The Secret Christmas Ciphers (5 page)

Abigail bit her lip. “I didn’t know he was coming, and I don’t know why he’s here.”

A tiny frown touched Catherine’s brow. “There’s something suspicious going on with him. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Of course I’ve noticed. I may be naïve but I’m not stupid. Do you have any ideas?”

“None, I’m afraid. You’ll be sharing a chamber with him tonight. Surely you can entice him to talk.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Oh really, Abigail. Didn’t you listen to anything the twins or I told you about men?”

Abigail grimaced. “Actually, I tried
not
to listen. Can you give me a few hints?”

“Use your imagination. Wear a thin night rail and stand in front of the fire so he can see the outline of your body. Pretend to stretch, but while doing so, thrust your breasts out so he can’t help but notice. Surely you can manage some simple enticements such as those.”

“I suppose I could but I have no intention of doing so.”

Catherine dropped her voice to a whisper. “Really, I promise that you wouldn’t regret it. I suspect Derek would be a very good lover.”

Abigail felt another blush warming her face just as Derek approached with her drink.

He frowned as he handed her the glass. “You still appear flushed. Are you certain you don’t wish to step out on the balcony to cool off?”

Abigail took a few swallows of the tepid liquid. “Thank you, but I’m fine, really. Besides, I see the duchess motioning to us and the orchestra is striking up a waltz. I think this is supposed to be the dance she promised to arrange for us.”

Derek took the glass from her hand and passed it off to a servant. “I’m sure you’re right.” He flashed a smile, then bowed. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Abigail’s pulse spiked. Heavens, but her husband was handsome when he smiled. She just wished he would explain why he’d betrayed her. If he could make her understand, perhaps she could forgive him. But in the meantime, she must remember that they were in the middle of a ballroom and their actions were being observed by dozens of people. She curtsied and returned his smile. “I’d be delighted, my lord.”

They stepped onto the dance floor. Abigail placed her left hand on Derek’s shoulder. He placed his right hand at her waist. They joined hands and gazed into each other’s eyes as the first notes swept across the ballroom floor.

Abigail had waltzed before but not with anyone who possessed Derek’s skill. He guided her with seemingly effortless grace, and she longed to lose herself in the joy of being in his arms. She could not help but pray that someday he would explain his actions in relation to poor Melonnie and that when that day came, she and Derek could have a normal marriage.

In the meantime, she wished he would explain these unusually frequent trips to London. He hadn’t been with his regiment very long. Perhaps he was being used as a messenger, but if that was the case, why couldn’t he just say so?

She glanced into his face and saw that a frown was forming on his brow. In addition, he was regarding her through slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re unusually quiet, my lady. Is something on your mind?”

“I was just wondering how long you’ll be staying in London this trip.”

His frown deepened. “I wasn’t aware that my movements were of such interest to you, my lady.”

She set her teeth. “Well, of course they’re of interest to me, my dear husband, especially when you fail to keep your word to me. Again.”

Fortunately, the dance was coming to an end. The last note sounded, and Derek immediately released her, as though she’d grown too hot to touch.

Or too disagreeable perhaps.

In either case, she felt the absence of his touch like an ache that traveled down the back of her throat into her stomach, ending as a burning lump in her gut.

“I’ll escort you to your companion,” he said with cool formality. “You’ll wish to return home with her and Catherine in my father’s coach. I have other functions I must attend.”

“Functions?” The word slipped out before Abigail realized she was about to speak. She was not surprised when Derek paused to regard her with an expression of hauteur that clearly indicated his opinion that his activities were none of her business.

She compounded her error by beginning to babble. “Well, of course you have functions requiring your attention. I mean, obviously, you have duties. Duties related to your regiment. I’m sure that’s why you’re in London. The duties, I mean. To your regiment.”

She stumbled to a stop as blood rushed to her face. Derek continued to stare at her with a horrid twinkle in his eyes that suggested he found her gaucheness amusing.

Amusing!

She was deeply insulted. And furious! And determined to make him feel as uncomfortable as she felt this very instant. Surely he would be forced to return to the town house sometime this evening to sleep, and then he would be faced with a woman—his wife—who would do all in her power to make him wish he had not found her amusing.

Chapter Four

The evening was far advanced before the ball ended and the earl’s party returned to the town house. Cousin Parsetta immediately excused herself to go to bed, as did the earl and Catherine. Abigail tried to catch Catherine’s eye, hoping they could talk a few minutes. Although ordinarily Catherine would have insisted on visiting with Abigail long enough to relive every minute of the ball, tonight she hurried on down the corridor and disappeared into her bedchamber.

Sighing, Abigail entered her own chamber. Her maid was already there, waiting to help her out of her ball gown and into her nightclothes. A fire burned brightly in the hearth, but its cheerful glow did nothing to lighten Abigail’s mood.

She now feared that Derek was engaged in something out of the ordinary, something that was possibly dangerous. Military men did not spend their time running back and forth between their regiment and London unless they were involved in activities that were unrelated to preparing for battle.

Abigail realized it would do her no good to quiz him about his activities. But the more she thought about it, the more she feared that whatever he was doing might well place him in danger.

Although she was still irritated with him, her anger was waning as her concern burgeoned. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Two o’clock. She dismissed her maid, then settled down in a wingback chair in front of the fire to consider the future of her marriage.

Although she was still hurt that Derek had refused to explain why he’d proposed to Melonnie, she was growing more and more convinced that he must have had a good reason, perhaps one that he would someday share with her. If he lived to do so. But what if he did not survive the war? If that should happen to be the case, she would always wish that they had been man and wife in every way. After all, if she didn’t give him an heir, the title would pass to a distant cousin who was universally disliked in the family.

The fire was dying down by the time Abigail decided what she wanted to do. She was going to seduce her husband.

She took a deep breath, gave a vigorous nod, and stared into the slowly flickering flames while trying to decide on the order of the steps that would be required. She briefly considered removing her long-sleeved, high-necked night rail and wrapping herself, naked, in a blanket so she could easily unwrap herself when Derek came into the bedchamber, but this mental image brought blood rushing to her cheeks.

Sighing in disgust at her timidity, she pulled her cold feet up in the chair with her and tucked them under her long nightgown. Her first step, obviously, was to stay awake and wait for Derek to return.

Then she would tell him straight out that she wanted him to make love to her. She wasn’t concerned that he would turn her down. After all, he was a man, and the sisters had told her over and over again about how easily men were controlled by their passions.

Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to return to the town house this evening. She leaned her head back in the chair and closed her eyes. She would rest just a few minutes, she decided, convinced that she would awaken immediately when Derek entered their chamber.

* * *

When Derek finally arrived home, the candle that had been left burning in the entrance hall for him was sputtering in its holder. Grabbing another that sat next to it on the table, he quickly held the wick to the dying flame and managed to light the second before the first went out.

He sighed in relief. As tired as he was, he was glad he wouldn’t have to feel his way along the corridor wall until he could locate the library and light a candle from the fire there.

He briefly considered making his way to the library anyway. A nice decanter of brandy was always left sitting on the sideboard, but he was afraid if he downed even one glass, he’d sleep too deeply tonight, and he had to return to his regiment in the morning.

On the other hand, perhaps he’d be better off spending the night in the library anyway. If he made his way to the bedchamber he shared with Abigail, he would have to dredge up the willpower to subdue the desire he always felt in her presence. Thank god she’d be in bed asleep at this late hour. Perhaps he’d just make up a nice pallet in the floor in front of the hearth and try to pretend she wasn’t in the room with him.

That would be easy enough surely. He wouldn’t allow himself to think of her dark hair spread out in an alluring fan on the pillow or of her night rail twisted around her torso. He wouldn’t allow himself to imagine the gown bunched up around her hips and her long shapely legs stretched out under the covers.

And he certainly wouldn’t visualize the soft feather mattress cupping her firm hips or her soft belly and the—

“Dear god,” he muttered to himself, pausing on the landing halfway up the stairs. The litany of images he planned to avoid visualizing had resulted in an arousal so strong, his head began to swim.

He took a deep breath, consciously forcing his thoughts to other subjects. Tonight’s assignment after he left the ball had been more challenging than usual, he reminded himself, trying to think of anything except Abigail lying in the bed upstairs. The French ciphers were becoming more sophisticated, and the effort required to decode them was definitely more time-consuming.

Although Derek had longed for years to join a regiment, the officials in the War Office had insisted that he work as a civilian, assuring him that his talents were less likely to be exposed as long as he pretended to be interested in pleasure rather than in the war effort.

The years he’d spent in London playing the part of a wastrel had allowed him to fulfill two roles. He’d been available on a few occasions to travel abroad to seek information that was dangerous to possess but of great significance to the war effort. But mostly he was kept in London because of his deciphering skills.

Then, when the increasing frequency of ciphers being intercepted made the logistics more complicated, his contact in the War Office suggested Derek join a regiment. He had happily agreed but was now discovering that being with a regiment merely complicated his life. Although he could generally decode all intercepted ciphers by himself, he still had to travel to London to turn them over to his superiors. And occasionally the ciphers were so complicated that he had to seek help from his father, who was just as adept at decoding as Derek himself. The two of them had been holed up in a secret location tonight working on two especially challenging ciphers. When they’d finished, his father had insisted on delivering them so Derek could get some rest before leaving the next morning to return to his regiment.

That’s what he had been doing after leaving Abigail at the ball. Now, tired and increasingly irritated with his stubborn desires, he continued up the stairs and eased open the door to his bedchamber. A few flames in the fireplace still cast a dim light about the room. He stepped inside and looked toward the bed, expecting to see a lump under the covers.

When he did not, he wondered briefly if Abigail had chosen to sleep in another chamber. But no, she had too much pride to let the servants know she wasn’t sharing a bed with her husband.

A slight noise called his attention to the wingback chair situated in front of the fireplace. The chair was angled with its back toward the door, but Derek could make out what appeared to be the edge of a night rail peeking around the bottom corner. Surely the silly girl hadn’t avoided the bed simply because she was expecting him to return.

He eased across the room until he stood in front of the chair. Sure enough, Abigail sat slumped against the corner formed by the protruding wing on the right-hand side. Her feet were drawn up under her gown, and her arms were wrapped around each other as though for warmth. Her even breathing suggested that she still slept soundly.

Shaking his head, he walked over to the bed, placed his candle on the bedside table, and turned the covers back. Then he walked back to the chair, scooped Abigail up in his arms, and carried her to the bed.

Her eyes flickered open as he gently placed her on the soft feather mattress. “Derek?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

“You were expecting someone else?”

Her eyes opened wider and she tried to push herself up in bed, then dropped back down. “I was trying to wait up for you.”

“Sorry I’m so late then. What did you want?”

Her eyes slipped closed, and her voice was so soft as to be barely audible. “I wanted you to make love to me.”

Derek had trouble believing he’d heard correctly. “What did you say?” He touched Abigail’s shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. Be damned if he’d let her go back to sleep without either repeating what she’d just said or denying that she’d said it.

She opened her eyes again and grimaced. “You probably don’t want to. And that’s all right. You don’t have to.”

He set his teeth. “Don’t have to what, Abigail? What is it that you want?”

She bit her lip and turned her head on the pillow so he could no longer look into her eyes. “You’re probably tired anyway,” she murmured. But then she turned back toward him and it so happened that her gaze was at the exact level of his groin. When her eyes widened, he knew she’d seen his erection pressing against his trousers.