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

by Samantha Saxon

  The Welshman nodded and it was a shocking confirmation of her fears. Juliet just stared at the man, trying to read his mind as he closed the door. It was the way he looked at her, his head slightly lowered, that made Juliet raise her chin.

  “I am the daughter of an earl and servant to His Majesty King George, and yet I am to die in my own country at the hands of a Frenchman.”

  His thick black brows furrowed and she realized that he had no idea whom he served. “What are you saying?”

  “Your employer did not mention that he was selling secrets to France?” Juliet shook her head. “Whom did you think you were killing for?”

  “I’m a blackmailer and a thief, but I’ve never killed a man.”

  “How about a woman?”

  “Never!” The man lowered his eyes and Juliet suspected that he had become a thief out of desperation, but that did not excuse his current reticence.

  “Are you willing to start now?”

  The Welshman closed his eyes and she could see that he was struggling with his conscience.

  “No.” He walked toward her and Juliet held her breath, not sure what he intended to do. He pointed across the alley to the roofline on the other side.

  “Don’t take to the streets. They’ll find you straight away, but they will never think to look for you on the rooftops. Stay up there as long as you can, Lady Juliet, do you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Juliet nodded. She started to climb out the window but the Welshman stopped her.

  “Before you go, you must do one thing for me.”

  “Of course,” Juliet said, willing to agree to anything.

  “Strike me with the manacles.”

  “What?” Juliet was horrified.

  “You must hit me with all your might so that they will find me without my senses.”

  “You’re not going to stay here?” She thought of the cold man and of what he would do to the Welshman when he returned to find her gone.

  “I have to until I can warn me brother. He’s off on a job and will return in a few days’ time.”

  “They might kill you.”

  “Better me than you.” He grinned, resigned to his fate, and she touched his cheek as thanks. “Now, the harder you hit me, the more likely they will believe me when I wake.” He turned his back to her. “Hit me here.” The Welshman pointed to the crown of his head. “Hurry up.”

  Juliet took a deep breath and then swung the metal cuffs with all her might. He dropped like a sack of potatoes and she stared at the gash in his scalp, knowing that his pain would keep him alive.

  Satisfied that the Welshman was still breathing, Juliet balanced herself on the narrow windowsill. She lifted her skirts and concentrated on the rooftop opposite her.

  The alley was not wide but she would be dropping from a second-floor window to the roof of a one-story building. If she were to break her leg in the fall, she would be captured. Picking a spot least likely to kill her, Juliet bent her knees and hurled herself into the void.

  She landed on the opposite roof, falling to her side, her right shoulder smashing into the chimney. Juliet glanced back at the window and began to run from roof to roof. She was four buildings away when she heard the shouts.

  She flattened herself against the side of the chimney stack, straining to hear what the man was saying. She knew from the cruel tone of his voice that it was the same man who had kidnapped her.

  Juliet could hear her heart pounding in her ears like a steady, urgent drum. Her mind moved quickly as she chose her path. She lifted her skirts, moving stealthily as she kept low to ensure that she could not be seen from the street, all the while repeating the Welshman’s order in her head.

  Stay to the rooftops as long as you can.

  And then the rooftops ran out.

  A ladder led to the ground below but Juliet hesitated, terrified that the cryptographer’s crew would be searching the streets. And then she saw a hackney ambling down the road, looking for a fare.

  Grabbing hold of her courage, Juliet ran down the stairs, her eyes sweeping the walkways for any threat. She darted across the street and looked up at the hackney driver.

  “Belgrave Square,” she said, jumping into the dirty conveyance before it had fully stopped.

  “Right you are, my lady.” The man tipped his hat.

  The landau rolled forward and Juliet pressed her back against the squabs so hard that the wood supporting them groaned. She was shaking, but as the hackney picked up speed, Juliet began to believe that she would make it to the house alive.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  ~

  Seamus was out of his mind with fear.

  Countess Pervill had come to his home two hours ago to inform him that Juliet had gone to the London Herald and had not been seen since.

  It was his fault, of course. He knew that she was planning a line of investigation pertaining to the code. He should have watched her. Hell, he should have stood guard at her bedchamber door.

  Seamus paced his study, not knowing where else to look for her. He had gone with Falcon’s guards to the Herald, but she was not there. He knew the cryptographer had taken her. If he had been clever enough, he would have broken the code and Juliet would be safe.

  Sinking into his chair with the weight of his guilt, Seamus put his head in his hands. His fault. If anything happened to Juliet, he would never forgive himself.

  A knock sounded at the door and his head snapped up. Seamus jumped to his feet, his heart racing, not sure he wanted to hear that she had been found.

  Alive, please God, let her be alive.

  And then the door opened and he closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Seamus,” Juliet said. “I don’t know why I told the hackney driver to come here—”

  He scooped her up in his arms and headed back to his study, shouting, “Get some warm water and then send word to Countess Pervill that her daughter is here.” Seamus stared at her face, searching for confirmation that she was well. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and the dirty smudge on her chin began to quiver. “Yes,” she whispered, barely audible.

  Overcome with relief, Seamus pulled her to his chest then lowered her to the settee in front of the fire. He speared her hair with his fingers and pulled out the remaining pins as he searched her scalp for bumps and bruises. Her pelisse was next and Seamus took care to slide it off gently, noting that the right shoulder was torn at the seam.

  “Did they touch you?” He held her eyes, both of them knowing what he was asking.

  Juliet shook her head and Seamus closed his eyes, able to breathe again. She winced as she pulled her arms from the pelisse and he stared down at her wrists, feeling a rage deeper than anything he had felt before.

  The long sleeves of her gown were soaked with blood, and with the depth of her cuts, it must have been terribly painful to have the lace rubbing over them.

  “We need to remove your gown to see to these wounds, Juliet.”

  “All right.” She nodded and his butler returned with warm water and a stack of clean muslin cloths.

  Seamus glanced over his shoulder, not letting go of Juliet as he ordered, “Fetch a doctor.”

  When Seamus looked back, he saw that Juliet was trying to unlace her gown. “Here, let me.”

  “Thank you, Seamus,” she whispered. “I really am sorry to be a bother.”

  “Stop talking nonsense.” Seamus slipped her gown from her shoulders and then prepared her for what was to come. “Some of the blood may have dried to the sleeves.”

  “I understand,” Juliet said and he could see that she did.

  He peeled the sleeve away and it killed him to see her beautiful face contorting with pain. She let out several pants before the first sleeve relented, and when he grabbed the other sleeve, Juliet held up her right forefinger.

  “Give me a moment, will you, Seamus.”

  He watched her face, amazed that she had not even made a sound
to indicate her obvious discomfort. Seamus stroked her face and Juliet tried to smile as he whispered, “Take all the time you need.”

  He stroked her face two more times and then she nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Seamus grabbed the other sleeve, trying to decide if it would be less painful to yank the sleeve or move slowly as he had with the first.

  Somewhere in between, he decided and pulled.

  A rush of air escaped her when her arm was free and he could clearly hear her say, “Damnation!”

  He looked down at the damage to her wrists, forcing himself concentrate on helping Juliet and not the urge to beat the men who had done this to her.

  Seamus dipped a bit of cloth in the warm water and gingerly wiped at the worst of the blood.

  “They tied your wrists?” he asked, now seeing that her wrists had been rubbed raw.

  “Manacles. I left them in the hackney.”

  He met her eyes, his jaw clenched as he tried to calm himself. “Are you going to tell me what happened or am I to continue guessing?”

  She looked down at her wrist as he continued to dab at them, all the while keeping his eyes on her downturned face.

  “Well,” Juliet began tentatively. “Do you recall that I had gone to the Herald to inquire as to printing practices?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at the ceiling, avoiding his eyes. “I had a suspicion, well, a feeling really, that the unpleasant clerk knew something about the anomaly.”

  “Go on.”

  She met his gaze and he could see that she was fearful of his reaction, fearful of upsetting him. “I questioned him, telling him I was from Whitehall and—”

  “Oh, my God, Juliet.” Seamus ran his hands over his head, not knowing what else to do with them. “You didn’t tell them your name?”

  “Of course not,” she said, her charming nose wrinkled with offense. “How brainless do you think I am?” He lifted both brows as if speculating, and she rushed ahead.

  “The clerk told me, in a roundabout way, that he had no idea what the misprint was for and he refused to tell me the cryptographer’s name. I pressed him but he still refused so I told him I would give him a few days to think about the harm he was doing to his country.

  “He left and I had my footmen follow him, thinking either he would tell me the Frenchman’s name or tell the Frenchman that we were looking for him. Either way we would know his identity.”

  Seamus nodded, impressed with her logic. “So what happened?”

  “My footmen lost the clerk.” Seamus grinned at her note of irritation. “So, I was forced to meet him at the appointed time, hoping that he had changed his mind. But the clerk never showed and I sent my footmen into the Herald. When they didn’t come out, I went in looking for them.”

  Seamus groaned, his heart thundering with something . . . anger, he supposed. “Juliet, how could you have done something so dangerous?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Seamus.” Her brilliant eyes flared. “I didn’t think the scrawny clerk would be a danger to my armed”—she emphasized—“footmen. I just thought the clerk was finishing some paperwork and I went into the office to question him inside rather than wait.”

  She paused, closing her eyes, and Seamus could see that she was still shaken by what had happened to her.

  “I opened the door and saw my footmen on the floor.” She met his eye. “They are all right, aren’t they? The man said he hadn’t killed them.”

  “Yes, they’re fine.” Seamus nodded and her shoulders relaxed. “Your footmen came back to the house and told the countess that you were missing. Now, tell me about this man who . . .” He couldn’t say it, the fear of her abduction all too raw.

  “He was big and cold and would not have hesitated to kill me.”

  The heavy weight in his chest returned. “How did you escape?”

  “They took me to an inn and locked the manacles to a bedpost, but I managed to lift the bed.”

  “You?” Seamus looked down at the tiny woman.

  “You would be surprised at how strong a person can be when someone is trying to kill you.”

  Seamus began ripping the muslin cloth into strips, the process very gratifying.

  “I was just about to jump out the window of the inn—”

  “Jump?”

  “When the other man came back.”

  “What other man?”

  “The Welshman. He helped me escape because he knew they were going to kill me. Before I hit him with my manacles—”

  “You hit the man helping you?” His mind was reeling but Juliet just kept talking.

  “I hit him so that it would not appear as though he had been helping me.” Seamus nodded to her logic. “However, before I hit the Welshman, he told me to keep to the rooftops because they would never think a lady would jump to the next roof.”

  “No, they wouldn’t, would they.” Seamus was having a difficult time with the information himself.

  “So, I jumped to the roof, hired a hackney and . . .” She blushed. “Came here.”

  Seamus wrapped the bandages around her wrists and then tore her bloodstained sleeve to make her more comfortable. “What part of town were you in?”

  “No idea. I was so . . .” Juliet cleared her throat, embarrassed by her oversight. “Distressed that I did not think to ask the hackney driver where he had picked me up until he was gone. I’m sorry.”

  Seamus put her gown to rights and then gathered her in his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and he whispered, “It doesn’t matter, Juliet. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

  Seamus stroked her back and kissed the top of her head while she recovered. He leaned down so that he could kiss her, take away the horrible ordeal she had just survived. But when he looked into her eyes, Seamus could see that she had been thinking while she leaned against him.

  “You know what this means, don’t you, Seamus.”

  Disappointed, he reached for the soiled rags and threw them in the water bowl, rising. “No, Juliet, what does this mean?” he asked, irritably.

  “It means . . .” She stood, following him as Seamus opened the door and handed the bowl to a footman. She waited until he had closed the door and then looked up at him. “It means that we are getting close to capturing the cryptographer.”

  “We!” Seamus lost all control. “We . . .” He walked toward her and she walked backward, clearly intimidated. “Are not pursuing the cryptographer. I”—Seamus pointed to himself—“am investigating the code, while you”—he stabbed a finger in her direction—“will sit at home with a minimum of two armed guards at all times!”

  Her brows were furrowed and her mouth hung open in shock at his tirade. It took several moments for Juliet to acquire the ability to speak. “You’re overreacting, Seam—”

  “Overreacting! You were kidnapped and almost murdered today, Juliet,” he reminded her. Then he saw something in her eyes that prompted him to ask, “What have you remembered?”

  “The Welshman called me by name.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” Seamus rolled his eyes when a knock sounded at the study door, stopping his mind from considering the unthinkable implications. “Come.”

  Countess Pervill swept into the room and headed straight for Juliet, uncommonly composed. “Are you all right, darling?”

  “Yes, Mother. I’m fine.”

  “What’s happened to your wrists?” the countess asked, missing nothing.

  “I’m fine, Mother.” Juliet was shaking her head, her long hair making her appear younger and more fragile than she had before. “I merely scraped them when I escaped.”

  “Well, it is nice to have you home, darling.” Countess Pervill hugged her daughter and Seamus watched as the countess closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you so much for seeing to my daughter, Mister McCurren. We shall forever be in your debt.”

  Seamus shook his head, having done nothing to protect Juliet. “I merely saw to her injuries.”

  “Neverthele
ss, thank you.”

  The countess turned, guiding Juliet from the room when he stopped her. “I’m sending you home with four of my footmen until proper protection can be arranged.”

  Countess Pervill turned, her dark brows furrowed. “Protection?”

  Juliet tsked, rolling her eyes, but Seamus ignored her. “The men that kidnapped your daughter might try again.”

  “What?” The countess looked at Juliet. “Why?”

  “Honestly, Mother, Mister McCurren is exaggerating the gravity of the situation. This was an unfortunate incident and I shall be much more cautious next—”

  “There will be no next time, Juliet. Your work with the Foreign Office is finished.” He turned to the countess, seeking an ally. “If you want your daughter alive, keep her at home and guarded at all times.”

  “Is she still in danger?” The countess looked at Seamus.

  “No.” Juliet shook her head.

  “Yes.” Seamus nodded.

  Countess Pervill stared at her daughter. “We would very much appreciate your footmen as escort, Mister McCurren.”

  Seamus inclined his head, adding, “I’ll send the physician to Lord Appleton’s town home the moment he arrives.”

  ≈

  Juliet glanced over her shoulder at the looming figure of Seamus McCurren. He watched her walk to her mother’s conveyance as if she were incapable of making it from his front door to the carriage steps.

  Her mother stepped in first and then the two footmen flanking her assisted Juliet into the landau.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous, Mother.”

  She looked at Seamus, her guardian angel, as he stood on the landing of his front entry. His dark head was tilted and his eyes were fixed on her so intently that she felt somewhat disconcerted. The carriage started forward and she sat back, catching one last glimpse of Seamus as he spun on his heels, his jacket flaring as he swept inside his home.

  Why did he have to do that? Why could he not just walk into a house like normal men? Why could he not just read a book instead of deciphering it? Or perhaps just stand in a corner rather than overwhelm an entire room? Or kiss her without consuming her?

  “What’s the matter?” her mother asked. “You look angry.”