her, imagining that she could make out the edges of the carved medallion at the center of the bed’s high canopy, though darkness hung thickly all around her. Or perhaps she had been lying there so long, the sky outside the windows actually was beginning to hint at the approach of dawn?

No. Still fathomless, featureless black. Hours to go before morning. She drummed her fingers on the coverlet and sighed.

The Hursts’ house possessed lovely gardens at the rear, sloping down through sparse woodlands to the river. Rebecca had made a point of inviting Amanda to stroll in them at any time. But she did not think Rebecca had really intended for her to wander outside in the middle of the night. Besides, it seemed a particularly foolhardy thing to do when someone out there in the world meant her harm.

The same had been true in London, of course, and the abrupt relocation to Richmond was meant to keep her and her family safe. Somehow, though, the unfamiliar surroundings, the oppressive quiet of the country, only made her more ill at ease.

Or perhaps she was just overtired. The muscles of her cheeks ached from maintaining a smile of reassurance, from laughing at herself again and again as she explained to her family that she had been so scatterbrained as to have forgotten to tell any of them about the Hursts’ very kind invitation, forgotten even to order the servants to pack. Mama had been most seriously displeased by the turn of events and had spent the majority of their hour-long carriage ride peppering Amanda with questions to which the boys, too, had demanded answers. Answers she had struggled to give.

Langley might have been some help, but he had conveniently elected to go on horseback.

The envy with which she had watched him trot alongside the question-filled carriage had been somewhat muted by the discovery that he would be sharing the hastily made-over attic space with the boys, as the small house’s only available guest quarters had been reserved for Amanda and her mother. She imagined him there now, two floors above her, sleeplessly staring at the ceiling too.

General Scott’s insistence that he stay with her—with them—had caught Langley off guard. That much was certain. She still could not decide, however, whether he had resented the order. The ride back to Bartlett House from the Horse Guards ought to have given her an opportunity to discover his feelings about the matter, perhaps his feelings about a great many things.

Then again, perhaps his businesslike brusqueness had been the answer to her questions and her heart simply refused to accept it.

Not that she had been forming expectations about him, or imagining that Langley being ordered to continue the ruse of tutor might provide an opportunity to repeat last night’s activities. The general would be astonished to think his instructions had been interpreted thus!

But surely, that morning, there had been a moment—a moment before Jamie had revealed how the codebook had come into his hands and the day had taken such a strange turn—when she had seen longing in Langley’s warm, whisky-colored eyes?

The bed’s linens whispered an admonition as she restlessly shifted her hips. Mind your step. When exactly had she become a merry widow, not just intrigued by but actually lusting after a devastatingly handsome, entirely unsuitable man?

This was carrying her desire for adventure too far.

Determined to put a stop to such nonsense, she squeezed her eyes shut and drew several deep breaths. Her family was in Richmond under the protection of an officer of the British army because they were in danger. She needed to keep her mind on what was important. And if she hoped to stay alert to threats, she needed rest.

She would not let her thoughts wander to the dark attic, where the air was doubtless so stifling on this early summer night that Langley’s nightshirt must be clinging damply to the muscles of his arms and chest—if he had not been forced to shed it entirely.

She absolutely would not let her thoughts wander back to last night.…

“Amanda.” Mama’s groan rose from a mountain of pillows on the opposite side of the enormous bed. “No one is more aware than I that these are hardly ideal arrangements. If I had realized that the Hursts were in the midst of redecorating and could spare just one room—and one bed—for the two of us, I would surely have stayed in London. But as I am here…please. Go. To. Sleep.”

“Yes, Mama,” Amanda agreed, knowing she promised the impossible. Still, she dutifully turned onto her side, punched down her pillow, and settled into it with a sigh. She needed to clear her mind, or else she would be dreaming of Langley next.

Closing her eyes, she pictured the swift, clear river sweeping her unruly thoughts out to sea.…

She awoke to a light-filled room and the sounds of children’s laughter. Her children’s. When she twisted her head on the pillow, she discovered herself alone in the bed. The very notion that Mama had already risen, and quietly enough not to disturb Amanda, made her certain that the hour must be late indeed. Tossing back the covers, she slid from the mattress and hurried to the window to investigate.