The Casanova Code (12 page)

He stared at the stars, lost in the heavens. “Hmmm . . . ? I wanted to see how it worked. It wasn’t very useful for looking at stars, you know. Not enough light to collect in the lens, but it did add a certain character to the moon.” He smiled, letting his fingers circle overhead, as if they were stirring the heavenly brew. “The constellations are known by different names in India and Burma, and their placement is altered, but they still appear with the same reassuring regularity.” His hand paused. “That one is called—”

“The saucepan,” Edwina completed with pride. “My brothers taught me how to use it to locate Polaris, the North Star.” She followed the line established by the star pattern, and pointed with her finger. “There it is.”

“Well done.” His breath warmed the back of her neck. With her head tilted toward the heavens, she hadn’t noticed that he’d moved behind her. A delicious heat pooled in her rib cage. He reached from behind her and tenderly directed her arm toward two sparkling stars near Polaris. “And do you know what those two are called?”

She could barely breathe, much less think. His touch on her bare skin reverberated with delectable intensity all the way to her throat. She simply couldn’t form the words. He might be interested in her solely for her knowledge of ciphers, but his touch still made her pulse race.

“The brightest one is Kochab, but together they are referred to as the Guardians,” he said, a wistfulness in his voice. “An older and more benign group, I’m afraid, than the one you encountered in my father’s library.”

She turned to search his eyes, which had assumed the weightier seriousness of earthbound objects. “Have you learned something?”

He shook his head, the magical experience of shared stargazing clearly faded. “Just that there might be reason to suspect the note contains secrets of interest to the Crown, or it might be something of a more personal matter. Either way, you need to know that transcribing that letter might place you in jeopardy.”

“What sort of jeopardy?” Edwina asked, a new flutter in her breast. The very word encompassed excitement, adventure.

“I’m not certain,” he said, exasperation clear in his voice. He toyed with her fingers, his eyes downcast. “I don’t know what the letter contains, of course, but if it’s national secrets”—he glanced up, capturing her gaze—“you need to be aware of that.”

Did he honestly think she wasn’t already in a form of jeopardy? Perhaps not of the sort encountered by translating state secrets, but jeopardy nonetheless. Her heart raced to be standing with him on a shadowy veranda while the ladies of a higher social station seethed with jealousy on the other side of the wall. She’d recognized their dagger glances as he led her outside. Would her involvement with Ashton jeopardize the rather boring yet secure future her parents had planned for her? Would she be able to repair any harm to her reputation? While she realized his suggestion of danger related to a more physical variety, her involvement with him was dangerous in and of itself. Dangerous in ways only a woman, dependent on a man for her future, could appreciate.

The hands holding hers offered acceptance. His eyes pleaded for her assistance, while his words dangled an enticement of adventure as if it were a scrumptious chocolate-covered éclair offered as a treat. Within his gaze, thoughts of security and reputation vanished and, as she had before, she assaulted the sweet with her fork waving. How could she not?

“I understand,” she said. “Whatever we discover, I promise I shall keep your secrets safe.”

She tilted her head as if she had just exchanged a vow of a different nature. He stepped closer, exchanging his grip on her hands for her waist.

“Then we’ll meet again?” he asked, his lips close enough to press a whisper to her own.

“The Crescent. Tomorrow at two,” she replied. “You should understand. This could take months.”

“Then I shall meet you for months,” he managed before his lips met hers.

• • •

H
E
SHOULDN
’
T
BE
DOING
THIS
,
KISSING
SWEET
E
DWINA
with a nest of vipers and gossipmongers so close at hand. But he couldn’t help himself. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to kiss a woman senseless. She offered her lips, and instinct took over. After he pressed her pliant lips in a gentle marriage of breath, he had intended to withdraw, but her soft moan pulled him closer. He almost wished she’d push him back as she had earlier, before his rakish talents had completely engaged his sensibilities. Edwina had values. Edwina had morals. She saved women from the likes of rogues like him. Yet his tongue gently parted her lips, then deeply sampled all she offered. And offer she did.

Her tongue timidly stroked his, sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He gripped her tighter to deepen the kiss, but then felt the jab of a pin . . . or perhaps it was the prickling of Constance’s voice.

“I thought I’d find you out here, luring some innocent to her ruination.”

Interrupted, he slowly withdrew, trailing the tip of his nose lightly up Edwina’s cheek. “Go away, Constance.”

“Did he tell you about the constellations?” the intruder continued. “Did he tell you your eyes rivaled the stars?” His stepmother laughed, a sound full of spite and little humor.

Ashton rested his forehead on Edwina’s, then snapped at Constance, “Go inside. I’ll be there momentarily.”

The sound of her retreating footsteps faded before he stepped away. While Edwina’s unexpected response to his kiss made him yearn to continue his exploration, the cool night air shocked him back to reality.

“Don’t worry. Constance won’t say anything.” His finger followed the path of her gold chain and lifted the cloisonné cherry blossom on his forefinger. “Not that such an indiscretion would concern my Mistress of Cherry Blossoms.” He smiled. “I know you, Miss Hargrove. You are a modern woman who rides bicycles and breaks conventions as easily as breaking my poor devoted heart.”

Edwina stepped back, covering the necklace with her hand. Her lip trembled. Did he just call her a mistress? Was that the result of dropping her guard for the sake of her curiosity? That was not her intent. While she wasn’t rushing into marriage the way others felt she should, she had no intention of being anyone’s mistress.

“I need to go,” she said, backing away. “My mother will be worried if she doesn’t see me inside.”

She turned and fled back to the ballroom, reminding herself that her future did not lie with the likes of the Trewelyns of the world. He would eventually choose a woman with a tiny waist and a feather in her hair. Edwina’s future would be a stable sort of imprisonment with Walter. She pressed her fingers to lips that still tingled from Ashton’s kiss. At least she’d have the memory of a kiss from the most handsome man in Mayfair to sustain her in that incarceration.

“Don’t be deceived, my dear.” Edwina turned to discover Ashton’s stepmother had moved to her side. “Ashton has no interest in anything other than stealing your virtue. Believe me, I know.” She stepped closer. “I’m telling you this for your own good. He’s known as Casanova for a reason. Ashton Trewelyn is nothing but a rake, and he will break your heart.”

Edwina paused for a moment, appreciating the irony that she was being counseled to avoid a rake and not the other way around. When had her life become so twisted? “I appreciate your concern,” Edwina said, not wishing to offend the woman. “But I believe there is more to your stepson than you perceive.”

“Has he presented you with a fan?” Her brows lifted. “A Japanese fan?”

That was the second mention of a fan. Edwina shook her head, pondering the repetition. “It is of little concern, though. I’m not so foolish as to believe my future lies there.”

Victory flashed in the woman’s eyes. Edwina spotted her mother at the far end of the ballroom speaking to Lady Sutton. She excused herself from further conversation with the disagreeable Mrs. Trewelyn, then crossed the room to rejoin her mother and thank Lady Sutton for the invitation.

It took several moments to extricate her mother from various conversations. Eventually, they climbed the stairs, only to encounter Ashton standing in the foyer. Edwina made the introductions and watched as he teased a smile from her mother with his observations of her youth and beauty. Edwina felt her own lips lift in a grin. Ashton Trewelyn could charm the stars from the sky. Was it any wonder that he had managed to charm a kiss from her? He pulled her aside, a short distance from her mother. “Tomorrow then? At the Crescent?” He took her hands in his.

Before she could reply, a commotion at the door pulled their attention. Walter marched toward her with a rage she’d rarely seen. His brows pulled together to form one thunderous line. “You . . .” He glowered at Ashton with icy accusation. “You filthy, lecherous scoundrel. Unhand her immediately.”

A
SHTON
SHOVED
HER
BEHIND
HIM
IN
A
HEROIC
EF
fort to shield her from Walter’s reach. But Edwina knew Walter posed no threat. Not to her. She stepped out from behind Ashton’s protection. “Walter. What are you doing here?”

“Stay out of this, Edwina. You don’t know what sort of man he is. You shouldn’t be here, and most certainly you shouldn’t be with him.” His finger shook as he pointed at Ashton. His voice dripped with acid. “If you’ve injured her in any way—”

“Walter, stop this,” Edwina hissed. “Your accusations are more injurious than his actions. People are starting to notice.” With her mother’s assistance, the two of them managed to push Walter out the front door.

“I commend you for your concern for Miss Hargrove,” Ashton said from the open doorway. “I have no intention to harm her in any way. You have my word on that.”

“From what I’ve heard, your word has little value,” Walter yelled before the door closed.

“How dare you!” Edwina punched his arm. “I receive an invitation to an affair the likes of which I could only dream of attending, and you rush in hurling insults with absolutely no basis.”

“I have basis,” he grumbled.

“Rude behavior never has basis,” her mother scolded. “Why are you here and not my husband? He was to escort us home.”

“He sent me instead.” Walter glared at Edwina. “And it’s a wise thing he did.”

Edwina took a breath. “I understand Mr. Trewelyn has a reputation, but I think much of what is rumored about him are exaggerations and untruths.”

“He certainly acted the gentleman to me,” her mother insisted before accepting Walter’s assistance into the waiting carriage. Edwina shrugged off Walter’s hand and followed her mother into the dark interior.

“Perhaps the gossip is true and you refuse to see the truth of it,” Walter said, settling opposite her. The carriage lurched forward, then gently swayed with the pull of the horses. After a few moments, the lulling motion seduced her mother into soft snores.

“Tell me,” Edwina whispered so as to avoid waking her mother. “Tell me what you think you know.”

“I know my sister is dead and he’s the cause of it,” Walter replied, keeping his voice low as well.

“He’s the cause?” Her voice squeaked. “How can that be? You told me your older sister died in an accident . . . alone.”

“It wasn’t an accident. She committed suicide.”

The words had the impact of a slap in the face. She heard her own gasp, then tried to see Walter’s face in the dark. She couldn’t make out specifics. Her voice mellowed. “I’m so sorry. That must have been devastating.”

Walter turned his face to the window. “It was. We don’t speak of it. Margaret always wanted to make the acquaintances of her betters, the young lords and their fancy ladies. She stole out of the house one night to attend a party at the invitation of a fellow who’d been sweet on her. Her clothing was torn when she came home, and she never acted the same. Two months later her body was fished from the Thames.”

A chill raced down Edwina’s spine. It hadn’t even been a decade since the courts ruled self-murder either criminal behavior or insanity. Such designations as those could ruin a family. It was surprising Walter confessed this to her as even he would certainly carry a stigma from the event. A lump solidified in her throat. For Walter to mention this must mean . . .

“Was it Trewelyn?”

Walter shook his head. “But the bastard did his dirty work at one of Trewelyn’s parties, that much is certain.” He scowled at her across the confining interior. “That’s why you can’t be in his company.”

The lump dissipated. She could draw breath again. Ashton himself was not at fault. “I don’t think he’s the same man he was then, Walter. People do change.”

The carriage slowed and rocked to a stop in front of the Hargrove residence, jarring her mother awake. Walter helped her exit the carriage. This time Edwina accepted his offer of a steadying arm in her own departure.

Walter held her in place momentarily, while her mother made her way to the front door. He tightened his hold, then crushed his lips to hers. The kiss, if one could call it that, was wet, painful, and generated none of the reaction she had felt with Ashton.

Walter pulled back, a glint in his eye. “Don’t be a fool, Edwina. This isn’t a game.”

• • •

A
FTER
A
QUICK
STOP
AT
THE
SHOP
OF
T
HOMAS
H
ARRIS
& Son, Ashton headed toward the Crescent, eager to rise to the challenge of deciphering the letter. Eager, he corrected, to use his mind for something other than finding ways to utilize the passing days. He missed the structure of the military, the purpose. It was clear he had no purpose here at home, other than to alleviate his father from escorting Constance to various insipid social functions and engaging Matthew in games and offering him advice. After all, someone had to show the boy the best way to bait a hook, thrust and parry with a blunted stick, and throw a rock to skim across the water, all things Ashton’s father had never found time to teach him.

Last night had shown how easy it would be to fall back into the inconsequential life he’d known before his military experience. It only helped to reaffirm his desire to acquire enough funds to establish himself outside of his father’s influence. But before that, he needed to make sure the coded message didn’t contain anything to threaten Matthew’s future or his father’s.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that deciphering the message would require close conspiracy with his sweet-lipped little code breaker. Who would have suspected that a bluestocking such as Edwina would have charms of her own?

While he had to admit his need to sample her lips was a hasty gamble, which could have earned him a slap across the cheek for his attempt, he found he couldn’t help himself. Unlike the other women of his acquaintance, there was nothing false about Edwina. She was engaging, interesting, and unusual in her insistence of being a “modern woman.” But it was her sincerity and compassion that drew him like a lodestone. He patted the gift in his pocket that he’d brought to show his appreciation for her assistance in this endeavor.

Even the pain in his leg faded as he approached the familiar establishment. A fine omen for a fine day. He stepped into the coffeehouse and scanned the tables. Edwina was nowhere to be seen. His lips tightened while he dismissed a niggling concern that his kiss might have frightened her. Not Edwina, he reassured himself. A woman who rode bicycles and broke into houses would not be frightened by a kiss, but still . . .

Remembering the interruptions of the dropped handkerchiefs from their earlier rendezvous, he chose a table in the rear, and selected a seat that would place his back to the wall. That way his full attention would be directed to Edwina and not to any passerby. He placed an order for tea from the waitress who followed him to the table. While tea was not his beverage of choice, it was what Edwina preferred and thus his beverage for the day.

She arrived soon after with the two loyal ladies who had threatened to storm the house in search of their friend. The memory brought a smile to his lips. A smile only faintly returned by the one called Faith. Something had changed. He could feel it in Edwina’s stern expression and her ramrod straight posture.

She spoke a word to her friends, then walked toward his table while the other two sat somewhat removed.

He stood. “Miss Hargrove. I was afraid you’d been dissuaded from coming today.” The jest inspired by her tardy arrival failed to solicit a returning smile. Strange, he would have thought she’d have some reaction.

Instead she quietly untied the ribbon to open her journal. “I assume you brought the note.”

She was avoiding his gaze, an action that did not bode well. He removed a folded paper from his vest pocket and handed it to her. “Has something changed since last night?”

She smoothed the paper and placed it on the side of her journal. She picked up her pen to copy into her book, all in silence. His earlier good humor soured and congealed in the pit of his stomach.

“It’s that kiss, isn’t it?” he said, keeping his voice low. “I won’t apologize, Edwina. It may have been ill-advised. It may have been presumptuous on my part, but it was the loveliest moment of the entire evening.” He altered his voice to what had always been an effective seductive purr. “One that I hope will be repeated.”

Her pen stopped its motion. She frowned at him, her expression as stern and formidable as the high collar on her stiffly starched blouse. “I would not count on that occurring, Mr. Trewelyn. In fact, I must insist that if we are to work together on this project you will not attempt such familiarity again.”

His eyes narrowed. “Has that brute that caused the ruckus last night turned you against me? What was his name?”

“Mr. Thomas was concerned about my reputation.” This woman, overly formal and annoyingly polite, was not the Edwina whose company he’d so anticipated. Her pen continued to copy the nonsense words into her journal.

“Just keep the note,” Ashton said, irritated. “It’s probably safer in your hands. No one would think to look for it with you.”

She glanced up. “Someone is looking for this?”

“No.” He considered his answer. “At least not yet. My father hasn’t mentioned a note, and Constance seemed no more agitated than usual last night. That woman, however, has the talents of an actress on Drury Lane. There was a time I thought I knew her thoughts. Now I wonder if she shows a true face to anyone.”

She returned to her task. “I don’t require the original to work on the code. I’ll copy the letter so a second copy exists. You can keep the original. You may wish to keep it for—”

“Bait?” He leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. “That’s an interesting thought. I see you have a mind for espionage, Miss Hargrove. I would not have expected as much.” Though he had noticed a wicked little gleam in her eyes on occasion.

“My brothers and I fancied ourselves spies on occasion,” she said. “Although I think they were more interested at times in torturing me for any secrets I might have.”

“Torture?” His stomach clenched.

“Spiders and garden snakes . . . harmless things.”

And something maybe not so harmless based on the hesitation of her pen. His code breaker had secrets of her own, it seemed. He decided to carefully explore this area, but not now. She was so tight-lipped at the moment, he would consider himself fortunate if she gave him the time of day.

Once she’d copied the mysterious correspondence into her journal, she proceeded to list the letters of the alphabet in several long horizontal lines on a different page of her journal. With her finger moving along the line of coded text, she recorded a mark under the corresponding letter on her alphabet page each time that she encountered it in the message. Even as she efficiently tallied the frequency of the letters, he had the sense that something was still amiss. She paid little more attention to him than the cooling cup of tea near her hand.

“Is it true,” she asked suddenly, “that a woman committed suicide after attending one of your parties?”

“What?” Another blow to his gut. “Who told you this?”

“Someone with a personal connection to the young woman,” Edwina replied, keeping her head down in her task of recording letters. “A man took advantage of her at one of your parties seven years ago. When she discovered she was with child, she threw herself into the Thames.”

Dear God, was it true? The devil knew it could have been. While he’d never experienced difficulty finding a willing woman to share his bed, he knew that was not necessarily true for others of his acquaintance. Back then he had tended to turn a blind eye to the others, preferring to place his full attention on his
amore
of the moment. He raked his hands over his face. Had the devil come to collect his due? “I don’t recall that such a thing had occurred. It might have. There’s much about those parties that I don’t remember or . . . avoided.” He looked askance. “I was often involved in other quarters.”

“Do you remember Sarah from the
Mayfair Messenger
?” Edwina asked, her pen poised in the air. “Her sister has a similar tale.”

“She committed suicide?”

“No. The sister died giving birth to a beautiful little girl. A girl who Sarah now raises.”

“Was that the result of one of my . . .” The burden on his shoulders intensified.

“No. But the outcome is similar.”

His eyes narrowed. “It is true that for a period in my youth, I gave little thought to the consequences of my actions, or those of my acquaintances. I found it difficult to ignore the . . . opportunities presented to me.” How else could he explain the surprising number of women, married and otherwise, who were desperate for companionship and attention? That they’d enjoyed the physical pleasure he gave them only added to the demand for his favor. “Why are you asking me this?”