The King's Code (The Lady Spies Series #3): A Regency Historical Romance (13 page)

Seamus raised his left brow at her decidedly accusing tone. “Ask me politely and perhaps I’ll tell you.”

“Perhaps?” Juliet cast him a withering glare. “I am attempting to rebuild my reputation!”

“Then, my dear Juliet, I suggest you refrain from kissing men in your bedchamber.” His golden eyes met hers, void of remorse.

“You kissed me!” She was furious.

“And you liked it well enough to remove my cravat.”

As Seamus continued to stare at her, she remembered just how much.

“As you’ve said”—she blinked—“I was ‘indisposed.’”

“After yesterday’s lapse . . .” He smiled. “I’m beginning to wonder if you had taken a single sip.”

“Well, I had. Loads, in fact,” she lied.

He sipped his brandy. “And yesterday?”

“The excitement of discovery.” She shrugged the kiss off. “Like you kissing me for my books. My God, it’s boiling in here,” she said, desperate to change the subject and he let her.

“I’m afraid I was not expecting company.”

Juliet glanced at his silk dressing gown and his partially exposed chest.

“Yes, I can see that. So, if you will just tell me if you told anyone of our . . .” Juliet looked away from his perceptive gaze. “Lapse, then I shall be on my way and you can get back to . . .”
Lounging in your study nude.
“Reading.”

Seamus grinned, both of them knowing this was as close as she had ever come to a man in his altogether. For all she knew, he had a widow waiting in the next room, eager to take Seamus to bed.

“You’re just angry that Felicity found out about your . . .lapse.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she protested, knowing that this man was anything but. “Have you told anyone that you took advantage of me?”

Seamus burst into laughter and then walked to his chair, sitting as she followed. “I took about as much advantage of you in your home as I did yesterday.”

She gasped and would have defended herself, but all thoughts vanished when Seamus’s silk robe slid a good four inches away from his right thigh as he set his feet atop the black ottoman.

Juliet stared, never having seen a man’s bare leg, so long and powerful, so utterly beautiful . . . and hairy. But for some inexplicable reason that was rather nice, too.

Wait, he was saying something.

“What do you mean?” she asked, having no clue what they had been discussing. Her mind entirely focused on the thought of running her hands down his muscular thigh, wondering what the dark hair would feel like against her skin, her body.

“We both know that you wanted to kiss me yesterday.” He finished his brandy and she watched the cords of masculine muscle surrounding his neck as he swallowed.

“Do stop messing about, Seamus,” she said, less forcefully then she had hoped. “Did you tell anyone about our . . .” she conceded as he rose. “Indiscretion?”

“You mean, about our
indiscretions
?” he said, looking down at her with that amused grin that turned her brain to mush.

“Stop it, Seamus.”

“Stop what?” He shrugged, drawing her attention to his beautiful broad shoulders.

Juliet closed her eyes and the heat in the room became oppressive as she felt him standing mere inches in front of her, around her.

Seamus repeated his stipulation.

“Ask me nicely.” His voice fell over her like a silken sheet.

She was becoming light-headed, and in the interest of self-preservation, Juliet acquiesced to his demand.

“Very well. Please,” she breathed, “tell me if anyone else . . .” She tilted her head back and looked him in the eye. “Knows that I . . .”

“Kissed me,” he whispered, his head bent, his breath on her lips.

“Yes,” she hoped she said before standing on her tiptoes and kissing him again.

Juliet placed her hand on his bare chest as he pulled her flush against his powerful body.

With half of her mind on the moist heat of his mouth, she allowed the other half to explore his exceptional body. Her hands slid around his ribs and then descended down the silk covering his muscular back. The subtle curve of his taut backside was irresistible, and Juliet could not help giving him a squeeze as she pulled him closer.

He moaned and it was then that Juliet felt his hardening length against her belly. Her nipples tightened to sensitive peaks and the feel of his heavy chest moving against her breasts was wonderful. She closed her eyes as they continued to kiss and she felt her passion gathering momentum between her thighs.

All the mental restrictions drilled into ladies of the
ton
disappeared when Juliet suddenly remembered—

She was a ruined woman.

Juliet reached up and grasped the burgundy silk around Seamus’s shoulders and yanked the robe from his enticing body.

Seamus stared down at her in complete shock and then smiled with a seductive heat in his eyes, asking, “Disappointed?”

Breathing heavily, her eyes scanned the muscled curves of his chest, noting his nipples so deliciously different from her own. She bit the side of her lip, looking lower at the lines that crisscrossed his flat belly, at the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath . . .
Damn!
His drawers.

“Yes,” she said truthfully. Seamus threw his head back and roared with laughter, causing her to blush.

“Well, lass, I would not want you to leave my home unsatisfied.” Juliet watched his hand go to the drawstring of his drawers before she closed her eyes, humiliated that she wanted very much to see more of him.

“I’m so sorry to have disturbed you,” Juliet whispered on the verge of tears, sure that this was quite amusing for a man of Seamus McCurren’s ilk.

She turned, rushing toward the study door, but it would not open, and then she felt his heat against her back.

“I’m sorry, Juliet,” he breathed in her ear. “I was just teasin’, lass.”

His lips pressed against her neck and then Juliet did cry, overwhelmed with her want of him.

“Despite what you may have heard, Mister McCurren, I have no experience with such . . . games. Good night.”

Seamus let her go, knowing now was not the time. There never would be a time for them. Juliet was an innocent, as overcome by her awakening sensuality as was he. When she had ripped his robe from his body, Seamus had very nearly done the same to her gown.

He was still shaking from the need to make love to her and he knew that something had to be done. He could not go on like this, working side by side, all the while wanting something he could not have.

“William,” Seamus shouted to his butler as he opened the study door. “You are never to allow that woman in my home again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Now, if he could just keep her out of his office.

≈

A hairy little Welshman clung to the warmth of the brick walls across the street from the house he had been paid to watch. He snuffled and reached for his gin, taking a small swig then putting the half-empty bottle back in his overstuffed pocket. The man took out a scrap of paper and a pencil and huddled under the lamppost so that he could note the time.

Mister McCurren had arrived home late from Whitehall. What the hell Seamus McCurren did at Whitehall he had no notion, nor did he care. He and his brother were being paid to watch the fancy and nothing more.

The job had been a right bore until the lady arrived. She was young, fresh, and angry when she pushed her way into McCurren’s home. She hadn’t stayed long, and by the look on her face when he watched the lady being helped into her carriage, she had left more troubled than when she had arrived.

“Who’s the woman?” He saw his brother’s pipe burning on a slow draw before he saw his ugly face.

“Don’t know. First time I’ve seen her.” He looked his brother in the eye. “I’ll follow the lady. You stay here and watch McCurren,” he suggested, his elbow aching at the first sign of a freeze. “Did you bring some blankets? It’s gonna get cold tonight.”

“Never you mind about me.” His brother smiled around the bone of his ever-present pipe. “Just remember that you’ll be the one freezing tomorrow night.”

“True,” he chuckled, rubbing salt into his brother’s wound. “But tonight I’ll have a warm bed at Dante’s and an even warmer whore.”

“As long as you get me money from Mister Collin, I don’t give a damn what you do with your evening.”

“Don’t forget to write down everything McCurren does.” He jerked his head toward the fancy’s house. “And the time he does it.”

The Welshman jumped atop his horse as the lady’s carriage rolled forward.

“I have done this before, you know,” his brother said, looking up at him.

“Not for these people you haven’t.”

The brothers stared at one another, aware of the consequences for failing people such as these.

~

“
I’m
afraid that I am no longer able to work with Lady Juliet and am therefore forced to resign my commission at the Foreign Office.”

“Resign?” Falcon stared at Seamus McCurren, who had sought him out at his home.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He nodded. “Now that the Foreign Office has commissioned a cryptographer as capable as Juliet Pervill, I feel comfortable in returning to my prior research.”

Falcon was by now familiar enough with Seamus to know that something else was bothering the man. “Has the lady—”

“It really has nothing to do with Lady Juliet, I assure you.” McCurren looked at him with regret. “Rather the fact that I prefer . . . That is to say, I am far more effective when working in solitude.”

“Ah, so you have not found the lady’s insight . . . useful?” Falcon watched the boy carefully for insight of his own.

“Quite the contrary, the lady is eminently qualified to decrypt French code. I just find it difficult to concentrate when . . .”

Falcon watched the scholar search for the proper word.

“Challenged?” he suggested helpfully.

The poor lad jerked his head back to look at him then blinked several times before he could manage, “No! No, not at all. I merely find it difficult to concentrate when a variety of methods are being applied to the information gathered by this office.”

The boy had a point, he supposed.

“Mmm,” Falcon mused. “You know, I often have this difficulty with the gentlemen in my employ.”

“What difficulty is that?” McCurren appeared truly perplexed.

“When I hire a new man, my agents inevitably feel . . . threatened, feel that I find the work they are doing somehow lacking.”

McCurren’s dark brows pulled over his golden eyes, and Falcon could see that he was mulling over the never before-considered possibility of his feeling threatened.

“No,” Seamus concluded. “I do not believe that to be the difficulty in this particular situation.”

“Which implies that you do know what the difficulty might be?” McCurren held his eyes and in the complex depths Falcon found the answer. “Perhaps the difficulty is that you are unaccustomed to working with women?”

“Yes.” The man’s tense shoulders were eased by relief. “As I’ve said, I concentrate much more effectively when working . . . in solitude.”

“You seem to concentrate quite well with the assistance of Mister Habernathy.”

“Quite true.” Seamus glanced down, clearly embarrassed, and Falcon felt a twinge of guilt. “And I am quite sure that Lady Juliet Pervill will work with Mister Habernathy equally well.”

“Thank you for informing me of your intention to resign in person.” Falcon took pity on the lad. “I shall speak with Lady Juliet first thing tomorrow morning and inform her of the new arrangement.”

“Thank you, my lord. It has been an honor working with you,” Seamus said, leaving Falcon to wonder what would become of the brilliant Juliet Pervill when he dismissed her from his employ.

≈

Juliet arrived at the Foreign Office at ten o’clock and, as she walked toward her office, told herself repeatedly to pretend as though nothing happened last night between her and Seamus.

To pretend that he had not kissed her . . . or rather that she had not kissed him, to behave as though she had not ripped his dressing gown from that magnificent bod—

“Morning, James.” She forced a smile and then swept into the inner office.

“Morning, Lady Juliet,” Mister Habernathy called after her.

But she stopped cold when she saw that the large Scot was not there. “Has Mister McCurren come in today?”

“No, Mister McCurren has yet to arrive.” He looked up then shook his head, smiling. “Perhaps he is out making inquiries?”

“Oh, excellent,” Juliet said, being the coward that she was. “Then we are sure to make some progress today.”

“Undoubtedly,” James agreed, always the optimist. “Also, his lordship wished a word with you the moment you arrived in the office.”

“All right.” Juliet removed her reticule and pelisse. “While I’m gone, would you be so kind as to brew me some coffee?”

She had not slept well.

“Certainly.”

Juliet made her way down the maze of halls, wondering why in the world the old man had chosen such a tiny office. Surely, his position within the Foreign Office required more room, if not recognition.

“Good morning,” Juliet said to Falcon’s pleasant assistant. “Is his lordship available?”

The man did not quite meet her eye. “Yes, he is awaiting you, as a matter of fact.”

“Thank you,” Juliet said simply, not wanting to disturb the gentleman further.

She walked to the door of his lordship’s inner sanctum and knocked. The old man cleared his throat and called, “Come in.”

Juliet smiled politely at Falcon’s secretary, but when she met his eye, the man dropped his gaze. Confused, she pushed open his lordship’s door, her attention focused entirely on the old man himself.

“You wanted to speak with me, my lord?”

“Yes, Lady Juliet.” Falcon took a shaky moment to rise to his feet and then swept his hand over the set of familiar chairs in front of him. “Please, have a seat.”

Juliet’s brows furrowed, sensing that it was Falcon who would be handing out the information today, not the other way round.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the same seat that she had the last time she had been in his office . . . with Seamus McCurren.

His lordship smiled and Juliet felt an immediate foreboding, which was confirmed when he began by saying, “Lady Juliet, your work with the Foreign Office over the past several weeks has been quite commendable.”

“I am so glad that you think so.” She stared at him, wary.

“However . . .” Juliet started to panic. “I’m afraid that your continued presence at the Foreign Office is no longer possible.”

“You disappoint me, my lord.” Her chin quivered and she bit her bottom lip to stop it from shaking. “I would have thought you of all people able to deal with having a woman of questionable reputation in your employ.”

“That is unwarranted, Juliet,” the old man admonished. “If it were up to me, you would still—”

“If it is not up to you, your lordship, then who the bloody hell is it up to?”

She was near to crying now, not sure what she would do if she did not have the Foreign Office to come to every day.

The old man ignored her outburst.

“I was forced to make a decision.” Falcon looked at her with great regret. “Seamus McCurren has resigned his commission at the Foreign Office if you continue on, and I cannot afford to lose you both.”

“Then lose him!” Juliet shouted, her hand thrust upward as if by her logic. “Accept his resignation and keep me on as sole cryptographer.”

Falcon shook his head, denying her. “That is impractical, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” Juliet demanded, furious. “Because I am a woman?”

“Yes.” The old man nodded, unrepentant. “You have been a distraction for several gentlemen at the Foreign Office but that is not the only reason you are being dismissed.”

“Is Mister McCurren a better cryptographer than I?” Tears flowed so freely down her cheeks that Juliet did not even try to stop them.

“No,” the old man admitted. “Mister McCurren offers different talents than you do, my dear. However, Seamus has been with the office longer and he is, as you so correctly point out, male.”

“But why would he resign from—”

But before the words came out of her mouth, Juliet knew.

“Mister McCurren says that you are a distraction to his work.”

Juliet nodded. It was true—she had kissed him several times, and last night . . . last night she had practically assaulted him. The poor man was probably protecting his virtue from such a wanton woman.

“I understand,” Juliet whispered, rising. “I’ll just gather my things.”
And my dignity.
“Thank you so very much . . .” She began to cry again and then forced herself to look her former employer in the eye. “For the opportunity that you have given me, your lordship.”

“No, my dear.” Falcon took her hand in both of his. “Thank you for the work that you have done for us . . . for Britain.”

Juliet nodded, unable to speak, and then she left the old man’s office for the last time.

“It has been an honor,” his secretary said as she left, finally meeting her eye. “Working with you, Lady Juliet.”

“Thank you.” Her tears started up again and she pressed her gloved fingers to the corners of her eyes to quail them.

Juliet opened the door and stepped into the corridors of the Foreign Office, praying that no one noticed the redness of her nose. She arrived at their outer office, but it was empty, and she took a deep breath before opening the inner-office door.

“I’ve brought your coffee, my lady,” James said, setting the steaming cup on her messy desk.

“Might I take it with me?” she asked, and hearing her distress, James Habernathy turned around.

“Take it with you?” The secretary handed her his handkerchief.

“I’ve been dismissed.”

“You have not.” He said the words as if they could change the outcome.

“Yes, I have.” Juliet nodded, relieved that she was not the only person who thought her dismissal a shock and entirely unwarranted, not to mention unfair.

“They would not dare dismiss you after all you have done with the E code.” Mister Habernathy was indignant. “What on earth is his lordship thinking?”

Juliet walked to her chair and yanked on her pelisse, furious. “It was not his lordship who had me dismissed.”

“Who else even knows you collaborate with the Foreign Office?”

Juliet raised a brow and Mister Habernathy looked at Seamus’s desk, gasping. “He did not.”

“He did! Sort of.” Juliet slipped her reticule on her wrist and then began gathering her books from atop the desk. “He told his lordship that he would resign his post if I continued on.”

“Why would Mister McCurren do such a horrible thing? You were making such progress.”

Juliet shrugged as if she did not know, and the books in her arms started to fall to the side. “Ask Mister McCurren.”

“Oh, do let me pack your things for you, Lady Juliet,” Mister Habernathy offered, so gently that she just nodded. “Send them to Lady Felicity Appleton’s home, if you please, and thank you for everything, James. It has been a pleasure working with you.”

Mister Habernathy smiled and Juliet walked to the door, glancing back at her secretary and then at Seamus McCurren’s very empty desk.