A Code of the Heart (The Code Breakers Series Book 3)

by Jacki Delecki

  Amelia needed to act fast. She swayed and reached for a chair. “I suddenly feel faint. Perhaps it was unwise to come out this morning.”

  Gwyneth grabbed her arm. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have dragged you out of bed this morning. I’m going to take you straight home. Jenkins is waiting out front.” Gwyneth’s voice was so compassionate that Amelia wasn’t sure if she caught on to the ploy or if she was truly concerned.

  Amelia felt badly about acting a damsel in distress, but she must follow the smugglers to help her friend and her country. A fortune in diamonds could wreak havoc on England’s safety. On the brink of rumored invasion by the French, the English were suspicious of the French already in the country. And if the ladies of the ton suspected that Helene’s shop was the center of a smuggling ring, her business would never recover.

  Helene’s hazel eyes narrowed in question. “You do look pale.”

  Amelia had to swallow the retort she almost blurted out to defend her fair skin. “I am not…”

  With a steadying arm around Amelia’s shoulders, Gwyneth hustled her toward the door. “The sooner I get her home, the better.”

  Amelia turned back as Gwyneth guided her out the door. “Thank you, Helene. I’m sorry to have caused you worry. Lady Gwyneth and I’ll return when I’m feeling better.”

  Gwyneth kept a firm grip on Amelia’s arm and whispered. “Keep acting ill, in case we’re being watched.”

  Amelia jerked her head up to look around. “Have you seen someone?”

  “No, but from our experience at Christmas time, it is possible, and acting as if French spies were watching us makes our adventure much more exciting.”

  Amelia scoffed. Gwyneth was incorrigible, but also very sensible and capable—well beyond what her brother and Ash imagined.

  Gwyneth maintained a brisk pace to the carriage. Jenkins hastened to put down the step and helped them ascend.

  Amelia sat back against the cushioned seats and let out a deep sigh. “We’ve got to get to Lady Stamford right away before Elodie gets there.”

  “I assumed that was the plan behind your sudden fainting spell. You’ve never fainted in your life, have you?”

  “No, only knocked un-conscious.” Amelia touched her bruises, already turning purple and yellow, like Lord Brinsley’s.

  “Right. Sorry. But once we get to Lady Stamford, what then?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Amelia said.

  They burst into laughter.

  “We’ve got ten minutes to come up with something good.” Gwyneth snickered.

  “Do you know Lady Stamford well?” Amelia asked. “I can’t believe she is part of a smuggling ring, but before the treachery at the Christmas party, I took everyone at face value. I didn’t know your brother and Ash were spies.”

  “I don’t believe Lady Stamford is smuggling diamonds. But as my aunt would say, assume nothing.”

  “Are Lady Stamford and your aunt close?”

  “Lady Stamford is of an age with Aunt Euphemia. They debuted the same year. And, even though my aunt is quite eccentric and Lady Stamford is a formidable arbitrator in the ton on manners and fashion, they seem to be friends.”

  “Yes, Lady Stamford has been quite outspoken about some of my designs. She was positively apoplectic about my Greek toga dress.”

  They both tittered—remnants of their anxiety in going to Helene’s shop. “What excuse are we going to use to call on Lady Stamford at this time of the morning? It must have something to do with your aunt since we’d have no other reason to make a call?”

  “I could say Aunt Euphemia asked me to personally invite her to tea as her dearest friend.”

  “How will you explain the invitation to your aunt?”

  “Aunt Euphemia won’t mind if I invite her friend to tea. But I’d rather not tell Aunt Euphemia about the diamonds quite yet, or she’ll use her serious imperious voice and counsel me to confide in Ash and Cord. And then I’d feel awful not obeying her.”

  “Since we know that Helene’s not involved, maybe it’s time to tell the gentlemen.”

  Gwyneth leaned toward Amelia. “We know that Helene’s not involved, but will Cord or Ash accept our conclusion? And once they send someone to ask Helene questions, the ton will know within hours. And then the rumors will start.”

  A dull ache started in Amelia’s chest and her headache pounded. Nothing about this business was straightforward. “You’re right. We need to see if there is any connection with Lady Stamford, but I can’t imagine that she could be involved with smugglers.”

  “Maybe it’s one of her relatives taking the diamonds without Lady Stamford’s knowledge? Or one of her servants?”

  “Who are her relatives? Anyone suspicious?” Amelia’s stomach coiled into knots with worry.

  “She is widowed and has grown children.” Gwyneth looked out the window. “We’re almost there. We’ve got to settle on a plan.”

  “You can invite her for tea and then discuss the details of your wedding.”

  Gwyneth beamed. “Of course, and then I’ll mention my wedding dress.”

  “Exactly. And I can bring up the dolls and my design. And then you can get very excited for her to see the doll.”

  “And then what?”

  “A very good question with no answer. We’ll improvise.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brinsley sat uncomfortably in a small chair, in the over-heated, over-decorated, gold and green parlor of Aunt Mabel’s drawing room. He had arrived early, well ahead of his aunt’s usual stream of visitors. He didn’t want to shock the old biddies with his appearance. He shifted his weight again in the lady’s chair. Most chairs considered fashionable were too small for him, but today his discomfort stemmed from a totally different reason. His aunt had fervently embraced his request—she’d make him respectable in society.

  “You’ve made a wise choice in coming to me. It will be my greatest challenge to gain your entrée into society.” Aunt Mabel’s rheumy, but sharp eyes pored over his features. “But how am I to help you if you’re still fighting and brawling?”

  He shifted again, touching his hand to his eye. “This isn’t what it seems.”

  “Tsk, tsk. You need to settle down with a good woman to stop your late night wanderings.”

  His aunt would be the first step of his plan to move forward along this path. He had a good woman picked out, but he couldn’t mention that the woman was infatuated with her childhood friend. He planned to drive Amelia’s juvenile fixation completely from her mind. He already knew she was partial to him, but until he could again move freely in society, he couldn’t pursue her. Who would imagine, with his reputation that his interest was in an innocent red-haired cricket player?

  His aunt continued on, requiring no input from him. He looked up; she’d asked him a question.

  “It would make my task quite a bit easier, if Baron Lyon’s daughter would make an appearance. You are aware of the latest rumors?”

  “That I’ve fathered four children on her and left her abandoned and penniless in Scotland?”

  “I’d only heard two children. I wonder if it was Emily Billingsworth who started the rumor of the four children. She took offense when I suggested that she consider a reducing diet.”

  He didn’t care about the rumors, but Amelia, her father, and her brothers—they would care. He took a slow breath trying to ease the strain. Taking on society was more taxing than chasing French spies in Paris.

  Aunt Mabel persisted. “Why won’t Miss Lauren appear in society and put all the rumors to rest?”

  “I believe she would find returning to society too stressful; it would cause her to relive all the memories. She’s very happy living in Scotland.”

  His aunt puffed up her enormous chest. “Have you asked her? It would make my job a lot easier if she came forward and dispelled all the gossip.”

  He always found it hard to believe that this intimidating, hefty woman was related to his gentle, demure mother. He and his
aunt took after the paternal side. His grandfather and his brothers on that side were built like oxen.

  He shook his head. “I can’t ask it of her. She has suffered enough.”

  His aunt pulled a handkerchief from her large bosom and patted at the tears in her eyes. “My sister would be very proud of the man you’ve become.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Mabel. I wish we still had my mother.”

  “As do I, my boy. In her honor, I won’t rest until every hostess is vying for your attention. Fetch me my lap desk.” She waved her hand to the corner of the salon. “It’s sitting on my desk. I will start my campaign this very day.” There would be no turning back now that Aunt Mabel had the marital gleam in her eye.

  He walked to the desk as the salon door opened.

  Hotchkiss, Aunt Mabel’s aged butler, spoke in a voice of great consequence. “My lady, I’m sorry to interrupt. You have visitors.”

  “Visitors at this time of morning? Who would be calling at such an hour?”

  Hotchkiss, like his mistress, knew everyone in society and their social importance. This individual must be quite significant. “It is Lady Gwyneth Beaumont and Miss Amelia Bonnington.”

  Every sinew in Brinsley’s body tightened. Amelia here at Stamford mansion!

  Aunt Mabel harrumphed. “Why are those two girls out and about at this ungodly hour? I sense intrigue here. Bring them in and bring another tray. My nephew, strapping boy that he is, needs his nourishment.” She spoke with affection as she looked at the empty tray he had devoured.

  Standing at his aunt’s desk, Brinsley waited. Eagerness and dread skittered along his skin. He was a mix of conflicting emotions. He wasn’t ready for Amelia to know the details of his past.

  Shortly after the butler departed with the tray, Lady Gwyneth swept into the room with Amelia close behind.

  “Lady Stamford, we’re delighted to find you home this morning,” Lady Gwyneth gushed in her exuberant voice.

  Amelia’s thick hair was pulled back on her neck, though tendrils of the fiery hair had escaped their constraints and framed her oval face beneath her bonnet. He wanted to tuck her wayward hair behind her tiny pink ear. He wanted to inhale her exotic female scent. He wanted a lot more, but one step at a time.

  “My lady.” Amelia and Lady Gwyneth both curtsied together, unaware of his presence in the corner.

  “Ladies, what a pleasure to have two of society’s favorite daughters visiting.” His aunt seemed genuinely pleased.

  “Please come and sit. Hotchkiss will return with a tray in a few moments.”

  He saw the conspiratorial smile exchanged between the two women. What game were they playing, and how did it involve his aunt? Both ladies still hadn’t noticed him since they were focused on gaining entry into his aunt’s salon.

  “Are you acquainted with my nephew, Lord Brinsley?”

  Both ladies turned so quickly, their surprise verily exploded from their faces. He needed all the control he could muster not to laugh aloud. Oh, they were definitely guilty of something.

  He stepped away from the desk. “Lady Gwyneth. Miss Amelia.” He bowed.

  Lady Gwyneth recovered first. “Lord Brinsley, what a surprise to find you here.” She smiled and moved closer, offering her hand.

  Amelia stepped back and dropped her eyes, her long lashes closing down on her violet eyes, hiding any feelings.

  Aunt Mabel remained in her ramrod posture on the settee. “Derrick, do tell how you’ve come to know such estimable ladies,” she said in a voice that would not be denied.

  He spoke to his aunt, but continued to stare at Amelia, waiting for her to look up at him. “Aunt Mabel, do allow the ladies to sit before you start your inquisition.”

  Amelia started. Her lashes lifted, treating him to the sight of her dazzling eyes. Her purple pelisse made her violet eyes darker, the color of the night sky, and her red hair brighter, more vibrant. Her direct look sent shock waves through his body. How could one woman’s glance send his entire being into need and protectiveness at the same time?

  Aware of his aunt’s and Lady Gwyneth’s keen interest, he couldn’t look away, and Amelia seemed to be as helpless as he was.

  Lady Gwyneth broke the uncomfortable tension. “Lady Stamford, your nephew is a good friend of my affianced, Viscount Ashworth. Miss Amelia and I had the pleasure of his company at Lord Edworth’s party.”

  “Mmm…hmm.” His aunt didn’t fool him for one minute. The way her eyes filled with speculation darting between him and Amelia. The old girl hadn’t missed a thing. “Well now, this is a revelation.”

  Lady Gwyneth looked directly at his aunt as she removed her pelisse in the over-heated room. “It is time for your nephew to come back to society.”

  Aunt Mabel patted the seat next to her for Lady Gwyneth on the settee. “Please, Lady Gwyneth, come sit next to me. Miss Amelia, you sit next to my nephew.” He didn’t miss the way his aunt watched Amelia’s porcelain skin take on a rosy color.

  “My, my, what a beautiful blush. But what in heaven’s name happened to your face?”

  Oh, his aunt could be the devil.

  “Aunt Mabel…” Brinsley tried to make his voice sound stern. He wouldn’t allow his aunt to embarrass Amelia.

  “Settle down, my boy. Miss Amelia doesn’t need your protection, not from me. She’s made of sterner stuff. Isn’t that right?”

  Amelia’s lips curved into a subtle smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “My nephew, like all males, doesn’t believe that women can take care of themselves.” His aunt beamed at him.

  Amelia’s eyes sparkled. “Or believe a woman can play cricket proficiently.” Amelia’s voice and eyes were inviting and teasing as she smirked at him. And her affectionate regard softened the cold chill that had encased his heart for many, cold long years.

  “This is turning into the most interesting morning.” His aunt’s voice was smug, filled with satisfaction as she kept her intense gaze on him.

  Lady Gwyneth turned toward his aunt and spoke in her most cultured voice, “Lady Stamford, the reason we came by was to invite you to my ball next week—and it would be a perfect time for society to see that my brother and my fiancée both hold Brinsley in the highest regard.”

  Apparently Lady Gwyneth had decided independently of his aunt, to ease him into society. Both ladies were a force to be reckoned with, and he had no doubt in their ability to ease his way. The question remained, would their efforts influence Amelia?

  “I just started a list of my acquaintances. I’ll make sure each of them makes a point of speaking to him at your ball.” His aunt added.

  His aunt and Lady Gwyneth were talking as if he weren’t present. He didn’t mind, with Amelia sitting next to him, suddenly his world was in order.

  He leaned closer to her, seeking the slightest contact with her. “Miss Amelia, what brings you and Lady Gwyneth out so early?” He had no idea how well Amelia knew his aunt. He hadn’t been in society for four years, but he did know it was a very small and closed hierarchy.

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted, as when he had kissed her. But this time it wasn’t from arousal, but from surprise.

  “We needed to see Madame de Puis early about Lady Gwyneth’s wedding dress.” She rushed the words as if they had been rehearsed. “And Aunt Euphemia wanted Lady Gwyneth to personally invite your aunt to tea.”

  He might have been shunned from society, but he still knew all the rules: ladies didn’t call in person at this time of morning for an invitation. They sent engraved cards.

  “Madame de Puis?” He was trained as a spy. He shouldn’t have too much difficulty in discovering what the ladies were about.

  Amelia averted her gaze, avoiding eye contact, as her hands twisted the cords in her reticule. She was easy to read as she purposefully avoided his question about the modiste. She’d never make it in his world of spies. Or maybe only he could read her so well.

  “Lady Gwyneth, you’ve forgotten our reason for our visit, this morn
ing,” Amelia spoke in a tense tone he had never heard before.

  “Of course. Lady Stamford, my aunt wants you to come to tea this week. Is there a day that is amenable to you?” Lady Gwyneth smoothed her dress as she spoke and avoided looking at Brinsley.

  “How is dear Effie? I missed her at Emily’s soiree. I’m surprised that she sent you out at such an early time.”

  “We had to visit Madame de Puis early to choose the fabric for my wedding gown. Since I was close by, I told Aunt Euphemia I’d deliver the message in person.”

  The way Lady Gwyneth’s eyes darted back and forth, Brinsley was willing to bet his favorite riding boots that Aunt Euphemia knew nothing about this visit.

  “Do you use Madame de Puis as your modiste, Lady Stamford?” Amelia asked in a sweet, innocent manner.

  “Of course, she is the best. But I was put out and thought about taking my business elsewhere.”

  Lady Gwyneth startled. “Really, were you unhappy with Madame de Puis’ work?”

  “I’ve always found her work outstanding.” Amelia leaned forward as if ready to defend.

  “A bad fit or bad design?” Lady Gwyneth persisted.

  “No, her gowns are wonderfully constructed. She lent the newly arrived fashion dolls to someone before me. I always am the first to see her dolls. She won’t tell me who the customer was, but I’m sure Emily Billingsworth got in ahead of me for spite—all because of one remark about a reducing diet.”

  “How tiresome,” Lady Gwyneth fanned her face with her hand in a very affected, most unusual way for the exuberant young woman. He had never spent time taking tea with ladies and was surprised by all their nuanced behavior. Teatime could be a training ground for spies, especially where women of society were involved.

  “Have you seen the newest dolls?” Amelia asked intensely.

  “Amelia is a wonderful designer, and it would be quite lovely if she could see the dolls,” Lady Gwyneth chirped. “Have you received them yet?”

  Amelia choked on her tea, coughing violently while covering her lips with her napkin.