“I’m not a child, I don’t need watching.”
“When we get home, you will tell me precisely what happened today and then we will discuss how much watching you need.”
Juliet had not even stepped out of the landau before Felicity was pulling her from it. She glanced at Seamus’s four footmen as her cousin slipped her right arm around Juliet’s waist then proceeded to walk her up the stairs as if she had two broken legs.
“Really, I’m fine, Felicity,” Juliet said as they walked through the entryway. “I just need a bath and something to eat.”
Felicity ran off to have the cook prepare some food and her mother stopped Juliet, saying, “Come to the parlor when you’ve freshened up.”
Juliet nodded, too tired to do anything else as she made her way up the stairs. She was on the fifth step when she paused and turned round only to see four footmen nipping at her heels.
“Where do you think you are going?”
The most senior man stepped forward. “We have been ordered to keep you in view at all times, Lady Juliet.”
“Like hell you will,” Juliet snorted and turned to walk up the stairs but she stopped when she saw that the footmen were following. “Look,” she sighed, “I’m home safe and sound and you can wait for me in the entryway if I need to go out, all right?”
“Mister McCurren said you would say that and wanted me to inform your ladyship that all four of us would be dismissed if we did not comply with his orders.”
Juliet lowered her voice and wrinkled her nose, saying, “Well, Mister McCurren is not here, is he? And as I don’t think any of you will tell—”
“He said you would say that, too, and wanted me to inform your ladyship that he would be calling on the house and, if we were not at our posts when he arrived, we would be sacked.”
Juliet placed her hands on her hips and, finding no alternative, looked down at Seamus’s footmen. “Come on then,” she said. Seamus knew that her guilt over getting the footmen dismissed would keep her from doing anything else.
They arrived at her bedchamber door and the senior footman held up a hand, stopping her as two men swept into her room, frightening her lady’s maid and causing the girl to drop Juliet’s wash towels.
“It’s all right, Anne, they’re with me,” she said as the men searched her room. “In a manner of speaking.”
When the room had been deemed free of villains, the two junior footmen stepped out onto the balcony. And the senior footman drew the balcony curtains and then walked back to the bedchamber door.
“We’ll be just outside if you need us,” he said, closing it.
“Anne, get those poor men on the balcony some blankets, would you,” Juliet ordered and then stepped into the washroom.
She disrobed, thankful to be alone, and in the isolation of the washroom and away from concerned eyes, Juliet cried, the terrifying ordeal she had just suffered not very far from behind her.
≈
Enigma stared at the Welshman, her blood boiling. “You knew I wanted to speak with her.”
“I didn’t think a little thing like that would be strong enough to lift the bed off the floor.”
Men constantly underestimated women and Enigma rolled her eyes at their stupidity.
“Well, now you know better,” she smirked, looking at the white bandages around his thick head. “So, if Lady Juliet is working for Whitehall and knows of the code and Seamus McCurren is her lover and also working for Whitehall, then we can conclude . . . ?”
“Seamus McCurren knows about the code,” Mister Collin said, and Enigma smiled, pleased with his conclusion.
“However,” she said, pacing up and down her office, “if Lady Juliet was interviewing the clerk at the Herald, then they have not gotten very far in their investigation and will have no way of linking the code to Dante’s.”
“Then why does McCurren come here so often?”
“He comes for me.” Enigma smiled. “He comes for the challenge of matching wits with me.”
Mister Collin’s eyes narrowed, as he no doubt realized the truth of her words. After all, Seamus McCurren played only at the proprietor’s table. “So what do we do now that we know the Foreign Office has found our code?” he asked.
“They haven’t found the code,” she mused, “merely the markers.”
Enigma stared at the walls as she considered her plan of attack. The gentlemen of the Foreign Office could look all they liked, but they would never find her code. Even the brilliant Seamus McCurren had only detected her coded markers.
Still.
“Keep following McCurren,” she said to the Welshman.
“Right.” The Welshman left and Enigma turned to Mister Collin. “Send for Lord Harrington. Have him come back to town as quickly as possible and then have Mister Matthews settle up the books and call in any debts owed us.”
“That could take several days,” Mister Collin reminded her.
Enigma nodded. “We need to meet with the French to arrange for new markers before we leave London and that will also take time to arrange. However, we should be prepared.” She thought about the alluring Seamus McCurren and what he was capable of discerning. “We might have to leave quickly.”
But she wasn’t finished playing their game just yet.
Chapter Twenty-seven
~
Juliet looked out at the beautifully attired guests at the ball, just happy to be out of the house.
She plastered a smile to her face as she chatted with people she disliked, knowing that in part the DunDonell Ball was being given on her behalf. But Juliet was tired of being polite and begging forgiveness from the matrons of the ton for something that she hadn’t even done.
Bloody Harrington!
Still, she supposed that she should try to regain her reputation. Choosing to decline an invitation was one thing, but not being invited anywhere was an entirely different matter. And now that Seamus McCurren had well and truly barred her from the Foreign Office, Juliet would need to occupy herself in some fashion.
Perhaps she should contact Oxford? But as she thought of the eager professor who hung on her every word, Juliet’s skin crawled. No, if she were to work on any mathematical suppositions, they would be researched entirely on her own.
She sighed, picturing her life sitting before a desk with a pile of papers and a worn wooden pencil. Juliet was so lost in her dismal daydream that she did not hear Robert Barksdale approach her from behind.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Juliet turned and stared. “Yes, thank you,” she said, smiling uncertainly, unsure of Robert’s motives.
It was the first time since the scandal that he had approached her in public and heads were discreetly turning in their direction.
“Would you care to dance, Lady Juliet?” Robert’s heart was on his sleeve as he held out his arm for all the guests to see.
“I’ll dance with you once,” Juliet agreed, thankful that her long gloves would hide her wounds from him.
“One dance is more than I had hoped for.” Robert smiled, then took her in his arms for the first dance of the evening.
“How have you been, Robert?” Juliet stared at his chest.
“Miserable.”
She let her eyes touch his and then moved on, saying, “Good.”
“I deserved that.”
“And quite a bit more.”
“But as you can see, this time I am asking you in full view of the ton to be my bride.”
Her eyes flew to his and she all but stopped on the ballroom floor.
“And your father?” she could not help asking.
“I told the earl to give the estate to one of his many by-blows.”
Juliet laughed. “Oh, yes, bringing up the man’s illegitimate children was the course I would have chosen.”
“No, it is not.” Robert shook his head, certain. “You would have told the earl to go hang himself the first time he threatened to cut you off.” Juliet blushed, remembering the distast
eful meeting with her own father. “That’s why I’m absolutely besotted with you. Marry me, Juliet?”
Juliet stared at the possibility of a normal life, a husband, children. It was so very tempting. As they reached the end of the dance floor, she stepped off with Lord Barksdale following after her.
≈
Seamus leaned to his right and stretched his neck so that he might watch Juliet dancing with that bastard Barksdale. But they had just left the ballroom floor and for a moment Seamus lost sight of her.
“Excuse me,” Seamus said to several gentlemen with whom he had been conversing, but he never took his eyes off Barksdale’s back.
He could see the edge of Juliet’s pink gown, but the rest of her was obscured by Robert Barksdale as the man led her to the far wall for a bit of privacy.
“Bastard,” he mumbled, his lips curling with distaste.
Lord Barksdale’s brown curls covered his eyes as he bent his head to speak with Juliet. The lass was shaking her head and the closer Seamus came to her, he saw that she was upset.
“Are you all right, Lady Juliet?” Seamus met her eyes, worried that she had not yet recovered from her ordeal. “You looked distressed.”
Lord Barksdale glanced over his shoulder, his jaw tense. “The lady is none of your concern.”
“Perhaps the lady would like to answer for herself?” Seamus held the younger man’s gaze along with his threat. “Lady Juliet?”
“I shall speak with you later, Lord Barksdale,” Juliet said.
Barksdale looked at her and, after a long pause, reluctantly bowed, saying, “I look forward to hearing your answer.”
The lass blushed, no doubt a result of Robert having posed a highly inappropriate question. Seamus was itching to flatten the English prick, but as he was at his brother’s own ball, he stood his ground and forced the bastard to knock shoulders with him as he walked away.
“Are you sure you’re all right, lass?”
“No,” Juliet admitted and the corner of his mouth lifted at her unerring honesty.
Seamus turned toward the ballroom, staring at the retreating figure of Lord Barksdale. “Has Robert Barksdale asked you to . . . to become his mistress?” Seamus mumbled, his fists clenched.
“How dare you.” Seamus glanced at Juliet, confused by the rage shaking in her voice. “Are you seriously standing here, concerned with my future, when you are solely responsible for having me dismissed and for holding me prisoner in my own home?”
Seamus felt a stab of guilt, but the knife failed to withdraw from his chest.
“The guards are for your own protection, Juliet, and you are perfectly welcome to pursue your own interests,” he reasoned.
“Which interests might those be, Mister McCurren? Needlepoint and the arrangement of flowers? I’d rather slit my own throat. Besides”—Juliet met his gaze, whispering— “if I agree to Lord Barksdale’s proposal, I shall be under his protection . . . not yours.”
“You’re not . . .” Seamus paled, “You’re not seriously considering Barksdale’s proposal,” he whispered, glancing about the room. “To become his mistress?”
Juliet’s eyes sparkled a brilliant blue and she smiled maliciously. “Why not? I can enjoy all of the pleasures marriage has to offer a woman without any of the constraints.”
“You can pursue your work without . . .” Seamus couldn’t push the words passed the sinking feeling in his chest.
“Can I?” she asked, her eyes ablaze. “It was not my life’s goal to become a cryptographer, but it did give me something with which to occupy my mind.”
Seamus stilled, realizing for the first time the devastating consequences of an idle mind, particularly a mind as powerful as Juliet’s. This is all I have. Her words bounced about his brain as he tried to imagine not having his books, his work, to challenge himself.
“I’m sorry, Juliet,” Seamus said and she turned crimson.
“Don’t you dare pity me, Seamus,” she whispered with tears glistening in her eyes. “I do, after all, have motherhood to look forward to.”
Stunned, he looked down at Juliet, his stomach seizing. “The bastard asked you to marry him?”
“He has the special license in his pocket.”
“When?” Seamus felt his throat closing.
“Tomorrow, if I’m of a mind.” Juliet curtsied. “Now, if you will excuse me. I think Felicity should be the first to know of my impending nuptials.”
Seamus scanned the room for Felicity Appleton, and unable to find her, he grasped Juliet’s arm. “She’s gone home, I’m afraid.”
“Felicity did not inform me that she was leaving,” Juliet said, truly concerned.
“It seems Lord Appleton was fatigued and she was accompanying him back to their home. She asked me to inform you of her departure, which is why I sought you out.” Seamus smiled at how well his lie was falling into place as he continued to move them toward the front door. “I’ll drive you home, if you like.”
“Yes, all right.” Juliet nodded, clearly relieved at being able to leave so early. “Thank you, Mister McCurren.”
“Not at all.” Seamus assisted her into his conveyance and then gave the driver directions before climbing in after her.
Juliet sat, staring at the window. Their eyes met in the reflection of the glass. She reached out and yanked the velvet curtain closed then settled back against the squabs.
The noise on the street faded in favor of the rhythmic clomping of hooves and Seamus knew that time was running short. “Will you live in the country with Barksdale?”
“The country?” It took her a moment to understand what he was asking. “I . . . we have not discussed the matter of our primary residence.”
Seamus stared at her profile, envisioning her gone. “What have you discussed?”
Her eyes narrowed and her head swung round as the carriage came to a stop. “That is none of your concern!”
She pushed past him before he could assist her down, only to stop on the walkway in front of his home. Juliet was shaking her head, saying, on an incredulous exhalation, “You’ve kidnapped me!”
“No.” Seamus held up both hands, trying to think what the hell he had done. “I merely think you should consider Barksdale’s proposal carefully.”
“You take me home right now, Seamus McCurren.” She climbed in his carriage, her arm crossed over her chest.
He took a deep breath and said, “No.”
“No? No!”
“Juliet, just come inside and speak with me for ten minutes and then I’ll drive you to your cousin’s.”
“Why? What good is ten minutes—”
“I just think you are not thinking clearly. You had a terrible shock with your kidnapping—”
“My first kidnapping,” she spat.
“Ten minutes.” His voice was soft, his eyes concerned.
Juliet stepped out of the carriage, lifting her skirts as she ascended his front steps mumbling, “Don’t have much choice, do I?”
Seamus followed her up with no idea what the hell he was going to say. “My study, perhaps?”
A roll of her eyes was his only response and they walked into the book-lined room at odds.
“Would you like a drink?”
“If it will pass the ten minutes more quickly . . .” She shrugged and Seamus sighed. “Scotch, please.”
He turned to the decanter and asked the wall, “Why are you marrying Lord Barksdale?”
“God, you are such a man.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Seamus spun round as if he had been accused of murder.
“It means, Mister McCurren, that women have very little choice in these matters. I am a ruined woman who must sit round and pray for an offer and I’ve just received one.”
“From a man that asked you first to be his mistress!” He thrust the crystal glass toward her.
“Robert apologized.” She yanked the glass from his hand. “And besides, marrying Lord Barksdale is the only sensible thing
to do.”
It was and he knew it, which irritated him further. “And since when have you done anything sensible?”
“And when have you done anything not perfectly sensible?” It was an insult; they both knew it. Juliet smiled. “Has it been ten minutes?”
“No.” Seamus took the glass from her hands and threw it against the wall.
“Oh, you’re absolutely mad,” she said sarcastically as she walked toward the scotch-covered wall. “Your scullery maid will be all a fluster, poor thing. Perhaps, I should hire her when Robert and I marr—”
Seamus had Juliet pressed against the wall before she knew what had hit her. He was kissing her deep and long and with more passion than he had ever known, but it wasn’t enough.
His hands slid round her back and splayed the expanse, pulling her flush to his body. She moaned into his mouth as he surged deeper, drinking in everything she had to offer while offering her everything he had.
“You’re not marrying Robert bloody Barksdale,” Seamus commanded against her lips and then picked her up and carried her to the carpet in front of the fire.
Her backside had scarcely touched the ground before he was kissing her again. Seamus stripped her of her ball gown. He tossed it toward his feet and sighed with satisfaction when he felt her arms curl round his neck.
He was untying his cravat with one hand when she whispered, “Seamus?”
He kissed her deeply, not wanting to hear her deny him.
“Don’t think, Juliet,” he breathed, kissing her again. “For once in your life, please, just stop thinking.”
Seamus could see her doing just that so he caressed her breast and kissed her senseless. He sighed with satisfaction when he felt her hands pushing his jacket from his shoulders.
Juliet watched him eagerly as he shrugged out of the jacket and she could scarcely breathe. He stared with equal anticipation at her remaining garments, trying to discern the fastest method of discarding them.
But he had hesitated too long.
He smiled his encouragement as Juliet fought with her chemise and then it was his turn. He placed both hands on her waist and slid her drawers from her slender hips.
The King's Code (The Lady Spies Series #3): A Regency Historical Romance Page 20