Page 17 of Murder in Matrimony
“The answer is obvious to me.” Simon returned the paper to Grady. “She must confess the name of the Mayfair Marauder.”
Grady’s face slackened with relief. “I told her the very same.”
“It is clear that the person knows who she is and will have his revenge,” continued Simon. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“I agree.”
“I’m glad we do.” Simon looked at Amelia. “When will you reveal the name?”
Amelia calmly smoothed her dress. “Never.”
A maid entered with a hefty tea tray. “Here we are!”
The three of them watched her place the tea things on the table. Amelia was grateful for the assortment of sandwiches and cakes, especially considering it wasn’t the traditional time for tea. Cook was considerate when it came to male guests, however. She had three sons of her own and knew how hungry men could be at the noon hour.
Perhaps sensing the tension in the room, the maid glanced tentatively at Amelia. “Shall I pour?”
“No, thank you. I’ll take it from here.”
When the maid was gone, Amelia poured three cups of tea. “Sugar?”
“No.” The word was a curse in Simon’s mouth.
“I’d like sugar.” Grady selected three sandwiches. “And milk, please.”
“Milk, Lord Bainbridge?”
“You know I take it black,” Simon spat.
“Do I?” Amelia tilted her head. “I’m not good with domestic details.”
“You will reveal the name of the thief, Amelia. Grady and I agree it’s the right thing to do.”
“It ismycolumn. It ismydecision.” Never had Amelia felt so passionate or possessive about her work. It was her workalone. Who were these men to tell her how to do it? Of course they cared for her, and she cared for them, but she did not tell them how to do their jobs, and she preferred they offered her the same respect.
“And if the blackmailer comes after you?” Simon set down the tea she offered.
“That is a risk I’m willing to take.”
“I am not,” said Simon. “I know his identity, and I am willing to reveal it.”
“You wouldn’t!” Amelia gasped.
“I could and would if it meant preventing harm to you or your family.” He was as obstinate in his words as she had been in hers. “Frankly, I’m surprised you wouldn’t do the same.”
“I would do anything for my family. You know that. But the blackmailer might not even know my identity. When I know for certain, I’ll act.”
“You’ll reveal the name of the Mayfair Marauder, you mean?” Grady clarified.
“I’ll act on the best interest of everyone involved,” she stated. “Until then, I ask for your patience on the matter. We won’t print the letter. Silence at least will pacify the blackmailer.”
“For now,” answered Grady. “But not forever.” He drank his tea.
To Simon’s credit, he did not answer. He studied her like a mathematical equation that was just beyond his calculation. He didn’t understand her loyalty to Lord Drake; perhaps he was even envious of it. She and Lord Drake were bound by their shared experience and sorrow. They’d both watched their loved ones battle diseases, Lord Drake longer than Amelia. She could only guess how hard it was for him to see his father suffer, enduring the arduous work of watching a person fight an illness that was as cruel as any war. Unless one had been through it, one couldn’t imagine the feeling of helplessness. In war, one might retaliate with a gun or knife. But against a disease that took a person from his loved one day by day? It was an invisible enemy fought in the dark.
“Have you any updates on Mr. Cross?” Amelia asked, switching topics.
“Word is the police are combing the East End for a thief or beggar who did the deed.” Grady held up his empty cup, and Amelia refilled it. “They suspect one of his connections from Wapping. A lot of bad men live in that area.”
