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

by Jacki Delecki

Elodie jumped up. “Madame. Men were following me.”

  Helene swept her hand in a vicious gesture. “Silence.”

  “Helene?” Amelia stood. A terrible realization spread through her with revolting speed.

  Helene gave a wicked laugh. The harsh hate-thickened sound pierced the silence. “I’m sure you’re more than surprised.”

  The stylish woman flicked her hand and then turned to lock the French doors.

  “Elodie, lock the outer door.” Helene’s voice was awful and ugly.

  Elodie stared at her superior, not comprehending her intent, but with a wave of the pistol and a glare, the girl did as she was bid.

  “You’re the French spy?” Amelia remained incredulous. Her mind was assimilating the obvious facts, but she couldn’t grasp them.

  Helene lowered her hood. Her dark hair was stylishly wound in coronet braids. She looked the part of any fashionable lady making her afternoon visits, not the mastermind of the French spies, or even the modiste she’d known for years.

  “Poor Amelia. You never suspected.”

  “You’re going to laugh, but I was trying to protect you.”

  “You are going to protect me.” Helene swept her maroon skirt to the side, as she strode closer.

  “You were my friend.” Amelia stared at the woman she thought she had known. The betrayal was bitter and bewildering.

  For a second the look in Helene’s eyes could’ve been hatred or pity. “Unfortunately, I’ve no sentiment for friendship. As I’ve told you, my life is about survival.”

  “I don’t understand,” Amelia said.

  “You’ll be my bargaining chip. I’m sure your good friend Lord Rathbourne will not let his wife’s best friend be killed.”

  Amelia’s heart punched against her chest in loud thuds. “You would kill me?”

  “Unfortunately, there are always sacrifices when you’re fighting a war.”

  “But why now?”

  “Maurice has been captured.”

  Elodie gasped. “Papa? No.” her last word trailed into whimpering sobs.

  “And it won’t be long before he’ll confess. They will tell him they’ll imprison his daughters and he’ll give me up.”

  Fear lodged into her throat. Amelia tried to back away, but her legs were against the settee. “If you leave now, you can escape. No one knows you’re involved.”

  “And how long before they’ll be searching for me at every port. Your life for my safe passage to France.” Helene gave another bitter laugh.

  Elodie’s sobbing made the tension in the room unbearable. Amelia needed to keep Helene’s focus on herself. She didn’t trust Helene not to retaliate against Elodie.

  “But your work, your shop. Won’t you miss it?”

  “Miss bowing and groveling to the English? Do you know how tired I am of pretending those British bitches have beauty and taste?”

  “You’ll return to France after all you suffered there? Or were those stories more of your lies?”

  “Napoleon’s France has been transformed with the end of the aristocrats. Before Napoleon, we were nothing better than slaves, barely able to eke out a living.”

  “I realize I never knew you. I thought we shared a love of fashion and art.”

  “I did like you. You were different. You never treated me as less, but survival gets down to you or me, and I’m not ready to die.”

  Amelia had never misjudged anyone this badly. Helene was acting as if abducting and killing her friend was normal behavior.

  “Time to move. Need to move forward.” Helene pulled out a small pistol from beneath her pelisse.

  Suddenly Amelia could barely hear above the roaring pulse pounding in her ears. She would die without ever loving Derrick, without bearing his children. She refused to be intimidated by a madwoman.

  “They’ll never allow you to escape.”

  “My dear, you underestimate your influence. Now get over here and start writing a note to Lord Rathbourne.”

  Terror hit Amelia square in the back of her neck and down her spine. She stood paralyzed.

  “Elodie, stop that wailing!” Helene pointed the gun at the young girl. “Sit down and shut up.”

  Terror-stricken, Elodie sat on the settee. The sound of her gulping, attempting to stifle any sounds, was pitiful.

  Amelia walked to her desk. Helene followed her. “You’ll direct them that once I’m safely aboard the Faucon, they’ll find a note at the Ship’s Aground, instructing them of your whereabouts. Warn them that if they interfere with my passage, they’ll never find you alive.”

  Gross and ugly rage stormed through Amelia. She searched her desk for something to use as a weapon. If she could surprise Helene, she might be able to knock the pistol out of her hand. Surprise was Amelia’s only advantage.

  Someone pounded on the door. A man’s voice—Derrick—shouted, “Amelia!”

  Helene turned toward the interruption, giving Amelia the chance to act. She lifted the statue of Minerva and with skills honed on the cricket field, she swung the statue like a bat and hit Helene on the arm, knocking the gun out of her hand as it discharged into the wall. Helene turned on Amelia; rage mottled her face as she grabbed Amelia by the neck.

  Amelia, instinctively, brought up her knee for a direct kick to the woman’s stomach as she wrestled the woman’s hands away from her throat.

  Helene gasped in pain and grabbed her abdomen in agony.

  Elodie rushed to unlock the door while Amelia fought with Helene. Derrick and Talley, both with pistols drawn, came rushing in.

  “Amelia!” Derrick shouted.

  Talley grabbed Helene by the arms pulling her away from Amelia, then he leveled his pistol at her.

  Stunned by the sudden release, Amelia stared at Derrick, unable to grasp that the crisis was over. He pulled her into his arms. “My God, she had you.”

  She could feel the terror in his taut body in the way he held her too tight. Amelia’s pounding heart matched Derrick’s in the same rapid, breathless way. Her knees were still shaky; she was so glad for Derrick’s arms.

  Derrick didn’t let go of Amelia. With open disgust, he spoke to Talley, “Get that vermin out of here. Take her to the Abchurch.”

  At that moment, two more armed men burst into the room. Talley handed Helene over to one of the muscular men. As they left, Helene kept her back straight and her neck regal as if she were being escorted to the opera or a soirée.

  “Keep your gun on her,” Talley said to the young man.

  Talley pointed with his head toward Elodie. “What about her?”

  “You’re Elodie Bargeron?” Derrick asked.

  Elodie stood, terrified. Her face was grey, her dark eyes wide with terror. She feebly nodded her head.

  Turning to Talley, Derrick said, “Take her to Abchurch for questioning.”

  Amelia tried to pull out of Derrick’s arms to reassure Elodie. He resisted and squeezed tighter. “I’m not letting you go.”

  Amelia looked into his wildly dilated eyes. She realized he needed to hold her as badly as she needed to be surrounded by his strength.

  “Elodie, these men will not hurt you. They need to ask you questions about your father.”

  Tears trickled down the young girl’s face. Amelia wanted to comfort her, but Derrick was not about to comply.

  “But my sisters, Miss. Who will take care of them?”

  “I will have your sisters brought here to my house. And when you’re done answering the questions, the men will bring you here to reunite with them. You and your sisters will be safe.”

  Elodie nodded her head. “Thank you, Miss.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brinsley wrapped Amelia in his arms and held her hard against him. He couldn’t tell who was shaking more. Her slight body was trembling and cold against him. His heart punched against his chest as if in danger of breaking through.

  Despite many treacherous missions, he had never endured danger with a precious loved one. He struggled to gain
control of his quaking body and raw feelings.

  “I’m glad you arrived when you did,” she said against his chest. She tried for a flippant tone, but he could hear the quiver in her voice.

  Brinsley shuddered in helpless rage. He tightened his hold, shielding her with his body. He was never going to let her go. The sound of the gunshot echoing behind a locked door before he could break it down would always be seared into his brain. He’d never forget the overpowering helplessness and the accompanying terror. “I was almost too late.”

  “Your entrance was the perfect distraction I needed to hit the gun out of her hand.”

  All the muscles in his body bunched rigid and he tried to suck air into his lungs. He couldn’t allow himself to think of how close he’d come to losing her. She was inexperienced and had no idea how violently a desperate person might act. He didn’t want her ever to experience the evil he had seen. And he didn’t want to destroy her confidence that she could have defended herself against a gun-wielding spy. It was his fault that she had been forced into this lethal situation.

  His thoughts were getting darker and gloomier with all the possible ways today could’ve become a deadly disaster.

  She snuggled closer to him as if she could read his morbid thoughts. “You’re so warm, and I’m so cold.”

  “You’re in shock.” He kept her locked to his body, trying to absorb her distress.

  “Yes, I do feel a bit wobbly.” Her voice and smile were shaky.

  He kissed her temple, then her cheek. “Come and sit down.”

  Holding her close, he led her to the settee. Once there, he carefully set her down, his hands smoothing, touching everywhere. His fingers lightly brushed her neck. “Did she hurt you?”

  “No, she didn’t want to hurt me. She wanted to use me as a bargaining chip to escape England.”

  He cursed under his breath. How did he allow himself to be blinded by Amelia’s faith in her friend? How had he become so complacent as to accept the information that the French spy was a man? He should’ve been more diligent.

  Amelia moved closer and ran her hand along his chest. “Derrick, you’re blaming yourself, aren’t you?”

  He looked down at her wan face. With her pale skin and pale lips, the fading bruises on her cheek stood out. She was so damn brave and so incredibly beautiful.

  He bent to kiss her, to warm those colorless lips. Suddenly, the door flew open once again and Betsy burst into the room.

  “Miss Amelia, are you okay? Stimson told me about Madame de Puis.” Betsy’s words tumbled out as she rushed toward them. “I can’t believe she tried to shoot you.” With her curls bobbing around her mobcap, the distressed maid acted as if she were about to throw herself into Amelia’s arms.

  Derrick wasn’t going to allow the entire household to upset Amelia. She had been through hell already without needing to comfort the staff.

  Amelia looked up at him and pleaded with those bright eyes for patience. How did she do it? He was known to be a fully competent spy, but Amelia deciphered his intentions easily. “Betsy, Madame de Puis didn’t plan to shoot me. Her gun discharged by accident.”

  “Oh, Miss.” Betsy put her hands to her face. “You could’ve been shot.”

  Derrick really didn’t want to rehash the horrific experience, and he definitely didn’t want Amelia to have to replay her friend’s betrayal.

  Betsy continued, struggling to regain her composure. “Stimson instructed me to see what your preferences were? Do you want me to summon your brothers? Call the doctor?”

  “Thank you, Betsy. I don’t believe there is any reason to disturb my brothers.”

  Amelia looked through her golden eyelashes at Derrick. Did she mean what he thought she did? The idea of them alone together had his body rigid with anticipation.

  “Do you want me to fetch the doctor?” Betsy’s apple cheeks had turned bright red with all the excitement. The young girl wanted to be of help to her mistress.

  “Thank you; I’m fine.” Amelia leaned into Derrick’s side. Her softness against him sent his heart drumming again, but for a very different reason this time. “But I do need you to find out where Elodie’s sisters are. You can ask Stimson to get the information. Take George with you and bring the girls here. Tell Mrs. Wells that we’ll have two young girls staying with us, and also Elodie when she returns later tonight.”

  Betsy nodded. Her youthful face became serious as she listened to her responsibilities. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing? Your bath has gone cold. I could fetch tea?”

  “No thank you, Betsy. I’m in good hands.” Amelia smiled up at Derrick, her tired eyes shining with adoration.

  The anger and fear Derrick had held in seemed to melt away and the empty space around his heart became filled instead with an unfamiliar warmth. Her battered face lit up for him. In her distress, she wanted only him.

  Betsy gazed innocently, first at Amelia, then at Derrick, then a cheeky smile bloomed on her face.

  “That will be all, Betsy,” Amelia said.

  Betsy bobbed and left.

  Finally alone, Derrick pulled Amelia back into his arms, rubbing his hands along her spine. He had to keep touching her. “I was wondering why your brothers hadn’t charged in here to rescue you.”

  “Parker and Jack are out, but they are planning on coming to the Foster Ball to meet you.”

  He stroked the back of his knuckles along her cheek. “You’re not going to a ball after what you just experienced.”

  She shook her head. Her eyes were clouded with the strain. “I can’t go and be with all the people.”

  “Of course not. You need to rest.”

  “Derrick, I don’t want to be alone.” She chewed on her lower lip.

  He had no plans to leave her tonight. He needed her too much.

  “If I’m alone, I’ll think about Helene. And I don’t want to think. Not tonight. It’s too awful. Too fresh.” Now that there were no more distractions, realization of the very real danger she’d been in could settle in. Her voice began to tremble with unshed tears and no longer needed adrenaline.

  He ran his hand up and down her arms to sooth her trembling and to reassure himself that she was whole. “Do you want Lady Gwyneth or Lady Henrietta to come and stay with you?”

  “Derrick, I want to be with you, only you.”

  “Honey, it’s what I want. I’ll take you to your room. I’ll get someone to rewarm your bath.” He was trying to be noble, but he didn’t want to be separated from her.

  “Forget the bath; I don’t want to be away from you, not even that long. It’s going to be hard to not think about…” She swallowed hard. Threatening tears turned her nose red. “She was my friend.”

  He looked at her ashen face, taking in the way her lower lip quavered.

  “Let me stay with you, Amelia. You can take some laudanum and I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

  She pulled out of his arms and tenderly held his face with her palm. “Derrick, I don’t need laudanum. I need only you.”

  She stared up at him, her violet eyes darkened with emotion. “You need me to comfort you, and I need you to comfort me.”

  His heart swelled against his chest, reacting to her tenderness and love. Did she have any idea what he needed for comfort—a primed male wanting to avenge the woman he loved?

  She traced his lips with a delicate finger. He was spellbound, standing immobile as primitive needs filled him. He was wired and ready to explode. She was an innocent. A virgin. And all he could think about was making her his in a very male way.

  “I know exactly what you need,” she whispered. “I need it too.”

  “You do?” His voice was husky and rough. Could she mean what he hoped?

  “You’re so tense and tight, and you’re blaming yourself for tonight. You need to relax. And I need to help you.”

  “Amelia, you’re not helping me relax with that sultry look in your eyes. I’m wound up tight.” She might be innocent, but sh
e was definitely a determined woman. His woman was no wilting flower.

  “You are?” There was a teasing tone in her voice as she pulled out every sensual weapon she knew of.

  “Shall I show you?” What he would like to show her, but not tonight. They’d have plenty of nights together. He brushed the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “I’m going to taste you here.”

  Her bright eyes widened with his touch.

  “Then I want to taste you here.” He brushed his knuckle over her left nipple.

  Her luscious lips opened and her breath came in short pants.

  He trailed his hands down her ribs and over her stomach. He stopped. He was going to be out of control if he continued to tell her explicitly how he wanted to taste and devour her.

  She swayed toward him. Breathless, she asked, “Can you show me upstairs in my bedroom?”

  “Honey, are you sure this is what you want? I’m not sure I can show much restraint tonight after what just happened.”

  “No restraint?” She pressed her soft curves against him, ratcheting his need. “You promise?” Her eager and mischievous tone was too much for a man barely in control.

  His blood surged like hot flames. “I’m showing incredible restraint right now.” Hell, he was a bloody saint. “I’ve wanted you since our first kiss.” His fear of losing her, and his basic male need to claim her, coalesced into a burning desire. It had never been like this before.

  He sealed his mouth over hers and showed her what he wanted, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth in unabashed hunger.

  She melted against him, her entire body slack in submission. He lifted her into his arms and carried her out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Amelia cuddled against Derrick’s muscular chest as he carried her up the long stairway. She could feel the pounding of his heart—steady and strong.

  Derrick had scanned the hallway for Stimson’s presence before carrying her up the stairs. After today’s calamity, she didn’t care if they were seen by the servants, she cared only about being with Derrick.

  Her friend’s betrayal fell by the wayside. Tonight she wanted Derrick’s comfort and love.