“Thank you,” she said primly, then set to work. A half hour later, after much thought, concentration, and toil, she pushed the vellum back toward him. “There you are.”
He flipped the page around and scowled at it. “What the devil is that supposed to be?”
“I presume it is the landscape that he believed you might be interested in acquiring, although why on earth you would want such an ugly painting that consists of nothing more than a mass of untidy squiggles is beyond me.”
He looked up from the drawing and pinned her with his gaze. “This is exactly what it looked like? The same size, the same number of squiggles, all the same length?”
“As near as I can recall. I fear I’m not an artist.”
“An understatement if ever I’ve heard one.”
She shot him a potent glare. “Even if I were Da Vinci himself, I fear I did not pay as much attention to the drawing as I did to the body of the letter itself. Do you recognize the painting?”
“No, but that isn’t surprising. Clearly what your father drew, under the guise of a painting, was a map, one that would presumably contain the location of the jewels.”
“Really?” A sense of excitement trilled through her. “Are you merely guessing because hidden maps are the sort of things spies do, or do you know for certain?”
“Hidden maps are our forte, of course,” he said in a dry tone, “but I know for certain based on what I’ve decoded from your father’s letter.”
She leaned across the desk. “You’ve deciphered the note? So quickly? How did you figure it out? Will you show me how you did it? What does it say?”
His lips twitched at the barrage of questions. “Yes, I’ve deciphered it. I figured it out so quickly because not only was decoding my specialty, but I am unsurpassedly brilliant.”
“Hmmm. I don’t believe ‘unsurpassedly’ is a word, Dr. Brilliant.”
He waved his hand. “It should be. As for showing you how I did it, I fear I cannot, for it quite clearly states in the Official Spy Handbook that a spy cannot, under any circumstances, no matter how he might be coaxed or tortured or kissed, reveal any code used by the Crown.”
“Coaxed, tortured, or kissed?”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “It was all in the line of duty, I assure you. As for what the note said…” His voice trailed off and his expression sobered.
“What is it?” she asked, a fissure of dread snaking down her spine.
For an answer, he pushed a piece of vellum toward her. “This is the decoded message.”
Victoria pulled the note closer and read the neatly written words.
Finally located Baylor. French found him first, he was near death. Gave unexpected information about jewels. That same night attack attempted on me. Believe this attempt related to another case. Am fine but want Victoria far away from me for her safety. Entrusting her to you. Won’t allow her to leave there until directed. This is map Baylor sketched. He said it was rock formation that showed jewels location on your property. Find jewels, get them to me, and we’ll clear your name. Be safe. Keep my girl safe.
Her heart thumped in slow, painful beats and she looked up at him. “Do you know if my father truly is unharmed?” she asked, proud that her voice remained steady.
He studied her for several seconds before replying. “Truly? No. He claims he’s fine, and I know your father, Victoria. He is the most resourceful man I know. Over the years, he has weathered several attacks against him.”
She actually felt the blood drain from her face. “If you’re hoping to reassure me of his safety, you aren’t doing a very good job.”
“I’m being honest with you. He knows how to take care of himself. Since he didn’t indicate he’d been hurt, I’m sure he wasn’t.”
“How do I know this is actually what he’d coded into the note? That you haven’t left something out?”
His gaze seemed to bore right through her. “You don’t. If you continue with your insistence on helping me, I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”
Trust him? A spy? A man who made his living by telling elaborate lies? A man who was no doubt searching for a way to find his cache of jewels without her? A man who could adversely affect her self-control with a mere look? A man who’d proven he would take advantage of being alone with her? She’d be mad to trust him. Yet… there was something about him that inspired confidence and faith. And as for being alone with her, well, her conscience demanded that she admit she’d taken just as much advantage of that situation as he had. And apparently her father thought him trustworthy. Surely he wouldn’t entrust her care to him otherwise.
Heat crawled through her from his intent regard, and she dropped her gaze to the note. “How on earth did you decipher this message from Father’s letter?”
“I told you, I am unsurpassedly brilliant.”
“You mean your brilliance is unsurpassed.”
“Why thank you.”
“Who is this Baylor?”
“A man for hire, and he wasn’t particular about who hired him-us or the French. He played both sides and gave his information to the highest bidder. He was one of the craftiest, most unscrupulous men I’ve ever run across. When I resigned from my service to the Crown, Baylor was being sought by the French and English alike.”
“How did he have information about the jewels? Could he have been involved in their disappearance?”
He shrugged. “Possibly. But Baylor was like a rat, sneaking around into crevices, ferreting out snippets of information, then selling them to interested parties. He might have come across the information inadvertently and was trying to make a sale when your father found him.”
She looked at the drawing she’d made. “That doesn’t look like any sort of map I’ve ever seen.”
“You cannot recall anything else?”
She slowly shook her head. “No. I thought it was a picture of tufts of grass, but according to the decoded note, it’s a rock formation.”
“Yes, but which one? There’re dozens on this estate.”
“So where do we begin?”
“I’ll draw a grid map of the property and we’ll search one area at a time. And you’re not to discuss this. With anyone.”
She raised her brows at his peremptory tone. “What about your brother and Lord Alwyck?”
“No one.”
“But why? They already know about the note. They know I know about it.”
“Because your father requested it.” He pointed to two words at the bottom of the note. “ ‘Be safe’ was a secret code between your father and me. It means not to discuss the matter with anyone.” His gaze bore into hers. “Unfortunately, with circumstances such as they are, you already know-something your father would not be pleased about, I’m sure. Of course, I’m also certain he wouldn’t be thrilled to know that since your arrival in Cornwall you’ve resorted to kidnapping and blackmail.”
“I’ve done no such thing!”
“Really? What would you call holding my letter hostage and demanding I accept your assistance before you’d return it to me?”
Victoria lifted her chin. “If I’d done anything less, I’d have once again been relegated to the corner with an indulgent pat on the head. As a Modern Woman, I refuse to be treated like that any longer.”
“Bravely spoken words. However, you might want to keep such declarations under your bonnet once you return to London. I doubt either of your potential fiancйs would be happy to hear them. Most likely the prospect of taking a Modern Woman for their wife would put them off the hunt.”
Refusing to rise to his bait, she asked, “Why do you suppose Father requested secrecy, even from your brother and Lord Alwyck?”
An odd look passed over his face. “I’ve no way of knowing what was in his mind. Perhaps he suspects that someone in this area-including my brother or Gordon, or perhaps both of them-were somehow involved in the jewels’ disappearance.”
Victoria stared. “Do you think they were involved?”
“No.” The word came out sharply, and he raked his hand through his hair. “No,” he repeated in a milder tone, “but the point is, I wasn’t to discuss this with anyone, so now I must have your promise that you will not do so.”
“What if Lords Sutton or Alwyck specifically ask me?”
“Hmmm. Yes, that could present a problem. Best you avoid their company whenever possible. Pity, especially as they both seemed quite taken with you.”
She couldn’t tell if he was serious or jesting. “Avoid the company of two handsome, eligible men, especially when they both, as you say, seemed quite taken with me? I’m not enamored of that idea at all. Even if I were, given that I’m a guest in your family’s home and Lord Alwyck is clearly a frequent visitor here, I couldn’t very well avoid them entirely.”
“Then if asked, change the subject,” he said, sounding testy. “Claim the headache. Or the vapors. Lay your hand across your brow and call weakly for your hartshorn.”
Insufferable man. Oh, he was attractive and sinfully well-versed in the art of kissing, but insufferable nonetheless. Before she could firmly inform him that she wasn’t prone to headaches or the vapors, voices sounded in the corridor.
“I’ll have your word not to mention this, Victoria.” His voice was a low, deep command.
“Very well. Consider my lips sewn closed.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Now that would be a dreadful waste,” he murmured, so softly she wasn’t even certain he’d said the words. Before she could decide, he gathered the papers and slipped them from the desk. Seconds later a smiling Aunt Delia sailed through the open library doorway, followed by Nathan’s father. “I cannot believe the duke would say such a scandalous-”
Her aunt’s animated words cut off when she saw Nathan and Victoria. “There you both are,” she said, heading straight for the desk. “I’ve the most wonderful news.”
That would explain the rosy tint staining her aunt’s cheeks, the glow in her eyes, and her wide smile. Aunt Delia loved nothing more than imparting news.
“While Lord Rutledge and I were returning from our stroll in the garden, we came across Lord Alwyck, who was returning to his estate,” Aunt Delia said. “He has invited us all to dine with him this evening at Alwyck Hall. Isn’t that marvelous? You simply must wear your new aqua gown, Victoria. You’ll want to look your best, and the color is exquisite on you.” She turned to Nathan. “You should see her in aqua, Dr. Oliver. It’s a sight to behold.”
Heat flared in Victoria’s cheeks. Good Lord, what on earth was Aunt Delia saying?
“I shall count the hours,” Nathan said solemnly, “although I’m certain that Lady Victoria wears every color well. As would you, Lady Delia.”
A noise that could only be described as a girlish giggle came from Aunt Delia, and Victoria stared at her aunt in amazement. “Why, thank you, Dr. Oliver.”
Nathan’s father cleared his throat. “Speaking of attire…” he shot a pointedly raised brow at Nathan’s lack of a jacket and cravat.
Nathan pushed back his chair and rose. “If you will all excuse me, I have some correspondence-”
“And a cravat,” his father intoned.
“-to attend to. I’ll see you all this evening.” He bowed, then strode toward the door, the vellum papers now folded over in one hand.
This evening? Victoria watched him leave the room with the letter and map and wondered exactly what he planned to do between now and then.
Nathan sat in Gordon’s drawing room after dinner and tried to concentrate on the inlaid chessboard set between him and his father, but his attention was focused on the same thing it had been all through the interminable evening.
Victoria.
The torture had commenced three hours and seventeen minutes ago-the instant he’d seen her walking down the stairs toward the foyer where he stood, alone, waiting for the rest of the group to gather to travel to Gordon’s estate. Dressed in a pale aqua muslin gown with short, puffed sleeves and a low, square-cut neckline, her shiny curls twined with ribbon and arranged in a becoming Grecian knot, she moved slowly and gracefully down the wide staircase, as if gliding on air, like a gorgeous sea nymph from a Botticelli painting. She was precisely what her aunt had said she’d be. A sight to behold.
Their gazes met, and she hesitated on the steps, one gloved hand gracefully holding the oak banister while her other hand settled on her stomach, as if to calm a sudden fluttering there. Was it similar to the bewildering commotion the sight of her set up in his own stomach? Although he’d never considered himself a fanciful man, he swore that in that instant something passed between them. Something warm and intimate, and certainly on his part filled with a longing he could neither explain nor deny.
He watched her draw a slow, deep breath, his gaze drawn to the delicate hollow at the base of her throat, which deepened as she inhaled… that fascinating bit of vulnerable skin he knew felt like a swatch of velvet and was scented with the hint of roses. She blinked several times, breaking the spell that seemed to have been cast between them. She then resumed her descent, but had taken no more than two steps when Colin spoke softly from directly behind him. “Exquisite, isn’t she?”
Nathan forced his posture to remain casual, but didn’t bother to turn around. He didn’t want to see the stark admiration he knew would be evident in Colin’s gaze. And he refused to give Colin the opportunity to see the stark longing he suspected still lingered in his own gaze. “Exquisite,” he murmured in agreement, as it was fruitless to deny anything so obvious.
“Pity she has those suitors in London,” Colin whispered. “Of course, I wouldn’t let that stop me.”
Nathan turned around at that. Colin was staring up the staircase with an expression of rapt fascination.
“Stop you from what?” Nathan asked through clenched teeth.
“From going after what I wanted.” He shifted his gaze from Victoria to Nathan. “And making certain I acquired it.” With that, he stepped around Nathan and moved to the bottom of the stairs. Extending his hand toward Victoria, who’d nearly reached the bottom, Colin said, “Lady Victoria, how lovely you look.”
It was not a promising beginning to the evening.
The torture had then continued during the carriage ride to Gordon’s estate. Victoria had sat between her aunt and Colin, while Nathan and his father sat opposite the trio. Colin spent the entire ride regaling the group with some story about what, Nathan had no idea, other than to guess it was apparently quite humorous based on the ensuing laughter. No, he’d been too busy trying-with no success whatsoever-not to notice Victoria smiling at Colin. Her melodic laugh at something he said. The way Colin’s thigh was pressed against hers in the close confines of the carriage. How his shoulder brushed hers with every bump in the road.
His stomach had clenched with an unpleasant sensation that couldn’t be called anything other than what it was: jealousy. It had been some time since he’d experienced the emotion, and he wasn’t happy that it was snaking through him now. And he especially didn’t like that it was his brother inspiring these envious feelings. While he couldn’t deny that he and Colin had occasionally competed while growing up, as brothers were wont to do, they’d rarely done so over anything other than racing their horses or a backgammon board, as their interests were so different. They’d never competed over a woman, as their tastes differed greatly in that area as well. Colin had always preferred aristocratic women, while Nathan’s tastes ran more toward women who didn’t put on Society’s airs. He was attracted to women whose interests reached beyond fashion, gossip, and the weather. In truth, he’d always preferred to spend an evening conversing with a homely bluestocking than engaging in small talk with the most beautiful woman in the room.
Until now, it seemed.
Victoria, with her lofty position in Society and all that entailed, her expensive clothing, her beauty, her numerous suitors who undoubtedly hung on her every word, epitomized the exact opposite of the sort of woman he preferred. Yet, he
couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Couldn’t squelch the remembrance of kissing her. Touching her. Couldn’t control the deep ache of want and lust she inspired.
The torture hadn’t lessened at all during dinner-in fact it worsened with the addition of Gordon, who was also clearly besotted with Victoria. And she seemed extremely flattered by his regard. While she basked in the glow of the attention both Colin and Gordon showered upon her, Nathan’s father and Lady Delia kept up a lively discussion between themselves, leaving Nathan with a great deal of time to observe everyone and eat a meal that he supposed was delicious but tasted like sawdust.
And naturally the torture had continued when, after the interminable meal, the group retired to the drawing room for games. Nathan had been sorely tempted to fabricate an excuse to depart, but after Victoria, her aunt, Colin, and Gordon decided to play whist, Nathan’s father had invited him to share a brandy and a turn at the chessboard. Given the tension between him and his father, the invitation had both surprised and pleased him, and he’d accepted. While he was in no mood for chess, the brandy had sounded extremely welcome, as did the opportunity to perhaps ease the awkwardness between them.
Yet now, working his way through his second brandy, and though he stared at the chessboard, all his attention remained focused on the laughing group across the room. Giving up all hope of concentrating on the game, he moved his rook.
Based on his father’s raised brows, he judged he’d made an unwise move, which was proven seconds later when his father said, “You seem to have lost your skill for this game, Nathan.”
“Er, not at all. I’m setting an elaborate trap from which you will not escape.”
Doubt was written all over his father’s face. Another burst of laughter came from across the room, and Nathan’s gaze involuntarily shifted to the merry whist players. After he pulled his vision back to his own disastrous game in progress, he noticed that his father’s attention remained fixed across the room with a speculative expression.
Not Quite A Gentleman Page 15
