Page 86 of An Unexpected Earl

“No!” she screamed, dropping her cup and smashing it against the floor. She ran through the house, shouting out to Drummond to help. But the butler wasn’t in sight, and she couldn’t wait for him.

Yanking open the front door, she raced outside. She flung herself between Frederick and the men. “Leave him alone!”

“Move out of the way, ma’am,” the third man ordered. “We’re with Bow Street. This doesn’t concern you.”

Her gaze dropped to the man’s hands—not a gun as she’d feared but a pair of iron manacles. “You’re arresting him?” She turned quickly back and forth between the two men behind her, still holding onto Freddie even though he wasn’t struggling at all. She leveled her gaze on the more dangerous man in front. “On what charge?”

“Corruption.”

“Brought by whom?”

“Sir Charles Varnham. Now step aside.”

“But—but that’s—”Impossiblenow that Pearce had seemingly agreed to the trust and Frederick had done all that the blackmailer had wanted. As far as anyone knew, the trust would go through, the last men would be placed—

Her blood turned to ice. No, the trustwasn’tgoing through. She’d said as much herself at the Black Ball, right in front of Freddie’s cronies and anyone else who might have overhead. Including the blackmailer.

Oh, she’d been so stupid! Everything she’d feared was now set in motion. All because of her.

In desperation, she jabbed a finger at Frederick and then in the general direction of Westminster. “You cannot arrest him.” She needed a reason—anyreason that would buy her time and make the men leave. Her mind spun, only to latch onto— “He’s a Member of Parliament! He has Parliamentary privilege against arrest while the House is in session.”

“That’s only for civil charges,” Frederick informed her quietly.

She whirled around to face him, then froze, struck by his expression. He was shocked by this, but also weak and defeated, with slumping shoulders and his hat knocked to the ground at his feet.

“We’re arresting him on charges of smuggling, among other things,” the man with the manacles explained.

But she barely heard him, her focus on her brother and her mind running rapidly through all that would now be destroyed. “No—you have to fight this.” For God’s sake, he wasn’t even arguing in his own defense!

The man behind her roughly shoved her aside.

As she stumbled to gain her balance, he clamped the manacles over Freddie’s wrists. The two men holding him hurried him to a carriage waiting down the street, opened the door, and shoved him inside. They followed after him and slammed shut the door.

The third man wordlessly doffed his hat to Amelia, then swung up onto the bench beside the driver. The whip cracked, and the team started forward at a fast clip, disappearing around the corner.

Gulping down great mouthfuls of air to keep back a scream, Amelia ran back inside the house. “Maggie!” She hurried to her room, ignoring the bewildered stare of Drummond, who had finally come to the front door to investigate the commotion. “Maggie, I need you!”

Amelia threw open the doors to her armoire and grabbed the first day dress she found.

“Miss, what on earth…?” Maggie halted in the open doorway and gaped.

“I have to dress—quickly.” She yanked open the drawer and reached for a shift, tossing both it and the dress over the back of a nearby chair. “Frederick’s been arrested.”

Her maid closed the door and whispered, “Sir Charles?”

Amelia nodded firmly with a bite to her lip. “Just now.”

“What are you going to do?” Maggie wrung her hands as she came forward.

“I’m going to speak to Sir Charles.” When she reached for a corset, Maggie stopped her and selected a different one, along with a pair of stockings. “Make him understand that no good can come from prosecuting Freddie, that he’ll only be hurting me and a group of innocent women.” She frowned as she removed her dressing gown. “And when that doesn’t work, I’ll throw myself at his feet and beg.”

“And when that doesn’t work?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I won’t give up.”

Within minutes, Maggie had dressed her and fixed her hair in a simple but presentable chignon. Amelia hopped across the room toward her writing desk on one foot at a time as she pulled on a pair of half boots while Maggie went to ask Drummond to fetch a hackney. Amelia quickly scribbled out a note for Pearce, then sealed it.

“Deliver this to Lord Sandhurst.” She handed Maggie the note as she snatched up her shawl and dashed for the door. “His town house is on St James’s Square. If he isn’t there, try the old armory north of the City. I’m certain that his man McTavish can give you directions.”