The Casanova Code (20 page)

“Quick,” Ashton hissed, shoving the garment in her arms. “Back inside the gallery.”

Matthew ran after her. “Miss Hargrove, Miss Hargrove!”

Christopher!
How could an empty house be so full of people! The secret door stood open. She ran through it and pulled both doors closed behind her. Ashton knew where she was and she’d have to count on him to release her when it was safe to do so. She slowly backed toward the mattress. The lights were still on, illuminating that she was surrounded by the graphic pillow books, the forbidden woodblock prints, and scandalous netsukes. None of that bothered her as much as the fact that the door was closed, trapping her alone in a windowless room.
Please Ashton
, she prayed.
Don’t leave me behind.

• • •

A
SHTON
TOOK
A
DEEP
BREATH
,
THEN
STRODE
FORWARD
to greet his father. “You’re back early.” He scooped Matthew up in his arms along the way. “Did everything go well?”

“We discussed your admission into the Guardians if that’s what you are asking.” His father looked up and scowled. “Were you making inappropriate advances to the parlormaids again?”

Ashton covered his face with his hand, feeling the heat of Edwina’s slap. Perhaps he’d been hasty with his accusations, but that discussion would have to wait.

“What’s a guardian?” Matthew asked, rubbing his eye.

The senior Trewelyn glared at Matthew. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Miss Jordan must be occupied belowstairs,” Ashton explained. “Allow me to find her to take Matthew back to the nursery.”

His father grunted, a sign of acquiescence. “Join me in my study when you’re through. We need to talk.”

Damnation! Of all nights for the Guardians to conduct a short meeting.
Ashton hoisted Matthew on his shoulders and took him belowstairs to the kitchen where the servants ruled. His appearance meant the curtailment of their celebration, much as his father’s early arrival had upset his. Miss Jordan relieved him of the sleepy little boy, then headed up the back stairs to the upper levels, but the others scattered to their duties as well. The resurgence of activity made it too risky as yet to release Edwina. But his thoughts were on her as he walked down the passageway to his father’s study.

“Come in, come in. Take a seat.” His father poured brandy into two snifters, then handed one to Ashton. “I’ve talked to the Guardians about your admittance as a member. You know that we aren’t some social group that allows you to buy your way.”

“I realize that, sir.”

“We only accept members of a certain superior caliber,” he said, puffing his chest out in self-admiration. “I will admit there were some that are opposed to your membership based on your reputation as a woman-chasing rake of the ninth degree.”

Ashton’s teeth set on edge. The only person who believed him to be something more than a rake was probably loading all of his father’s netsuke collection into her tiny reticule as they spoke.

“There were some, however, that saw you as a worthy member.” His father sipped at his drink.

“And on which side did you stand?” Ashton asked, guessing that his father was not in favor of his joining the group.

His father’s lips thinned. “You are to be tested.”

“Tested? In what manner?”

“You are to be tested on your ability to keep the secrets of the Guardians and on your fortitude to complete an assigned task. You will be contacted at a future time with further instructions. I can say no more than that.” He stirred the air with his hand as if to dismiss any questions that were hovering. Ashton was not discouraged, however.

“A future time? Can you be more specific?” He sipped his brandy, hoping to discourage any thoughts that he was worried. However, he was concerned how this “mission” would affect Edwina’s efforts. Knowledgeable as she was about his application to the Guardians, he’d like to keep her abreast of his progress.

“No. Even I don’t know when you’ll be called. You can speak of this to no one,” his father warned. “When you receive your instructions, you will leave immediately without notifying me or anyone else. I, naturally, will understand when you disappear, but I cannot make allowances for you or explain your whereabouts. To do so would risk exposure of the Guardians.”

Ashton wanted to reply that the Guardians had already been repeatedly exposed, but held his tongue. If they wanted to pretend to be a secret society, he would go along with their demands, for now. Keeping this mission from Edwina would be difficult, but hopefully he could complete the task in short order. All he wanted was reassurance that his father was not involved in treasonous behavior. After that, the Guardians were welcome to their secrets.

“You will have to complete your mission on your own resources. I am not allowed to help you in any way,” his father continued. “Once you have satisfactorily completed the mission, you will be initiated into the Guardians.”

An initiation!
As if this test was not enough.

“You are part of Falcon Freight now,” his father said. “I urge you to remember our slogan. ‘The falcon’s path is swift and bold, courageous and honest with service of old.’ I expect your actions to exemplify those qualities and make me proud.”

Ashton felt a pull on his chest. His father had witnessed less prideful moments in his past, the many changes in schools, the numerous women, the wild parties, and yet never had he mentioned pride before. Even after he returned from the King’s Royal Rifles with a wound in his leg, his father never said he was proud of him. Suddenly he very much wanted to have his father’s respect and praise. Still the question had to be asked. “And if I do not adequately complete the test?”

“I will cut off all financial resources and send you out of the country. For you to remain in England would be an embarrassment to the Guardians. Better for you to live with the frogs than disgrace this house.” His father scowled. “Are you certain you want to do this, boy? The consequences of failure will be severe.”

Ashton carefully placed his snifter on the desk before rising. “I understand.” Before he left, he turned back to his father. “I suppose you hadn’t noticed. I left my boyhood years ago.”

“Then accomplish this task like a man,” his father said, “or I shall never look on your face again.”

T
RAPPED
. T
RAPPED
IN
A
ROOM
WITH
NO
WAY
OUT
, or at least, no honorable way out.

She could exit on her own, she’d done it before, but even she recognized that her ability to leave undetected would require a great deal of luck. Somehow, she’d didn’t feel so very lucky tonight.

How could he think of her as a thief? The accusation still rankled, though she had considered that might be his reaction when he discovered the netsuke missing. She certainly hadn’t expected it when the scandalous annoyance was returned. She glanced at the shelves of carved wood and ivory. Bothersome nuisances. Even if she wanted to steal one of those things for the price it would bring, how could she honorably present such an obscene object for sale? Once Ashton thought about it, and once he realized that the collection was still intact, she hoped they could remain friends. But would they be able to return to their previous footing? She fervently hoped so.

At first she continued to search through the pillow books, placing them in a pile by the mattress after she’d checked for coded messages. But she noted it was a slower task than before. The pictures reminded her of the things Ashton had done to her. How he called forth vibrations from her body that she’d never experienced before. The experience brought with it a realization of why those women did not have an expression of horror and shame at submitting to a man’s lust. In fact, the prints suggested that women had similar desires for men. Ashton did not present his jade stalk, but if he could solicit such sensations by use of fingers and tongue, how much more intense would those sensations be if he employed such a large instrument? Her womanly core began to stir at the thought.

She turned the page to see the depiction of a man in a black robe investigating the woman’s heavenly gate in a manner as had been presented in other pillow books, but this time she noticed the
mon
on the man’s garment. A pattern, similar to the maze she had noticed in her father’s office, was enclosed in a thick circle. Though she recognized that the maze patterns were not identical, they were close enough for her to contemplate—was her father one of the Guardians? Like Ashton’s father, he attended a meeting this evening . . . could it be the same meeting?

She set the pillow book aside, the page opened to the man with the
mon
. She’d leave it as a reminder to tell Ashton of her supposition. Meanwhile, she would leave the rest of the books for him to search on his own. Her body was too responsive to the suggestive prints for her to continue. She yawned, then stood at the door for a few moments, listening to see if people still stirred in the household, but she couldn’t hear anything. It was too soon, she decided, for the house to be at rest, or she’d attempt to leave.

Inexplicably, the room felt smaller, tighter without Ashton’s presence. While she might actually be in the middle of a grand house, she felt abandoned and alone. She lay down on the mattress and pulled her cloak over her like a blanket. She’d sleep. Yes, sleep and forget about all those faces staring at her on the wall. She’d sleep and dream and imagine she and Ashton were two figures in one of those prints.

• • •

“E
DWINA
. W
AKE
UP
NOW
,
DEAR
ONE
.”

A gentle nudge to her shoulder prodded her awake. She fought to open her eyes, for they clearly wished to remain closed.

“Come on now, love. Open your eyes.”

So hard not to obey when the command was whispered by such a lovely compelling voice. She complied with his wishes and saw Ashton Trewelyn come into focus. Was she dreaming? Ashton shouldn’t be . . . then she remembered. She was not at home in her own bed. While she should have been panicked, just seeing Ashton, just knowing he didn’t desert her made her current circumstances less fearful.

“Is it morning?” she asked.

“It’s before dawn,” Ashton replied. “I had to wait until my father retired before I could come to you.” He helped her sit upright then nodded to the pile of books by the mattress. “I see you were busy in my absence.”

She shook her head to chase the lingering cobwebs. “I didn’t find anything, but what have I missed? Did you speak to your father?”

He nodded. “I’m to be admitted to the Guardians only if I pass some sort of test.”

“What sort of test?”

“My father didn’t say. Even if he had, part of the test includes my not telling anyone about it. I assume that includes you, dear one.”

“Ashton.” She stood, then soothed her hand over that part of his face that she’d slapped. “I’m sorry that I slapped you, but I’m not a thief.”

“Hush,” he said, a finger to her lips. “I know that.”

“You do?” Relief flooded her. His opinion of her was too important for her not to try to correct his misunderstanding. “How?”

“Your letters.” He smiled. “And Matthew. Did you not see how his face lit like one of those new electric lights when he saw you? He trusts you implicitly, and I realized, I do too. I believe I knew that even as I accused you.” His brows lifted. “I know you, Edwina Hargrove. I’ve read your letters. I’ve seen your friends’ devotion. You are honest and trustworthy, and I was wrong to have forgotten that.” He kissed her fingers. “I’ve been the victim of some untrustworthy acts by people close to me, but you, my Mistress of Cherry Blossoms, you’ve not been one. I should be apologizing. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you.” She relaxed, releasing all her worries and anxieties over that carved nuisance. “When I discovered the figurine in Faith’s parasol, I was afraid you might suspect that I took it.” She turned her face from his. “In fact, my main purpose in coming here tonight was to place the netsuke back on the shelf.”

“It wasn’t because you burned for me?” he murmured. His gaze drifted toward her lips, causing her to think he meant to kiss her. Though she’d welcome his kiss, she wasn’t certain it would stop there.

“What else did your father say?” she asked, hoping to draw his attention away from the inspiration surrounding them.

His gaze searched her face a moment, then his lips twisted. He stepped back, putting a bit of space between them. “He warned me not to fail, though I have the impression that he expects that I will.”

“Then he doesn’t know you well. You’ll show him that you’re made of sterner stuff,” she said with conviction. How could a father be so ignorant of his own son?

“‘The falcon’s path is swift and bold, courageous and honest with service of old,’” Ashton recited, as if from an old lullaby.

“What is that piece of verse?” Edwina asked. A smile tipped her lips. “I don’t think it’s another of Mr. Wilde’s sayings.”

“It’s something my father said. It’s the slogan of Falcon Freight. If I fail the test, I will be a stain on the reputation of the company and the family. I’ll be banished from England and all financial resources taken away.”

Her mind stalled on the word
slogan
. She didn’t really hear the details about consequences. “Is this slogan something you’ve heard often?”

“Not so much of late, but as a child I recall him saying that line frequently.”

“Say it to me again,” she said, scrambling for her reticule. Fortunately her journal was inside as well as her pen. “More slowly this time.”

“Why is this important?” His eyes narrowed.

“I won’t know until I apply it to the coded text. But a slogan, especially one in verse, might be the key. It would be easy for both parties to remember and record, and it eliminates the need for a page reference or a shared copy of a particular book.”

He repeated the line. She copied it word for word, then repeated it back to him. She looked up, excitement glowing in her eyes. “I think this could be it.”

Before she could say another word, he kissed her, a quick jubilant sort of kiss. She tasted the brandy on his lips, felt it warm her own. Still grasping the notebook and pencil, she reached to rest her arms on his shoulders in the returned celebratory expression. At least it began that way.

Their lips parted to a point that only a breath existed between them, yet both were hesitant to separate. She looked up, noting desire smoldering in his eyes, and a flutter surged in her rib cage. She so wanted to be desired by a man who knew what he was about. She wanted to experience the excitement that he had brought to her earlier that evening, as she’d likely not have another opportunity. Was that what Mr. Wilde meant? She wished to be the Mistress of Cherry Blossoms before the cage surrounding her fully closed, locking her away from experiencing real emotion again.

Her eyes must have reflected her desire. He pulled her close, kissing her, but this time with hunger and demand. His tongue did not shock her as it had before. She allowed her tongue to stroke his with bold assurance while her fingers reached higher into his hair, lifting her chest to press so willingly into his. Her journal and pen fell from her fingers, the sound absorbed by the carpets on the floor.

Almost immediately, he pressed forward with a low growl of demand and dominance. Her back pressed the wall with a gentle thud, rattling the netsukes on the shelves opposite. One of his hands found her breast, his thumb working the nipple to a tight nub beneath the layers of thin cloth. The other hand worked to remove those layers as quickly as possible, and she wished it so—wanting to experience the awakening she had earlier. She pulled his shirt from his trousers, wishing to feel the warmth of his skin. Once her fingers discovered what her eyes had not, she worked frantically to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.

Suddenly he bent, then scooped her into his arms. She could feel the hard muscles in those arms, and remembered that he said working for Falcon Freight had improved his ability to carry heavy loads, something for which she’d be forever grateful. How wonderful to be lifted off one’s feet with urgency and need. Both of which she felt building inside. He carried her to the mattress and lowered her gently.

“Edwina, I think you know my intentions. I want you. I’ve wanted to bury myself deep inside you since the day you first broke into this house. I want you to experience the sort of pleasure those women know.” His jaw pointed to the prints on the wall. “Tell me now if you don’t want the same. Once we begin, there will be no going back.”

No going back.
She liked the sound of that. She felt like the tiger discovering the cage door latch hadn’t been securely refastened. A world different from the one she’d known, different from the one before her, beckoned with a lure she couldn’t refuse. What was it that Wilde had said? The best way to deal with temptation was to yield to it? She might never experience the many exotic locales on the globe, but she would experience this. Intimacy with someone who had been to such places and would teach her the secrets that he’d learned, intimacy with someone she had come to love. “No going back,” she repeated, then pulled his lips to meet hers.

She wasn’t sure how they shed so many clothes in such a short period of time, yet they managed. Her shirtwaist, skirt, and petticoat puddled on the floor. She’d tossed her wide leather belt, and it landed on the far side of the mattress. She worked the metal fastenings of her corset, unhooking them until the split busk hung on either side of her, then her breath caught. Ashton, naked from his shoulders to his toes, stood before her.

He was so incredibly beautiful, dark curling hair sprinkled across a chest sculpted by hard labor. The masculine hair formed a dark line from his belly button, passed ridges that begged to be touched, to a nest of curls not unlike her own. However, in the midst of this rose his magnificent jade stalk, long, erect, and threatening. Yet, it wasn’t. After viewing the prints and the pillow books, he was as she expected . . . and desired.

He watched as her hand reached out and stroked him from the base to the tip. She circled her fingers around him as she’d seen in the prints. Almost immediately a low growl issued from his throat. He pushed her back on the mattress, lifting her breast away from the cover of her chemise. He suckled there as he had before.

Dear Lord she wanted this. She wanted him. Flames danced in her body. Every part of her reached to get closer, begging for his touch. While he laved her breasts, he pulled the bottom of her chemise till it reached her hips. Without a glance, he untied her drawers and tugged them free, first one hip and then the other. Soon she was open to exploration with his fingers, but he did not stop there.

She guessed his intent as he worked his way down her body, stimulating with his fingers and lips, until he reached the juncture of her legs. He gently pushed them apart to accommodate him as he settled there, just as the octopus settled in the woman’s juncture in the fisherwoman’s dream print. The moment Ashton slipped his tongue into her nether regions, she understood why someone would dream such a thing. His tongue worked the part of her that his fingers had set to throbbing earlier. Soon waves of intense pleasure rippled through her. Her head thrashed, her fingers dug at the woven covering on the bed. Sensation exploded in rapidly increasing waves until she wanted to cry out, but she wasn’t assured that even the secret gallery could confine her screams of pleasure. When her littlest finger brushed the leather belt, she grasped it and placed it in her mouth. Biting and screaming behind clenched teeth, the release exploded within her.