"The ton didn't believe he-the present earl-was the murderer?"
Lady Osbaldestone frowned. "More accurate to say that judgment was reserved. Dexter, the present one, might have been a hothead, a wild and tempestuous youth, but he'd never struck any of us as a bad apple."
Her ladyship looked at Amanda; her tone was softer when she said, "There's often one bad apple among a good crop, and no one's the wiser until it comes to the crunch-the point of seeing what each apple is made of. While Dexter might be capable of killing, what didn't sit well with many of us was that he didn't have the black heart for murder. He was a colorful young lordling, forceful and alive, devil-may-care and the doubters be damned. He'd only been on the town for some months, but we'd seen enough to judge."
Lady Osbaldestone paused, then continued, "And there was the undeniable fact that his father was a martinet. A good man, but righteously so and very stiff about it. The idea that his son had committed murder, let alone the other, would have scored his pride as well as his soul. Decisions were made and acted on in a matter of hours. In such circumstances, with emotions running high, mistakes could have been made."
Amanda struggled to take it all in. Eventually, she asked, "So the ton's present view of Dexter is…?"
Her ladyship snorted. "With his fortune? Let alone his looks, or so I've heard. Naturally, there are any number of mamas who would marry their daughters to him in a blink, murderer or no." Her eyes bored into Amanda's. "Your mother isn't one of them."
Amanda forced herself not to react.
Lady Osbaldestone sat back, gaze shrewd. "The present situation could best be described as undecided. When Dexter comes to his senses and re-enters the ton, he won't be ostracized-there are enough of us who remember to ensure that. However, unless the matter of that old murder is settled, there will always be a question mark over his name."
Amanda nodded. "Thank you." She went to rise, then stopped. "I meant to ask-what's the connection between Dexter and the Ashfords?"
"A blood tie-Luc Ashford is Martin Fulbridge's first cousin. Their mothers were sisters." Lady Osbaldestone paused, then added, "They were inseparable as boys, as I recall. They look alike, don't they?"
Amanda nodded.
Lady Osbaldestone crowed. "Aha! So you have met the elusive earl. Well, my gel, let me give you a piece of advice." Closing a clawlike hand on Amanda's wrist, her ladyship leaned near. "If you want something badly and you're convinced it's the right thing for you, if it takes a fight to get it-fight!"
Releasing Amanda, she watched her stand. "Remember what I said. If it's the right thing, don't give up, no matter the resistance."
Amanda met her ladyship's eyes, so dark, so old, so wise. She bobbed a curtsy. "I'll remember."
It took her two full days to convince Reggie that it was vital she return to Lady Hennessy's. Three nights after she'd walked in Green Park, she once again entered Number 19, Gloucester Street. Again, the drawing room was fashionably full; Lady Hennessy arched a brow but made them welcome.
Amanda patted Reggie's arm. "Remember what you promised."
Reggie was scanning the throng. "I don't like it. What if some other gentleman approaches you?"
"I'll come scurrying back to your side." As she stepped away, she caught his eye. "Just don't disappear altogether."
Reggie snorted. "As if I would."
Mindful of her instructions, he ambled away, heading for the side of the room. Amanda looked about her, but could see no shapely head sporting locks burnished by the sun. Praying Dexter would appear soon, she put on her smile and started strolling the room.
This time, she was careful not to encourage any gentleman to pay court to her; she joined this group, then that, using the skills honed by her years in the ton to flit without giving offence. All the while she was conscious of steadily increasing tension, of her nerves, notch by notch, drawing tight.
She had no idea how Dexter would react to seeing her once more gracing such a venue. It had been his principal condition in fulfilling her desired adventures-that she would not seek further excitement in this sphere for the rest of this Season. He'd delivered on their bargain-now here she was, apparently reneging on her vow. He wouldn't be impressed, but she was ready to defend her actions. What worried her more was that he would view her presence as a stupidly defiant gesture, a deliberate courting of trouble, and decide she and her actions were beneath his notice.
If, instead of reacting hotly-possessively and protectively-he viewed her coldly and turned his back… she wasn't sure what she would do then.
She needn't have worried-he appeared like an avenging angel, all black frown and narrowed eyes, tight lips and burning gaze. In evening black, he stepped directly in front of her, cutting her off, towering over her. "What the devil are you doing back here?"
"Oh!" She'd jumped; her hand had instinctively risen to her breast-beneath it, her heart thumped. Then relief flooded her. "Good-you're here."
His eyes narrowed even more.
She stepped closer, clutching his lapel, hoping no one noticed. "We can't meet in the park anymore-the sun's rising so early there are others out by six. And I'm having to attend multiple balls every night, so earlier than six is impossible." Searching his face, she detected no softening in his stony expression. "I need to speak with you."
A wary frown appeared in his eyes, dispelling the thunderclouds. "You are speaking with me."
"Yes." She glanced about. "But I can't discuss the matter I wish to speak of here." In public was her clear message. "Is there somewhere…?"
After a pregnant pause, she thought she heard him sigh.