A Secret Code Page 2

  “I immediately felt we were kindred spirits when my husband related that, after being rescued, you didn’t have a fit of vapors. Instead, you asked my husband if you could become a secret agent.”

  Joie couldn’t think of a suitable response. She had been instructed by the viscountess’s husband that she must never mention anything to anyone of what had occurred in Rye because of national security.

  The lady’s wide grin helped reassure Joie that she was sincere and not critical of Joie’s actions. Joie didn’t know what a lady’s response should be after being kidnapped, but the sticklers of the ton definitely would consider the need to fight back not at all fitting of a lady of sensitive sensibilities. Joie begged the viscount to be of service after witnessing the evil of the French and their strategy of using women to infiltrate the fabric of British society.

  “Your husband’s only response to my request was that I should meet you.” Joie smiled at the viscountess, whose darkest of eyes gleamed with mischief.

  “Yes, someday I’ll have to tell you about how I helped my husband in his work. Ash, of course, refuses to allow me to be involved now that I’m…” She patted her abdomen.

  “You helped Lord Ashworth? I want to help Reggie. I mean Lieutenant Talley. I had hoped that your husband would assign me to work with the lieutenant. Both men refused to believe I could be of any help. I’m very observant, and people easily trust me.”

  Lady Henrietta seated herself and then gestured to a lady’s chair across from her and the settee. On the table was a tray filled with an assortment of rich cakes, sandwiches, cheeses, meats, and fruit.

  “May I serve you?” The lady leaned forward and lifted the teapot. “Gwyneth was feeling a bit peckish this morning, so I’ve already made her a plate.”

  Lady Gwyneth shifted on the settee, rearranging the pillow under her feet. “I can only eat small amounts. It grows quite tedious, except for Ash tempting me with morsels. It would be all quite diverting if Ash weren’t so worried…”

  Joie lowered her gaze when Lady Gwyneth’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I was never one to cry, but now I burst into tears at regular intervals.” She pulled a handkerchief from her lacy sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.

  Joie was used to talking with her father’s parishioners and the servants about such private matters. But in the lofty homes, there were rules concerning ladies and their confinements, and no one acknowledged or discussed the lady’s condition.

  Lady Henrietta handed Joie a teacup and then filled a small plate for her. “I wanted to offer my deepest apologies. What you have suffered on my account… And without anyone to share what happened. I know that you’ve been instructed never to discuss the details, but I worry that you may be suffering deleterious effects. Are you experiencing nightmares?”

  Joie hadn’t slept well since leaving Rye. Not because of the kidnapping. During the time she was held by the French, she had been frightened, but she’d never doubted Reggie would rescue her. She hadn’t slept because of her three-month separation from Reggie without the ability to communicate. She suffered not knowing how he was faring with his injury and his newest assignment. Despite his injury, Reggie had to return to London to find the mole in the Rathbourne household. Someone had leaked knowledge of Lady Henrietta’s work to the French.

  “But my lady, it wasn’t your fault. It was an unusual circumstance.” Joie hesitated, uncertain of what she should share. Given this opportunity, she wanted to make certain that the women would tell their husbands that Joie was at fault and no blame should be placed on Reggie.

  “But you were an innocent stranded for Christmas and swept into Lieutenant Talley’s dangerous mission,” Lady Henrietta said.

  “Meeting you, I can’t believe he mistook you for either an experienced woman or a French spy.” Lady Gwyneth gave another husky laugh, her voice lilting in amusement.

  “I believe he based his decision to approach me on my choice of clothing and because I was speaking French to my maid. It wasn’t Reggie’s fault. It was a reasonable deduction to make in the country inn where the guests were mainly the local people. My mother was half French, and I’ve inherited her love of fashion and dramatic colors.”

  “I’m glad that you are following your mother’s French flair. Henrietta’s mother was half French, but she has no interest in fashion. I love this shade of violet, almost lilac, for your walking dress.”

  Lady Henrietta gazed up to the ceiling, lost in thought. “What are the mathematical chances of you and Lieutenant Talley meeting? If you hadn’t been sent down as a punishment to your aunt’s, and if I hadn’t cajoled my husband into giving Lieutenant Talley an assignment, then you would never have met.”

  Joie gulped the hot tea, burning her tongue. Her face also burned with embarrassment at the knowledge that these ladies knew of the scandal before Christmas. What a fool she had been to believe that Lord Ayer wanted to show her the blossoming cactus and not compromise her. Was there nothing the ladies didn’t know? They couldn’t possibly know of Reggie’s scalding kisses, could they?

  “Henrietta and I plan to sponsor you in society, helping to stop any further rumors surrounding your incident in the conservatory. With our support, there will be no lingering doubts of your rightful place in society or your courtship by Talley.”

  She was dreading her first appearance and knew that she would not go unscathed by the gossipmongers. How could she possibly convince her father of her capability to make decisions regarding Reggie if tongues were still wagging about her poor choices?

  “I was upset to hear of your father’s rejection of the lieutenant’s offer. I have grown quite fond of Lieutenant Talley.” Lady Henrietta brought her teacup to her lips as if she hadn’t set off fireworks in Joie’s stomach.

  Joie stared at the lady, confounded and at a loss for words, which simply never happened. The crumpet with a thick coating of butter now sat somewhere between her chest and her stomach. She had so many questions she couldn’t ask. First, how did the ladies already know of her father’s refusal when she had only learned of it yesterday? She hadn’t even known that Reggie planned to approach her father until her father had called her into his office and announced that she would be married to Albert Landry at the end of the season and any girlish fantasies about Reggie were to be forgotten. He was a rake who dabbled in the petticoat line. According to her father, Reggie preferred opera dancers over gentle ladies.

  “Hen and I want to give Talley and you every opportunity to continue your courtship in the eyes of the ton. Unfortunately, I won’t be physically present, but I’ve asked for the help of my Aunt Euphemia. She is a force to be reckoned with. Your father doesn’t stand a chance against Aunt Euphemia.” The glint in Lady Gwyneth’s eyes was downright devilish.

  “Cord and I are hosting a ball next week. You must have received your invitation? Since we rarely host society events, it is turning out to be the major occasion of the season, from what I’ve been told. I plan to make your father’s acquaintance, as will Aunt Euphemia.”

  “Yes, and Amelia, Lady Brinsley, was to make certain that you have the perfect gown. She is the inspiration for many of Mademoiselle Elodie’s designs. I do wish I could see Talley’s reaction to you in your new gown. Your choice of colors was bold, or at least that’s what Amelia has told me.”

  Joie had wondered why the modiste had been so adamant that Joie had to have a new ball gown and had agreed to rush it for the Rathbourne ball. These ladies had been working on her behalf. No one had ever cared about her since the death of her mother. She was always the one to take care of her father, the household. The unshed tears forming behind her eyes burned.

  “Once your father sees your and Talley’s acceptance into society, he will be forced to change his mind.” Lady Gwyneth’s eyes sparkled.

  “My father is a difficult man. He wasn’t like this until my mother died…” She hadn’t lost just her mother, but she had also lost her loving father. “I’m so touched”—he
r voice cracked—“by your support. But my father isn’t easily swayed by the opinion of others. He holds his own in the highest esteem. He has forbidden me having any contact with Lieutenant Talley.”

  “Yes, we’re aware of your father’s constrictions.” Lady Henrietta nodded.

  There was a quiet knock on the door. The footman opened the door and saluted when Reggie walked into the room.

  All the air in Joie’s lungs vanished. She stared, frozen.

  “Lady Henrietta—” He halted in the middle of the room when he saw her. He was as shocked as she was.

  “Joie, I mean Miss James.”

  Her senses heightened as time seemed to slow. Lady Gwyneth’s snicker reverberated in her ears, the smell of the Oolong tea more pungent, the sunlight streaming through the windows brighter. Her body was attuned to every nuance of Reggie.

  “Well, for once, I’ve caught you unawares, Lieutenant.” Lady Henrietta laughed, light and easy.

  “Miss James has never been to Rathbourne House and requires a tour of the extensive gardens. My favorite spot for quiet reflection with Cord away from the house is to follow the path to the right. There you will find a private grotto and bench.”

  Joie was captured by his intense stare. She felt the blush spreading across her chest and up her neck from the way Reggie focused solely on her. He hadn’t glanced at either of the other ladies.

  “It would be my pleasure to escort Miss James.” His voice sounded dark and rough, and the way he emphasized “pleasure” caused her skin to bristle in awareness.

  The silence in the room was thick as neither lady spoke to fill in the space. The sound of her breathing echoed loudly.

  Reggie stood over her chair, his strong body looming over her. He was more handsome than she remembered. His eyes were the color of today’s spring sky. His morning coat hugged his massive frame. She knew every ripple and shadow of his chest after caring for him after he had been shot by the French. She hated that they couldn’t be alone now that they had returned to society.

  “No more than twenty minutes, Talley. Miss James’s carriage will arrive to return her home,” Lady Henrietta said.

  Reggie’s eyes gleamed in appreciation at Joie as he offered her his arm. “Yes, my lady. I will make sure that Miss James returns in time.”

  Chapter Three

  Shocked to find Joie in Lady Henrietta’s drawing room, Reggie had gaped like a besotted fool. Joie was radiant in the morning sunlight. Her glossy black curls were tucked into a silly scrap of purple cloth with a plume that fell across her right eyebrow, giving her the look of a dashing pirate.

  His heart sped as every muscle tightened at the nearness of her. In her violet dress, she looked as fresh and promising as the spring bluebells. She was more beautiful and more desirable than any of his nighttime fantasies.

  Her wide black eyes filled with awareness of the need pulsing through him. She stood motionless, caught in the incandescent hunger arcing between them.

  He wanted to lift Lady Henrietta out of her chair and embrace her for arranging this miracle. In the dismal days since Joie’s father rejected his offer, he had been struggling to hatch a plan to gain the archbishop’s approval. Reggie had two desperate choices—miraculously inherit a dukedom or inform her father that Joie had been ruined by their indecorous behavior in Rye. Neither was a good solution. She was a caring daughter and would want her father’s approval. She deserved to be feted and celebrated, not the subject of a scandal and a forced marriage. But seeing her today, he knew he had been lying to himself. He couldn’t watch other men touch her and woo her during the rest of the season. Joie was his since the first time he’d spotted her standing by the fireplace to warm herself.

  He bowed and offered his arm. “Miss James, would you care for a tour of the gardens?”

  When Joie placed her delicate hand on his arm, blood rushed under his skin, igniting a blue flame of want and need.

  Aware of the ladies listening and watching, Reggie silently led Joie out the French door and onto the garden path that circled the expansive estate. Since he had been in charge of the Rathbournes’ security before he became an agent, he knew every inch of the grounds and every possible place for assassins and spies to lurk. He never considered this information would be useful for a dalliance with Joie.

  Neither spoke, not wanting to break the tendrils of excitement and eagerness enveloping them.

  He had to slow his steps as anticipation of finally touching her, kissing her, danced a merry jig in his chest.

  “How is your shoulder? Are you healed?”

  He looked into her eyes, which were filled with tender concern. He could never allow this woman to go to anyone else. Landry and her father’s wishes be damned.

  “I’m all healed because of your care.” Now wasn’t the time to recall her gentle touch on his bare chest and how he’d burned for her ever since. He cleared his throat, forcing every lustful thought into the deepest recesses of his being.

  “How did you fare with your Aunt Eleanor?”

  “I counted the days until I could return to London to see you. I worried that your wound suppurated or that the French spies came after you again.”

  He led her toward the hidden grotto tucked behind the looming laurel hedges. A lone stone bench gave the secluded area an air of dangerous privacy. The late-March weather warmed this cozy corner. His breath quickened in anticipation of having this stolen moment.

  “Was my father horrid to you? I wish there had been some way to warn me of your visit. I would have tried to soften my father.”

  “I couldn’t call on you or write to you until I had declared my intentions. I wanted to be clear to your father that nothing untoward happened in Rye. I didn’t want you to come under any censure for our unusual meeting.”

  He placed his hand on top of hers. Her vitality glimmered in the sunlight like the daffodils that lined the walk. The dismay and hopelessness that he couldn’t openly court her had vanished in her presence. “Nothing you could have said to him would have convinced your father to approve of me. He wants a prestigious son-in-law, not a soldier with no promise of social recognition.”

  “I’m aware of my father’s opinion on the subject. He has forbidden me to have any contact with you. And I’m to marry Albert Landry.”

  He clenched his fists at his side, trying to hide his jealousy and anger that Joie hadn’t told him of her close association with Landry. “Why didn’t you tell me in Rye of your arrangement with Landry? I would never have…”

  She stopped in the path and glared at him. “You believe that I would…with you…when I was engaged to another man? That I would fail to share this detail with you?”

  “Your father said it’s been an arrangement for years. Surely you knew.”

  “Do you think so little of my character?”

  She gave a mirthless laugh, a sound that he had never before heard from his joyous Joie.

  “Of course not.” He hadn’t thought she was the type of woman to play games. But with no ability to talk with her, to see her, his doubt grew. He lay awake, imagining Joie in Landry’s arms, responding to his kisses as she had passionately responded to his.

  “Albert is like an older brother to me. His father’s estate borders ours, and I was friends with his younger sister. He is the son my father always wanted. My father demanded that I be educated as if I were a boy. When Albert showed interest in my studies, we were tutored together for a while, my father supervising Albert’s education to prepare him to achieve the ecclesiastical success befitting an earl’s second son. My father has ambitious plans for Albert, but I never knew that I was to be sacrificed.”

  “You never made the connection that your father would have his perfect son by marriage to his daughter?”

  “Maybe your father treats his daughters differently than mine, but my father would never take into account my feelings about his plans for my future. I’m to be bound by whatever his wishes may be.”

  “You’r
e right. My father is much the same. The wishes of his daughters—or his sons—have never crossed the general’s mind.”

  “I was educated like his son not because my father saw me as worthy of my own thoughts, but because my father was lonely and wanted someone with whom to discuss his interests over dinner. He told me that my husband would thank him one day for broadening my perspectives.”

  “I’m still struggling that you never mentioned Albert.” He tried but knew he failed to hide the hard edge of betrayal in his tone. She and Albert had a longstanding relationship. They had spent years together building a friendship, whereas he and Joie had enjoyed exciting, dangerous moments in Rye. Joie was a dutiful daughter, and her father esteemed Albert. How long before she would acquiesce to her father’s wishes?

  “Like you never shared your penchant for opera dancers? My father was aware of your interest in a certain kind of woman over the ladies of the ton. Have you allowed one of your”—she waved her hand in the air—“since Rye?”

  Her skin flushed, her eyes flashing with anger; she was all fire and heat, and the perfect woman for him.

  “Those women meant nothing to me. I spent time with them over the so-called ladies of the ton because they didn’t care about my position in society. I hated the façade of pretending to care when it’s strictly a business transaction. I don’t blame the young women. They are doing what their families expect them to do to make a favorable match. I just didn’t want to participate.”

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I’ve no interest in opera dancers now that I’ve met you.” He pressed a kiss to her palm. “You’re so unlike the other women of the ton. You actually care about someone other than yourself.”