Sarah shut her room door with a sigh before turning toward the desk and pausing to rub her eyes. Aunt Mabel enjoyed the evening reading, and Sarah could honestly say she quite enjoyed it as well. Reading, and reading aloud, had always been some of her favorite pastimes, but the rest of her family didn’t enjoy the activity as much as she did, letting it fall into disuse as an evening diversion. She found herself enjoying the relaxing evenings after dinner with Aunt Mabel, but her eyes had begun to protest the continual exertion. Moving over to her desk, she picked up her glasses and set them in place. She would try to remember tomorrow to stop by her room to get them before joining Aunt Mabel in the sitting room. She’d gotten so far out of the habit at home, she hadn’t thought of it until her eyes began to strain and falter in their focus.
Blinking and hoping the use of the eyeglasses would stave off her encroaching headache, she reached for the pins securing her hair. Between relieving the strain on her eyes and releasing the tension of her hair on her scalp, she hoped she might avoid a repeat of the pain she experienced the night before. Removing the pins from her hair and setting them into a small porcelain dish on the desk, she moved the dish to her dressing table before reaching for the front buttons of her dress.
She’d packed a variety of simple dresses easy to manipulate herself without the aid of a maid, having long since transferred her more intricate gowns into travel trunks in preparation of going home. The simpler dresses also accommodated the fact they had already sent some staff back home. It served the same purpose now in that she avoided the need to bother Sir Thomas’ staff for help in her preparations. The man kept a minimal staff as it was and even his aunt lacked a dedicated ladies’ maid. She would hate to add burden to her presence by making unnecessary requests.
She’d only unfastened the first two buttons before a low male voice sounded from a darkened corner of her room.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
She spun around with gasp, eyes open wide as she clutched at her bodice to keep the now gaping panels of her dress in place.
That she failed to shriek in fright surprised her, but she guessed her subconscious recognized the voice before she turned and her beleaguered eyes were able to make out the form of Sir Thomas.
“Sir Thomas! What are you doing here?”
He stepped out from the darkened corner with a smile. “I’ve just asked you that same question, haven’t I? But from my perspective, I live here. That doesn’t answer the question as to why you are here.”
Some odd quality tinged his voice, a depth and low cautionary rumble which set some invisible heartstrings into motion in her and roused the butterflies heretofore lying dormant in her belly. His features were as relaxed and kind as she’d always known them to be, but an unrecognizable warmth suffused his eyes, a shade darker in the dim light of her room, and his movements spoke of a predatory tension.
“I—” She stammered, mesmerized by his stance, at once both calm and poised for some unexpected movement. “Your aunt sent a note to my family’s home asking if we’d heard anything from you.”
She caught only a glimpse of his bemused expression as a dip in his gaze reminded her of her state of dress, and she hurriedly turned around to re-fasten the buttons she’d undone.
“Requesting information,” He repeated, blessedly from somewhere a few paces further away. “Not companionship?”
Sarah took breath and turned around to face Sir Thomas again, hoping the flush on her cheeks wasn’t as noticeable as it felt. “Surely you can’t be that angry with me, Sir Thomas, you must know how anxious your aunt is on your behalf.”
He bowed his head and shifted further into the dim corner from whence he’d materialized, a look of regret passing over his features. “Indeed, I feared the consequences having to make such a swift disappearance might have on her constitution. A portion of me is extremely grateful to you for having taken it upon yourself to see to her welfare, but another part is loudly clamoring that you should not have gotten involved.” He faced her directly, a stark seriousness taking over both his countenance and his bearing. “This is precisely the sort of complication I don’t need at the moment.”
“Sir Thomas, there is no harm in my—”
“There is potentially a great deal of harm in your being here,” He insisted, though his tone lacked harshness. “Your presence here links you and your family more readily with me, not an ideal situation at present. Additionally, I can’t imagine Eric is pleased with your being here.
She ducked her head. “No, he’s not. But both of us care a great deal about Aunt Mabel, and I was able to sway him on her account.”
“Again, I thank you for your good intent, but I must insist that you leave. Rejoin your family immediately.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. She knew Sir Thomas would be no more inclined to host her in his home than Eric had been to allow it, but she refused to let the ongoing feud between the two men impact her own task at hand. Aunt Mabel’s note did more than spark a sense of sympathy or duty toward the elderly woman who’d always been kind to her, it provided an opportunity. Perhaps her last opportunity, to make Sir Thomas aware of her.
Perhaps she should have listened to Eric, taken the lack of notice for what it was and given up, but her heart never allowed her to. She’d never been known for any great shows of courage, but she intended to take a stand in this. If her presence here and her interaction with Sir Thomas perpetuated his lack of interest, she could finally admit to her heart that no hope remained. But until she made that effort, she feared she would never be able to move forward from this love she’d allowed to grow unpruned.
“Sir Thomas,” she began, frantically searching her mind for a plausible excuse which might extend her stay. “Do you anticipate how long it might take before you are able to return home?”
He hesitated, not meeting her gaze. “No, I don’t.”
“Then how can you abandon your aunt to her solitude? It couldn’t be helped before, you had no idea of what would befall you in such a short amount of time, but now you know your situation and you know an indefinite span of time lies ahead of you.” She swallowed, taking his silence as encouragement, and continued in a rush. “You care deeply for your aunt and her welfare, you must realize she would be heartbroken and lose her spark for life if she had to deal with the double blow of not having you and not having any idea of what her future might hold.”
In his corner, Sir Thomas pressed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest, angling away from the words which wounded him.
“You can’t assign her a companion now without giving away your own position. I know and understand that position. You know, I hope, that you can trust me to remain silent on your behalf. I possess the ability and time to spend with your aunt and care for her as though she were my own family.” Sarah paused, every fiber of her being tinged with anticipation.
Sir Thomas pursed his lips, debating her remarks. “I appreciate your honesty, and I admit my impulse is to permit you to stay, but I can’t allow your welfare to weigh on my conscience as well.”
Stubborn male pride. This was a familiar foe Sarah had a good deal of experience with. She barely suppressed a grin as she allowed her sense of independence and self-worth full rein, making her argument with enough conviction to catch his attention and raise his brows. “Then don’t allow it to. My welfare is my own concern. I was under no obligation to come here and understood the risks in doing so.”
Sir Thomas considered her words, his eyes angling toward the door, likely in response to thoughts of his aunt. When he responded, the words seemed wrenched from him, but sparked a sense of glee in Sarah all the same.
“You may stay for the present, but I suggest you keep your valise at the ready.” He stormed past her and out of the room, thankfully not taking note of the smile spreading across her lips.
Chapter 6
Thomas released the doorknob gently as he entered Sarah’s room, wondering at the ease wi
th which his guest room had taken on the title in his mind, as though the space had always belonged to her. The decor and furnishing remained as they always had, yet what had always functioned as a nondescript notation on the blueprint of his home had taken on a subtle vibrancy, taken on the living spirit of its occupant somehow. So much so, Thomas now felt like an intruder in this portion of his home, disturbing its sanctity.
He couldn’t say what drew him to return other than a desire for reassurance. His efforts thus far to unravel the details of what Graham had told him had garnered little. He needed some sense of hope to continue and Sarah shone like a beacon in the darkness of his despair.
Finding himself outside his townhome almost before realizing he headed toward it, he made his way to the sitting room with little forethought, confirming that his aunt was preparing to retire to her rooms before charting a course for the guest room. Taking the stool from the vanity, he repositioned it near the hearth, in line with the door and ensuring Sarah would see him upon entering the room.
He hadn’t meant to remain hidden as long as he had the other day, he’d fallen into the habit of concealing himself and by the time he realized Sarah hadn’t noticed his presence he’d become entranced by her movements. It began with simple concern when she rubbed her eyes and showed weariness. He hesitated then, briefly debating whether he should have left her be, but there was no exiting the room again once she entered. He opened his mouth to announce his presence, but she perched her glasses on her nose and reached for her hairpins.
Something in the way the polished brass of her spectacle frames and the golden hues of her hair glinted in the low firelight caught his attention and held it. The way her slender fingers moved to remove each pin in succession and lay it carefully onto the dish on her desk took on the artistic qualities of a stage production meant to captivate and entice. Before he knew what he was about, he’d practically stopped breathing as he stared in wonder, his mouth hanging agape. She released those lustrous golden curls to fall down her back and dove her fingers into their midst to massage her scalp. For some unknown reason, his fingers began to itch to do the work for her.
That realization caused him to blink in confusion and delay his announcement even further. What in the world was coming over him? These sorts of feelings cropped up rarely enough for him when in the presence of beautiful ladies, but this was Eric’s sister. He’d known her for years. Not to say she lacked beauty, all the Langdon daughters held their own charm, but he’d never looked at any of them with any emotion other than brotherly caring. Indeed, Sarah had been little more than a girl when he first befriended Eric and began visiting the Langdon home. He took almost no notice of her at all in comparison to her older sisters who were much more vibrant in their personalities, and therefore always a source of entertainment.
Not until she reached for the closures of her bodice did his mind click into a state of self-preservation, as he realized the danger his continued silence might bring and finally forced his tongue into motion to reveal his presence. Tonight, he harbored no desire to repeat that mistake. Clearing his throat, he shifted on the seat a moment before giving it up and standing to pace in anticipation of Sarah’s arrival.
She entered but a moment later, thankfully having allowed her eyes to scan the room for him. How she knew to do so when he left her with no indication of when or if he would return, he wasn’t sure, but her vigilance didn’t surprise him. He had taken note over the years she was possibly the most observant of the Langdons.
“Sir Thomas,” she acknowledged
“Miss Langdon,” he nodded, both of them frozen in place in their laughable parody of formality within the confines of her bedchamber.
“Did you learn anything new?” She began. “Have you a better idea now of how long it will be before you can come home?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve met with only partial success. On my last visit, I retrieved a small journal in which I’d taken notes on what Graham shared with me of the coding he uses in his journals. That information was helpful in bringing me up to a crucial point in his notes, but it appears that within the last year he altered his method of coding to encompass a less obvious pattern.” The explanation flowed from him as easily as though he’d actively planned on sharing it with Sarah, working to set his nerves at ease.
“What do you mean?” She asked, moving across to the desk and taking a seat.
“Previously, he used a series of alphanumeric substitutions to create a coded version of his notes. I remember him complaining at one point that although this proved effective for the moment, it was not likely to deter a determined adversary for long. He apparently came up with the idea of using word substitutions, in which he would write journal entries seemingly of mundane events and observations, but the wording would be representative of other words entirely. As I don’t have a companion decipher for his newer system, I was forced to try to puzzle out his meaning based on what I know of him and how he created his previous entries. I was able to sort through a good portion of it successfully I believe, but there are later entries which I still grapple with.”
“Would you allow me to take a look at it?” She asked, causing Thomas to look up in surprise.
“More points of view are often more effective in solving puzzles than one,” she clarified.
Thomas shook his head. “In most cases, you would be correct, but in my line of work, multiple viewpoints become dangerous. I told you I don’t like the idea of you staying here. The more you know of what I’m doing, the more dangerous it is for you.”
“And yet, the faster you decipher this code, the faster you can insist that I return home.” She challenged.
Thomas smiled. “You are an irritation in the best sense; a trait I admire in all of your family. But I still can’t allow you to become involved.”
She pursed her lips and a small thrill of excitement surfaced in him, anticipating her next challenge. He had no idea Sarah could provide such sparing matches.
“Wasn’t much of the point of your frequent visits to the Langdon home to discuss work with Eric?” She asked. “I assume the two of you working together proved more efficient than either of you working alone.”
Thomas’ mood shifted, and she furrowed her brow at him. He let out a sigh. “That was precisely the problem for us in the end, wasn’t it? I lacked the ability to independently complete my own tasks,” he admitted, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “And I used your brother’s talents to advance my own position.”
“Did you truly use him?” She asked softly, looking up at him. “Or were you trying to do just this, exchange ideas, with only the end result being poorly played out?”
Thomas stared at her. Were his thoughts so transparent they could be read like newsprint across his face? He’d been asking himself the same questions ever since the night Eric unequivocally barred him from the Langdon home.
“Allow me to maintain my faith that your intentions were good,” she soothed quietly. “Let me help.”
“And if you come to the same conclusions about me as your brother?” he rasped, an unfamiliar tightening taking up in his throat.
“Then in this case none of the blame will fall to you. You’ve given me sufficient warning.”
Heart taking up an anxious tattoo, Thomas stepped cautiously in her direction. Reaching into his breast pocket, he produced one of the journals he managed to steal from Graham’s home. Finding the place had taken some effort, but the authorities had given up interest in the building after their initial search, locking and boarding the empty flat for the duration of the investigation rather than posting any lingering sentries. It hadn’t taken Thomas long to discern the hiding spots for Graham’s journals.
Gripping the small tome in a final moment of uncertainty, he inhaled sharply before thrusting the book in Sarah’s direction and hoping he hadn’t just made a mistake.
“Did this Mr. Cartwright have a country home?” Sarah sent out the weary, mumbled question to forest
all Thomas’ renewed insistence that she give up her efforts. He tried to thank her for her attempt and leave a good half hour before, but she convinced him to give her more time.
The actual time had long since passed any reputable hour, but rereading the same passages several times now convinced her she’d struck upon something noteworthy.
Thomas shook his head. “I had that same thought. You found the passage which speaks of ‘summer days of languid delight’ I presume?”
Sarah nodded.
“I thought the same, but Graham could scarcely afford his small flat most months, I don’t know that he so much as visited the country above two or three times his entire life.”
“Odd,” Sarah mused. “It seems so straight forward. ‘Mother keeps an ear toward her children’s antics, bemused, her gaze fixed upon the invitation list…’”
“A portrait,” Thomas supplied. “Pointing to the hiding place of the list of names he compiled.”
“Yes, exactly.” Sarah nodded. Thomas explained earlier that Graham’s notes indicated he’d been creating a list of agents he suspected of working against England, either knowingly or as a consequence of their association with the main culprit he’d been trying to ferret out. “And he makes quite clear this list is in some other home.”
“It does sound that way,” Thomas rubbed at his eyes. “But I’ve found no indication of him living anywhere else, to include the homes of friends or lovers. He’d all but become a recluse after the accusations against him and his narrow escape from imprisonment.”
“Has he any family?”
“Not outside of…” Thomas paused and looked up at her, eyes wide. “I’m an idiot.”
A Clandestine Affair (Currents of Love Book 5) Page 5
