The King's Code (The Lady Spies Series #3): A Regency Historical Romance (12 page)

~

Annoyed
, Falcon sat in his office on Tuesday afternoon and waited for his stubborn cryptographers to arrive.

He had, unbeknownst to the pair, seen them both individually earlier in the day and that was indeed the source of his current irritation.

“Lady Juliet, Mister McCurren, and Mister Habernathy,” his secretary announced.

“Send them in.”

Falcon hid his anger as the trio took their seats. Juliet and Seamus sat in the two wooden chairs, while Habernathy sat on a stool behind them.

“It appears to me as though we have a problem with the function of your office.”

Seamus looked stunned, having not a half hour ago informed Falcon that he had identified the last marker of the elusive code. “What ‘problem’ are you referring to?”

Falcon leaned forward, his hands clasped together as his forearms rested on his desk.

“Were you aware, Lady Juliet, that Mister McCurren has already identified the remaining marker?”

“He mentioned it, yes—”

“And did you discuss his findings pertaining to the discovery of the final marker?” The girl’s eyes darted to Seamus. “Or was that the day you chose to stay in the comfort of your home rather than travel to the Foreign Office?”

“I do apologize, my lord.” The lady looked down, contrite. “I’m afraid I was not feeling well yesterday.”

McCurren glanced at the girl, sympathy crossing over his handsome features, a sympathy that Falcon did not share.

“My agents are expected to send word of such inevitable occurrences, and had Mister McCurren not himself gone round to check on you”—the girl’s head snapped up, surprised that he knew—“I would have been forced to send Mister Habernathy to divine your location.”

“Yes, my lord.” The lady nodded once then shook her head, adding, “It shall not happen again.”

“See that it does not.” Falcon turned his attention to Seamus McCurren. “And were you aware, Mister McCurren, that Lady Pervill had visited the office of the
London Herald
Friday last?”

The boy’s jaw dropped a fraction but he refused to look at the diligent young woman. “No, I was not.”

“Which is precisely why I have called this little meeting.” Falcon glanced from one of his brilliant cryptographers to the other. “It appears to me that this collaboration of minds is at the moment anything but collaborative.”

“Yes, my lord,” they mumbled in unison.

“If we are to capture the Frenchman, we must first set aside pride and petty jealousies and work together. That includes sharing information!” Falcon was beginning to shout so he paused, calming his pounding heart. “You will go back to your office, discuss what you have learned individually, and then apply that knowledge toward breaking this code. Together!”

When he had nothing else to say, Juliet Pervill rose then curtsied a reticent farewell as Habernathy opened the door for her, reminding Falcon of his second reason for calling this meeting.

“Mister Habernathy, I would like for you to stay.” McCurren gave his secretary an encouraging nod then left the room, closing the door behind him. “I have a very important job for you, James.”

“Yes, my lord?”

≈

Juliet stormed down the main corridor of the Foreign Office, eager to put as much distance between herself and that Scottish scoundrel. She had been analyzing the last marker all blessed morning and not one word from Seamus to inform her that he had found something in the article!

As a matter of fact, he had not spoken to her at all.

“Good morning,” a deep voice said and Juliet looked up at the face of an exquisite gentleman walking toward her.

“Good morning,” Juliet replied, cursing her mother for burning her dreary gowns.

The man stopped before her, smiling rakishly as he asked, “Are you in need of an escort, miss?”

Juliet felt herself blush, unaccustomed to such forward, and decidedly handsome, young men.

“No, she is not.” Juliet looked over her shoulder at the dull rumble of Seamus McCurren’s deep voice as he caught up to her, grasping her upper arm from behind.

“I’m afraid we must get back to our office, good day,” Seamus said, his tone anything but solicitous.

The young man bowed and let them pass.

Seamus pushed her forward, but Juliet could not help looking back over her left shoulder. The rogue down the hall grinned as he gave her figure the once-over. Finding her to his liking, the blackguard winked. Juliet gasped at the young man’s blatant assessment and was thankful when they had turned a corner and were out of the man’s lecherous view.

“What do you expect when you walk around like that in a building full of men?”

“When I ‘walk around like’ what?” Juliet was incredulous.

“What happened to those gray gowns you wore when you first began working at the Foreign Office?” Seamus demanded, opening their outer office door.

“My mother burned them, if you must know.” She wrenched her arm free and opened the door to their inner office, slamming it in his face.

Seamus opened the inner door with a violent tug. “Why?” he growled, then it was his turn to slam the abused door.

“She found them unsightly.” Juliet sat at her desk.

“That was a mistake.” Seamus was at his desk in three strides.

“Why?”

“Beautiful women in a building full of unmarried men will only lead to—”

“Temptation?”

Seamus turned to stare at her, apparently unsure if she was referring to
her
temptation or that of the men.

“Ruination.” His eyes were cold and cruel and Juliet looked away from the sting of his censure.

There was a lengthy silence and Juliet swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.

“May I read the
Herald
article? I had no idea you gleaned any information from it bar the finding of the last marker.” Juliet glared at him, her tone accusing him of conspiring against her.

“Aye, you can read it.” He walked the short distance to her desk. “If you tell me why you went to the
London Herald
in the first place.”

Juliet did not look up, but she could feel him staring down at her. “It occurred to me that if I knew the amount of time it took from the submission of an article to its publication date—”

“Falcon could have his men wait for the French cryptographer to submit the next code.” Seamus finished her thought, unimpressed.

“Yes, then I went home with my new information and made calculations to determine in which publication the anomaly was most likely to next appear.” Juliet looked up and, having nothing else to say, asked, “Why didn’t you tell me of your findings?”

“I did.” Seamus held her eyes.

“You most certainly did not!” She would have remembered, but then again she had forgotten quite a lot of that particular conversation the moment Seamus kissed her. Juliet rose, uncomfortable with him standing so close to her, remembering his kiss.

“I told you about the marker yesterday.” He waited and then turned his back to her. “However, you might not remember as you were a bit indisposed.”

Juliet stared at his back in disbelief. He thought she had been inebriated during the encounter. She knew that he had seen her tumbler of scotch, had realized after he was gone that it was the reason Seamus had left so abruptly.

Because he believed no lady would behave as wantonly as she had unless her judgment had been soaked in whiskey.

And he was correct, most ladies would not. But there was some quality to Seamus McCurren that sent her mind on holiday. Touching the man was so incredibly . . . Her eyes drifted to his alluring backside.

And having him touch her . . . She bit the side of her lip.

“Yes, I had just returned from the park,” she offered as a feeble explanation, deciding it better that he believe her to have been “indisposed” than to know the humiliating truth. “Will you show me your findings now?”

Seamus shrugged with a touch of embarrassment. “Aye.”

“Thank you,” she said, so mortified she could hardly think.

“It would be easier if you came to my desk,” Seamus said, pointing as if she’d no idea where his desk was located. “I found the last marker in the
Herald
, and once I did, I examined the papers as a whole as you did last week.”

Juliet smiled, feeling validated. “Yes?”

“The four publications in which the markers appeared are the
Herald
,” he held up the latest paper. “The
Gazette
, the
Times
, and the
London Post
.” She nodded and he continued. “The first marker was found in the
Gazette
. The second marker appeared in the
Herald
, the third . . .” Seamus stared at her but needed to go no further.

“The stupid frog put the markers in alphabetical order?” Juliet laughed and he smiled brilliantly, nodding.

“Rather stupid.”

“Rather,” she agreed, momentarily dazed by his masculine beauty. “Did you, uh, find anything else?”

“This cryptographer covets order.”

“Yes.” To the point of foolishness.

“So, with that in mind, I looked at the articles again and found another pattern.”

Her jaw dropped and she hit him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “That’s fantastic, Seamus!”

He chuckled and Juliet looked down at his elegant fingers as they spread out the five E code clippings. She could not help remembering the feel of his hand splayed across her breast.

“Initially, I thought the E placement was random until I found the last marker. But look at this.” Seamus pointed. “The E appears in the second paragraph twice, the fifth paragraph once, and the sixth once. I think the paragraph in which the E marker appears denotes the retrieval site location.”

Juliet turned toward him, her eyes widening with comprehension. “Then there are at least three retrieval sites.”

“At least three.” Seamus stared down at her, his eyes dancing with intelligence. Juliet could not help herself. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Hard.

Seamus stumbled backward, not expecting her weight, and Juliet followed. She closed her eyes and pressed his back to the office wall then leaned against him, needing the stability, needing her feet on the ground as her mind wandered the length of his beautiful body.

Her arms slipped around his neck, and much to her surprise, his arms snaked around her waist as Seamus pulled her flush to his exquisite form. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and Juliet moaned. She felt a rush of embarrassment, which dissipated as Seamus ardently returned her awkward kiss.

He turned her head to make it easier to sweep into her mouth with his tongue. She closed her eyes and focused her mind entirely on the pleasure of kissing the brilliant Seamus.

His lips were supple but insistent, and his tongue glided around her mouth, beckoning her to follow. She did, pursuing him into the very recess of his mouth as she pressed herself more firmly into his arms.

He gave a masculine moan of approval, the sound of which sent a stab of desire that began in her belly before radiating through what was left of her body. Then the kiss intensified and Juliet began to panic, never having felt such passion, such power from a man, from herself.

“I’m sorry.” She pushed away. “I . . .” Juliet made the mistake of looking up at him. “Perhaps the Foreign Office does provide too much temptation.”

And then she realized what she had just said, what she had just admitted.

“Good afternoon,” Juliet mumbled as she left her reticule, her hat, and her winter coat, fleeing out the office door.

“Heading home so soon, Lady Juliet?” Mister Habernathy caught her in the corridor.

“Yes, James.”

“I trust you reconciled matters with Mister McCurren.”

“Oh, yes, we shared everything there was to share and a bit more.”

Much more.

“Glad to hear it.” Mister Habernathy’ s smile was full of relief. “See you tomorrow morning.”

Juliet stilled, wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and die on that very spot.

~

It
was all Seamus could do to wait until the opera’s intermission before walking into the box of the Marquis Shelton, looking for Christian.

“Good evening,” Seamus said as he parted the curtain to the marquis’s coveted box.

Christian was already standing and Ian St. John turned around to see who had been so presumptuous as to invade their privacy.

“Good evening, McCurren,” Christian St. John said, his grin amiable. “Might I introduce to you, Baroness Petrovna?”

“How do you do?” Seamus bowed and the woman inclined her head, no doubt pulled forward by the weight of the enormous diamonds encircling her lovely neck.

“Very well, thank you,” the baroness said, her accented English harsh on the ear.

However, the lady was far from harsh on the eyes. Her strawberry-blond hair was flawless, and her face looked as though it had been painted from a man’s sensual dreams. Seamus had no doubt that the woman knew how to warm a man’s bed, but there was something decidedly cold about the Russian baroness.

“You are acquainted with Shelton and Lady Felicity, of course.” Christian’s jovial voice warmed them all as they exchanged greetings.

Seamus then said to Christian when the niceties were out of the way, “Might I have a word?”

“Certainly.” Christian smiled and then looked at his older brother. “I’ll just go down and have another bottle of champagne sent up, shall I?”

Ian agreed with a nod and they left, diving into the crush of operagoers seeking refreshment.

“So what did you think of her?” Christian asked with wide eyes.

“I like Lady Felicity ver—”

“Not Felicity, you blackguard.” Christian shook his head, irritated. “The baroness?”

“She’s stunning.”

Christian stopped and looked directly at Seamus. “You don’t like her.”

“I saw her for all of five seconds.”

“And in those five seconds you have determined that you dislike her?”

Seamus shrugged, not one to lie. “Aye.”

“A bit cold, don’t you think?”

“Like a Russian winter.”

“Not her, you!” Christian sighed. “She’s fantastic in bed.”

“I’ve no doubt that she is, Christian.”

“You think I should get rid of the lady? My father and brother do,” he mumbled and then grabbed a passing footman and two glasses of champagne. “Would you send a bottle of your best champagne to the box of the Marquis Shelton?”

“Right away, my lord.”

“Now,” Christian turned and looked at Seamus. “As to your problem. What is it and how can I help?”

Seamus looked around and then walked to an empty alcove, drawing the thick velvet curtain. “I kissed Lady Juliet today.”

“You kissed Juliet! Are you stark raving mad?” Christian’s blue-gray eyes gleamed with irritation. “You know how hard we’ve been working to restore her reputation.”

“I know.” Seamus closed his eyes against his guilt. “Perhaps it will ease your sensibilities to know that the lass kissed me first.”

Christian took a step back. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“That little hellion.” Christian was shaking his head. “Juliet has been mad about men for as long as I’ve known her.”

Seamus felt a sharp pain in his chest. “Really?”

“Thank God, most men were too intimidated by the woman to go anywhere near her. But to thrill seekers like Lord Barksdale, Juliet was an irresistible challenge. Still is, no doubt.”

“Yes, I had heard that they were . . . connected,” Seamus said, his voice brittle.

Christian looked up. “Mind you, Barksdale fell hard once they began seeing one another. Absolutely besotted ever since and was truly crushed by the whole Harrington business.”

“Don’t feel sorry for the bastard just yet.” Seamus smirked. “He’s since asked the lady to become his mistress.”

“What?” Christian tightened his grip on his champagne flute and it shattered in his hand. “Damn it all!”

“Here.” Seamus retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket as Christian set the jagged stem on the nearest windowsill.

“Thank you.” Christian wrapped the handkerchief around the gash in his right hand and was looking down when he asked, “Is that why you kissed her, because she was crying about Lord Barksdale? I’ve never been able to deal with a woman’s tears either.”

Seamus laughed. “Oh, Juliet was not crying about Robert Barksdale. She was right furious with the man.”

“Sounds like Juliet, much more capable than most women.” Christian’s grin held a deep affection. “So, why did you kiss her then, Seamus?”

“I don’t know, that is why I’m coming to you. Daniel has been useless, thinks my kissing Juliet Pervill is bloody amusing.”

“You are behaving rather oddly.” Christian nodded. “But why come to me, of all people?”

Seamus gave a frustrated sigh. “I have to see the lass tomorrow, and with the amount of lovers you’ve had, I knew that you would have run into this situation once or twice.”

“Oh, I see.” Christian grinned. “Best thing to do when encountering an old lover is ignore it. Don’t ignore her, just pretend that nothing has happened between you and avoid the subject at all costs.”

“That does not seem a mature way to handle the situation.”

“I find maturity highly overvalued.” The bell rang for the start of the third act and Christian turned his head in the direction of the reverberating noise. He lifted the curtain to the alcove then stopped, looking back at Seamus. “You never did tell me why you kissed Juliet.”

Seamus shook his head. “Proximity?”

Christian laughed. “Good luck, Seamus. But if you do anything more than kiss Juliet Pervill, I will be forced to call you out.”

The curtain fell and Seamus stared at the folds of the shifting chartreuse, unsure if Christian had been jesting.

≈

“Stop picking at your food, Juliet.” Her mother had been ordering the same instruction for as long as she could remember.

Juliet sat up and sighed, making her decision.

“May I ask you both a question?” She looked at her mother and cousin, thankful that her uncle had gone out for the evening.

“Leave us,” the countess told the six footmen posted around the dining room. When the doors had closed and they were alone, her mother stared at her. “What is it you wish to ask, Juliet?”

“In your experience . . .” She spoke to them both as they had far more dealings with men, varied though those dealings may be, but primarily because she was desperate for an answer. “Why would a gentleman who is wealthy, handsome, experienced, and a renowned bachelor kiss an innocent young lady?”

“Someone has kissed you?” Felicity asked, sounding as though she already knew the answer.

“Yes.” My God, was she so easy to read? “The first time I thought he did it to ruffle my feathers, but today—”

“The first time? Today!” The countess was appalled. “This man has kissed you twice?”

“Well, to be fair, I kissed
him
today.”

“You kissed this gentleman today?” Juliet was cut off by the force of her mother’s accusation.

“Yes.” She felt a growing weight in the pit of her stomach when her mother’s demeanor turned flippant.

“We are all clever women.” The countess smiled, pushing her dinner plate forward and placing her elbows on the table, her hands bound together in exaggerated contemplation. “Let us see if we can come up with a reason why a handsome, wealthy, experienced gentleman of the
ton
would welcome the favors of a woman reported to give them away.”

Tears moistened Juliet’s eyes and she glanced at her mother. “I take your point.”

However, Felicity was shaking her head adamantly. “No, Seamus McCurren is a true gentleman. He would never take advantage of an innocent lady.”

Juliet looked across the table, shocked. “How did you know I was referring to Seamus?”

“I sent him up to your sitting room. Remember?”

“Juliet?” Her mother always knew when there was more to any given story. “You allowed this man in your sitting room?”

She turned to face her mother. “I saw Robert Barksdale that morning, and being . . . distraught, I did not feel up to going into the Foreign Office, so Mister McCurren came to me.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Her mother stared at her. “But explain to me how your discussion of matters political turned into his kissing you?”

“I’m not sure.” Lady Pervill raised a brow and Juliet confessed, “Well, perhaps I was a bit more open in my admiration of Mister McCurren’s academic abilities than perhaps I should have—”

“How could you allow a gentleman into your cousin’s room?” Her mother was staring at Felicity, who paled with the weight of responsibility. “You know how much she enjoys them.”

“I don’t ‘enjoy’ men.” Juliet was indignant.

“I am speaking of enjoying them intellectually, not physically, although it sounds as if you are venturing quite willingly into that carnal realm.”

“I . . . Mister McCurren wanted to discuss matters at the Foreign Office so I thought it best, given their positions, that they were given some privacy.” Felicity turned to Juliet, begging forgiveness. “I never would have left you alone with Mister McCurren if I for one moment thought you were in any danger.”

“I wasn’t in any danger. He barely kissed me,” she lied.

“Oh.” Felicity’s eyes went wide. “I thought . . . Well, with his cravat—”

“His cravat?” The countess kept Felicity on point.

“Mister McCurren must have . . .” Felicity blushed. “Retied it upstairs as it was different than when he arrived.”

Juliet dropped her head in her hands, unable to picture a more shameful scenario.

“Well.” The countess held up a glass of wine. “I think we’ve just discovered why a wealthy, handsome bachelor of the
ton
would
continue
to kiss a ruined young lady. A lady we have all been trying so desperately to bring back into favor.”

“Oh, I don’t think Mister McCurren would speak of Juliet’s lapse with anyone,” Felicity assured her aunt.

“You didn’t think the man would kiss an innocent girl either.”

Come to think of it, his kissing her was not very gentlemanly. Even if she wanted him to, he should never have done it.

What if he did mention their encounter to someone? Juliet’s heart sped up. Not that Seamus would intentionally try to ruin all the work her friends had done to restore her reputation.

Oh, God.

“I just . . .” Felicity was still shaking her head, “I just don’t believe Seamus McCurren would take advantage of Juliet.”

“The question, Felicity dear”—her mother took a sip of sherry—“is whether you believe Juliet would take advantage of him.”

≈

“May I speak with Mister McCurren, please?” Juliet smiled prettily at the impressive butler.

“I’m afraid Mister McCurren has retired for the evening.” The man’s demeanor was pleasant and he clearly did not expect his announcement to be challenged.

“Well, resurrect him,” Juliet said, pushing past the flustered man.

“I . . . I’m afraid that that is not possible.” The butler made the mistake of glancing at the first door on his left. “Mister McCurren is unavailable.”

“Really?” Frantic, Juliet walked to the tall mahogany doors and knocked loudly. “Mister McCurren, you will remember me, Lady Juliet Pervill? I very much need to speak with you and fear that I am making your butler very distressed.”

Seamus yanked open the door and smiled caustically. “You do seem to have that effect on people, Lady Juliet.”

McCurren ushered her into his study and only then did she see that he was in his dressing gown. He really had retired? Rather earlier than she would have thought.

“Do you recall coming to my home Monday last?” Juliet asked, cutting to the chase.

“Yes, I seem to recall a thing or two about that visit.” Seamus poured himself a brandy, his broad back to her.

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“Tell anyone what?”

“That you kissed me?” Juliet held her breath, waiting for him to answer.

“I’m surprised you remember.” He smiled charmingly. “You were a bit . . . indisposed at the time. Brandy?”

She blushed and tried to sound convincing when she asked, “Was I?”

“Yes. Scotch, if I recall your preferred poison.” He lifted his snifter to his lips.

“Felicity knows.”

“Knows what?” He shrugged. “That you kissed me in your bedchamber?”

“You kissed me!”

“So you do remember?” He leaned forward as if imparting some great secret. “I was beginning to think I was losing my touch.”

Oh, how Juliet wished to tell him that he was, but even she was not that convincing.

“Felicity noted that you left her home sporting a different style of cravat than when you had arrived. What I would like to know is if anyone else is aware of . . . our encounter.”