The Casanova Code

by Donna MacMeans

  “No,” he said. “I believe I’ll stay close. You might have questions about what you see. I’d like to explain anything you find confusing.”

  Christopher! Now how was she going to get him to leave? “You answered all my questions the last time we were here,” she replied sweetly.

  “But now you’ll be viewing new prints, and you might have new questions,” he insisted.

  She sighed. It appeared that avenue was at an end.

  Selecting one of the pillow books from the boxes, she sat on the mattress in the back of the room. It was the only seat and her legs were shaking so much with anxiety that she didn’t want to risk standing. Ashton selected another book and sat near. Not near enough to bump against her, but close enough to see the pages she turned. Page after page flashed by with vividly detailed depictions of an activity that she should know nothing about but with which she was becoming exceedingly familiar. No secret notes hid in the binding. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. The notes had probably been removed before the books were placed in this room. Their activity here as it related to helping to decipher the code would be meaningless. Still, she needed a diversion of some sort so she could return the netsuke.

  The repetitious nature of the prints rendered them boring after a short period. She’d gone through five books when she paused at a print that showed a man suckling a woman’s breast. Her own tingled and peaked as she imagined Ashton making similar ministrations. No wonder the woman’s face clearly revealed her enjoyment.

  “Does that print interest you, Edwina?”

  His voice, so soft and seductive, teased her ear with such fervor, she wasn’t certain if he spoke, or if she had dreamed his words. But his fingers trailing down the outside of her arm confirmed that he wasn’t searching for messages.

  “Look at the woman’s face,” he said. “Look at how she enjoys the man’s touch. Can you see how her nipple reaches for his lips? Did you know the tips of a woman’s breasts are highly sensitive? Have you experienced a man’s touch there, my sweet?”

  Her eyes closed, allowing the combined force of his mesmerizing voice and his titillating touch to turn her veins into molten honey. “Yes . . .” she responded to his first question. She’d noticed the depiction of the cherry nipples reaching for attention, especially as her own seemed to follow suit. She must have a vivid imagination to envision so clearly the jolt of sensation in that print, or maybe it was Ashton’s hand on her breast that made it so real.

  She couldn’t recall the rest of his questions. Who could when caught in such a maelstrom of sensation? Her answer caused Ashton a moment of hesitation, then a sudden increased urgency. He pressed her back on the mattress, the pillow book slipping to the floor. He kissed her neck, while massaging the rise beneath her silk blouse. Somehow in the confusion of lips and sighs, fingers and gasps, her buttons slipped from their moorings, allowing her skin to receive the direct press of his lips.

  “Did he touch you like this?” Ashton asked, scooping her right breast free of the restraints of corset and cover. His lips latched onto her sensitive nipple, his tongue and teeth teasing the sensitive nub in a manner she’d never imagined. She peeked at him through lowered lashes. Just the sight of him at her breast unleashed a pooling in the area the woman of the netsuke knew well. His hand wound beneath her skirts, slips, and drawers with a determination that implied experience. Something of which she clearly had none. Dear Lord, she never imagined . . .

  She tried to say “no,” but the sound that issued from her lips was more of a moan. His fingers slipped over her nether hairs and found what they were seeking. How to describe the feeling?

  Her back arched as his fingers urged her to some unknown conclusion of inexpressible magic. Her own explorations had been pleasant, but this combined attack on breast and below . . . A sudden blossoming of feeling unleashed from that region, spreading waves of calming titillation through her entire body. She sagged back to the mattress, spent, though she hadn’t actually done anything. Her eyes slowly opened.

  “Did you shatter so prettily for your Mr. Thomas?”

  Ashton stood and moved to unfasten his trousers to relieve the bulge formed there.

  “Walter? What are you saying?” She almost giggled at the thought. “Walter has never touched me so. I’m not certain he knows how.”

  Ashton frowned down at her, his voice demanding. “You said someone did. Who?”

  She pushed her skirts back from around her knees. “I said no such thing. No one has touched me as you have.” She scowled up at him. “I resent the suggestion that they have.”

  “Ash?” Matthew’s small voice sounded in the library. “Are you in here?”

  They both stilled. The door connecting the gallery to the library stood open.

  Edwina sat up, slipping her breast beneath her serviceable stays. Her fingers quickly worked the buttons back into their holes. “You said—”

  “Stay here,” Ashton commanded. “I’ll take care of this.” He walked toward the secret door.

  This was her chance! Edwina hunted for her reticule on the floor. Once she discovered it, she slipped over to the shelves, fishing in it for the netsuke. Her arm outstretched, she was about to set it on the shelf with the others when Ashton returned.

  “Edwina?” His face, at first confused, deepened into a scowl. “What are you doing?”

  “I was just—”

  “Are you stealing one of my father’s netsukes?” He stared at her in disbelief. “Is that why you inquired about their price?”

  “No,” she insisted, placing the piece on the shelf. “This fell in my parasol the last time we were here. I was trying to return it.”

  “If that were true you would have given it to me earlier.” His face contorted, distaste curling his nostrils. “I thought you were different. I thought I could trust you.” He advanced until he stood directly in front of her. “Constance might have her faults, but at least she wasn’t a petty thief.”

  She slapped him. “I’m not a thief. I would have returned it earlier, but it rolled beneath the furniture and I couldn’t find it.” Her explanation sounded feeble, but she was so flustered. What was she to do? “I came here tonight to help you look for more coded messages and you took advantage of the situation.” She struggled to finish buttoning the final buttons of her blouse. “If anyone should be angry, it should be me.”

  She pushed past him and ran into the library, then began down the passageway. Before she’d reached the end she saw Matthew toting a book, or rather, Matthew spotted her.

  “Miss Hargrove!” he cried. “Could you read to me? Miss Jordan is gone and Ash says he can’t at the moment and—”

  “Edwina!” She spun around. Ashton, the imprint of her hand still red on his face, held her cloak. “You forgot this.”

  As she returned to fetch her cloak, she heard movement behind her. Ashton lifted his gaze. Instinctively, she turned to see a footman crossing at the front of the house toward the front door.

  “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.

  • • •

  ASHTON 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.”

  • Sixteen •

  TRAPPED. TRAPPED 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, lis
tening 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.

  • • •

  “EDWINA. WAKE 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.”