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

by Samantha Saxon

  “And was Seamus McCurren getting boring?” her mother asked, still suspicious.

  “No,” Juliet said, in too good of a mood to be bothered by the reference to her kissing Seamus. “Just insufferable.”

  “Oh, I quite like Mister McCurren,” Felicity said to the room, adding, “He is a bit dark, though. I seem never quite able to determine what he is thinking.”

  “Yes, dark, brooding, and mysterious is loads of fun, Felicity,” Juliet quipped. “No, I would much prefer a gentleman as easy to interpret as Christian St. John.”

  “Christian?” Felicity asked, “I’d no idea of your interest in him.”

  “Nor I.” Her mother met Juliet’s eye, knowing damn well that she was not interested in Christian St. John.

  “Yes, well, something to think about if I get desperate for a husband.” Juliet sighed. “Somehow I don’t think Christian would mind if his wife were ruined. In many ways, I think he would prefer it.”

  “Oh, my darlings.” The countess grinned at their naïveté. “Don’t be fooled into thinking that what a gentleman says he wants is what he really desires. It is true the majority of the time. I grant you, but not when it comes to women, nor children for that matter.”

  “This is a pointless conversation.” Juliet shook her head. “As no gentleman bar Christian would marry me.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Felicity raised both delicate brows. “There will be many eligible bachelors at Lady Dunloch’ s ball, which we have all been invited to attend.”

  “Oh, how lovely.” Her mother took a sip of tea. “It will be the perfect opportunity to further your cause.”

  “And another perfect opportunity for me to look a desperate fool.”

  “That is not at all true, Juliet.” Felicity shook her head. “All the ladies of my acquaintance do not believe for one moment that Lord Harrington . . .” Felicity blushed.

  “Dishonored you,” Lady Pervill finished, coming to her niece’s aid.

  “Felicity, none of the gossips are going to gossip to you, now are they?” Juliet argued.

  “No, I think Felicity is correct. None of my friends believe the charge either and they would most certainly gossip to me or rather they would hound me until I told them the truth of the matter.”

  Juliet smiled, seeing a ray of sunshine behind the dark clouds of her ruination. “Perhaps in a few weeks this will all be behind us.”

  And in the meantime, she would dedicate every waking hour to breaking the E code before Seamus bloody McCurren.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ~

  Madame Richard sat at her desk eating an apple as she read the morning newspapers. She read the papers in the quiet hours of the mornings while her whores still slept and before the afternoon customers began to arrive.

  This was her time to be alone, to think, to plan her future. She had amassed quite a large fortune and was beginning to feel the itch to move on, but not just yet.

  She still had unfinished business in London.

  And increasingly that unfinished business took on the stunning appearance of Seamus McCurren. She stared at the pages of the newspaper and pictured the one man in all of England with the ability to match her, best her mind.

  No doubt, that was why she lingered in London longer than she should, to be bested by a man as capable and alluring as Seamus McCurren.

  Enigma turned to the second page of the London Times and skimmed the article she had written to verify that her marker had appeared as scheduled. But as she continued to read the innocuous commentary, Enigma rose to her feet, furious with what she saw.

  “Collin!” she shouted, and hearing her anger, her bodyguard quickly opened the door. Enigma looked up at the man, forcing her temper beneath her smile. “Have a seat, Mister Collin.”

  He did as he was told and she walked to his side dropping the newspaper atop his large lap.

  “Mister Collin,” she began softly, “did you deliver the article I wrote to the Times last week as I requested?”

  “Yes.” He nodded warily. “I delivered it exactly as I always do. Was there a problem?”

  Enigma pulled a dagger from the sheath on her right ankle as she stared down at the man. “How many markers were to appear in the article?”

  Mister Collin’s forehead creased with confusion. “One marker, same as always.”

  “Mmm.” She tapped her chin with the fingers of her left hand. “One. Yes, that’s right. One marker. But shall we count the number of times that an E actually appears in the article I entrusted to you?”

  “Yes.” Mister Collin nodded, knowing there was no other possible answer.

  “One.” Enigma stabbed at the first E with the tip of her dagger and he grunted as the knife pierced his right thigh. “Two.” She stabbed again. “Three,” she whispered in his ear before the dagger dropped. “Four.” She jabbed. “Five, six.” She let the sixth linger in his leg, the newspaper crinkling as she moved it from side to side. “Now, how many markers were scheduled to appear in the article?”

  “One,” her bodyguard said, his teeth clenched in pain.

  “And how many markers did appear?”

  “Six.”

  She removed her dagger from his thigh and pressed her breasts against his back.

  “How do you suppose Napoleon’s currier will retrieve all that lovely information I have worked so diligently to gather if he does not know where to go to get it?”

  “He can’t retrieve it.” Collin breathed through the sting of his wounds, crimson slits turning his brown trousers black.

  “That’s right, he can’t retrieve the information, which means that I . . .” she ground out. “Will not receive all that lovely money the French pay me.”

  “I’ll go to the London Times straight away and have a little talk with the man who—”

  “Damn right you’ll find out who is interfering with my code.” She walked in front of him, dragging her index finger along his shoulder as she did. “But first, I’m afraid you will have to be punished.”

  “Yes, Madame Richard,” he said. Enigma knew just where to hit him.

  “Now, call Mister Youngblood to my office, will you.”

  Jack Collin met her eye but he knew better than to voice his complaint. He walked evenly from the room and she admired his ability to hide the pain his leg must be causing him.

  A few moments later the door opened and Youngblood strolled in. “You wanted to speak with me?” her front man asked, his roguish smile firmly in place.

  “Oh, I don’t want to speak with you, darling.” Enigma laughed, slapping him on the backside while meeting her bodyguard’s dark eyes. “Mister Collin, do wait at the door to keep us from being interrupted.”

  The door closed and her smile was solely for Youngblood. The key to keeping his interest was to give the man an occasional taste, leave him wanting her all the more. It had been two weeks since she had taken Youngblood to bed, but Mister Collin did not need to be made aware of her preference.

  No, what Mister Collin needed to know was that he was not the only bull in the pasture. He needed to learn his place and his duty.

  Enigma stared at the handsome Youngblood, at his pretty green eyes and beautifully masculine features.

  “Get undressed, darling,” she ordered and his eyes flared, his excitement increasing the more she ordered him about.

  He grinned, taking his time in removing his shirt so that she might better view his bare chest and flat stomach. Youngblood did like to perform.

  “Oh, but you are pretty.” Enigma looked him up and down, meaning every word. “Now, hurry up with your buckskins so that I can see all of you.”

  Youngblood striped himself of everything and waited for her next order. She walked up to him, still fully clothed, and pressed her silk gown flush to his nude body. His eyes drifted closed at the feel of her hands on his chest as his erection settled against the folds of her soft gown.

  “Sit down,” Enigma ordered, making him sit in
the chair where Mister Collin had been. “Now, darling,” she said, lifting her skirts and settling on his lap, facing him.

  “Yes,” Youngblood breathed.

  “You know how much I like to hear you beg?” She kissed his neck, rubbing her body against his erection. “How much I like to hear you moan?”

  “Yes.” Youngblood nodded, so very eager to be ridden.

  “Louder, darling.”

  “Yes.” He could scarcely talk.

  Enigma lifted herself and teased him as she stared into Youngblood’s eager green eyes. “Yes,” he begged.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked, sure that Collin was listening.

  “Ride me, I want you to—” Enigma sank down on his rod and Youngblood groaned with the pleasure as she did. “Oh, God, yes.”

  His hands cupped her backside as she moved up and down him, shifting her hips to prolong each stroke, each masculine moan of anticipation.

  “How do I feel?”

  “You feel so . . . damn . . . good,” Youngblood said and Enigma smiled, watching the shifting shadows beneath her office door.

  “So do you, darling.” She closed her eyes to concentrate on her own satisfaction and rolled her hips, taking him deeper.

  “Oh, yes, ride me. That’s it.” Youngblood stopped speaking and just grunted with each delightful thrust and then with a declaration of intent, he screamed, “I’m peaking,” loud enough for all of Dante’s to hear, let alone Mister Collin.

  Enigma felt him go rigid and she looked down at him, increasing her carnal pace. The man was beautiful, and as she watched Youngblood climax, she ran her hand along his pretty cheek.

  She closed her eyes and felt her own burgeoning satisfaction cresting. But as Enigma thought of Jack Collin standing in the hall, her fulfillment was altogether disappointing. Youngblood was indeed handsome, but he in no way compared to the raw power of Collin that excited her so.

  However, Mister Collin still had to be punished.

  “Oh,” she moaned, imitating her level of excitement with Collin, and then let out one last feigned whimper of gratification that made Youngblood smirk with masculine conquest.

  “Did you enjoy that?”

  “You’re an excellent ride, Mister Youngblood,” she said, leaving him with the notion that she had reached her pinnacle. “But perhaps you should get dressed and welcome our afternoon customers.”

  He smiled, strutting like a peacock as he retrieved his garments, and she enjoyed watching him put them on.

  “Right away, Madame Richard.” He swept her a bow, opening the door and looking back at her as Mister Collin watched. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Oh, you’ve done quite enough already, Mister Youngblood.” They stared at one another as if her bodyguard were not standing at the door. “But rest assured that I will call if I want more of you.”

  Youngblood grinned before going downstairs to play the part she had hired him to fulfill.

  “Come in, Mister Collin,” Enigma said, the room still lingering with the scent of lovemaking. Her guard walked toward her, his jaw set in angry granite. “How is your leg?” she asked, caressing the outside of his wounded thigh.

  “How do you think?” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

  “I would imagine that it hurts,” she whispered seductively. “Shall I make it feel better?” Her hand moved to caress his cock and Enigma could see the he was resisting her. But as she continued to stroke his long length, she could see his chest expanding more fully, more frequently.

  “Now, go find out who is interfering with my code, Mister Collin.” He nodded, his eyes closing. “Or shall I send Youngblood to do that task for you, too.”

  Collin’s large hand wrapped around her wrist and he pulled her hard against his chest. “Why send Youngblood when we both know that you prefer my work to his.”

  Enigma felt a stab of desire that conflicted with her pecuniary need to control her bodyguard.

  She grinned. “I might prefer your work, Mister Collin, but don’t delude yourself into thinking that I did not enjoy riding Mister Youngblood. Or,” Enigma added, “that there might be a third man I would prefer even more.”

  Jack glared, his jealousy evident. “Perhaps I should bend Chloe over your desk.”

  A flash of fury shot through her but she hid it.

  “Chloe knows that I will slit her throat if she takes you.”

  “Jealous?” He grinned.

  “No, Mister Collin.” Enigma laughed as if he had the mind of a child. “I would slit Chloe’s throat for doing something she was not told to do, just as I would slit her throat for failing to complete a task I had given her.” His grip on her wrist eased and she let it fall to her side. “Now, go and find out what happened to that article.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  ~

  Juliet began her own investigation in the only place she could think to look.

  “That’s him.” She nodded at the clerk of the London Herald and watched her footmen approach the man as he locked the office door.

  The three men had words and then the clerk was being guided to Juliet’s waiting carriage. No doubt lured by the money Juliet had instructed her footmen to offer the man if he joined her.

  The thin clerk stepped into her conveyance, followed by one of her footmen.

  Juliet smiled at the man, asking, “Do you mind if we drive while we talk?”

  “Your coin, isn’t it,” the greedy clerk said.

  “Quite.” Juliet tried to ignore the smirk on his smarmy face, ordering the carriage forward. As they began to move, Juliet stared at the clerk and chose her words wisely. “I have noticed that your publication during the last month or so has made several printing errors.”

  The clerk shrugged, smiling with condescension. “Happens all the time, miss a letter here—”

  “Add an E there.”

  The man stilled and Juliet knew that she had him. “I don’t print the papers, my lady.”

  “But you do give the articles to the printers.”

  “Who did you say you was?” the clerk asked and Juliet lied.

  “I am a representative of Whitehall who is interested in the identity of the man who paid you to print the E error in those articles.”

  The clerk went white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Juliet leaned forward, surprised by her anger, and said through clenched teeth, “May I remind you that we are at war and that you can be hanged for what you are doing.”

  “Hanged?” The man looked at the two footmen. “For printing a bloody E in me paper!”

  “For selling British military secrets to the French.”

  The clerk swallowed, his eyes reflecting his shock. “I didn’t know what he was doing, I swear it.”

  “Who?” Juliet hid her excitement.

  The clerk looked around her carriage as he thought, considered. “No.” He shook his head adamantly. “I don’t know his name. No.”

  Juliet could see the fear in the clerk’s eyes and she tried to reason with him. “This man may be dangerous but he is nowhere near as dangerous as the full force of the British Empire.”

  Juliet watched the clerk, sensing how very close she was to learning the identity of the French cryptographer.

  “No, I don’t know his name.” The clerk was shaking his head and Juliet knew that she had lost.

  Damnation!

  She smiled, frustrated, and quickly altered her plan. “I can see that you are afraid of this man,” Juliet said, taking on the role of the sympathetic lady. “I shall give you three days to think about what you have done. What this man is doing to the soldiers dying for our country.”

  “Three days?”

  “Yes, I shall return next week and we can discuss what is to be done.”

  “Thank you,” the clerk said, grinning as if he had just fleeced her without her knowing.

  Juliet smiled back as they rolled to a stop in front of the Herald, having come fu
ll circle. “No, thank you, sir. For I know you shall make the right decision come Monday.”

  The clerk descended onto the walkway and they drove on. Juliet looked at her footmen, still sitting in the carriage.

  “Stop at the corner and follow him,” Juliet said. Knowing that this was well beyond their duties, she added, “And do be careful.”

  The footmen looked at one another and chuckled at her concern as they checked their pistols to verify that they were loaded. They stepped down from the landau and Juliet drove on, wondering if she should go to the Foreign Office and speak with Falcon.

  And tell him what?

  That a clerk at the London Herald might know the cryptographer’s identity? No, better to have the man followed and see what became of her investigation.

  It was a calculated risk to contact the clerk. In the end, however, Juliet had reasoned that the man would give up the name of the French cryptographer or lead her to him. Either way, she would be able to go to Falcon and his arrogant underling and inform them that she had found the Frenchman on her own.

  Juliet smiled at the thought and walked to her sitting room the moment she arrived home.

  “I’m back, Anne. How long until dinnertime?” Juliet looked at the stack of unread newspapers by her chaise.

  “Two hours.”

  “Excellent, can you come back in an hour and assist me in dressing?”

  “Of course, my lady.” Her maid curtsied and left Juliet to her mountain of reading.

  Twenty minutes into her research Juliet raised her brows to keep her eyes from closing. The fire was warm and all of this tedious reading was making her decidedly sleepy. She would just finish the London Times and have a quick nap before Anne returned to dress her for dinner.

  She turned the page and yawned. Two pages and she would be finished. Juliet forced herself to keep looking for patterns when her drowsy eyes snapped open. She scanned the article she was reading and was shocked to find not one but six E anomalies within the same article.