The King's Code (The Lady Spies Series #3): A Regency Historical Romance (14 page)

~

Embarrassed
, Seamus returned to the office late that afternoon, praying that it was empty so that he might pack up his desk in peace.

But it was not.

“Afternoon, James,” he said to Mister Habernathy’ s back as the secretary packed the contents of Juliet’s desk into a small wooden trunk. “What are you doing?”

“Good afternoon, Mister McCurren.” His amiable secretary’s tone was curt and far from welcoming. “I spoke with his lordship this morning,” James continued, having yet to turn round. “And I am emptying Lady Juliet’s desk as per his request.”

“Lady Juliet’s?” James had gotten it all wrong. “No, it is not Lady Juliet who is leav---”

The trunk was slammed over his words and James Habernathy walked directly in front of him, eyeing him with a look of immense disappointment.

“I must say, I found the news disturbing as I have seen firsthand the strides Lady Juliet has made in decrypting this most recent French code.”

Seamus felt as though he had been struck in the gut, but he could not explain his motives for removing himself from this office, from removing Juliet from his reach.

“As have I, which is why I offered
my
resignation to his lordship,” Seamus explained, trying to sound reasonable.

“You resigned?”

“Yes!” He nodded, angry. “You’re packing the wrong desk.”

“But I don’t understand.” James stared at the trunk on Juliet’s desk as if he had no idea how it had gotten there. “His lordship said that Lady Juliet would be leaving the Foreign Office and returning to a life more befitting her station.”

Oh, damn! Falcon had gotten rid of his reason for resigning.

Stunned, he sank into Juliet’s chair as James continued to talk. “But I must say, Lady Juliet did not look as though she wished to return to a life of leisure. She looked absolutely murderous.”

Mister Habernathy held his eye and Seamus tried not to flinch.

“Let’s just get on with it, shall we,” Seamus sighed. He had done the honorable thing. “Falcon has made his choice.” And Seamus would do his best to convince the old man that he’d made the wrong choice.

“Yes, Mister McCurren.” His secretary’s cool formality punctuated the growing distance between them.

Seamus spent the remainder of a very long afternoon arguing with Falcon and then looking over the E markers. His “distraction” had been removed and the old man refused to reinstate her, leaving only Seamus to decrypt the code.

It was blackmail, pure and simple. He should bloody well tell the old man to stuff his commission, but he knew if he did that, it would be British troops who would pay the price.

At six o’clock, Seamus gathered his greatcoat and walked to the stables, angry and distracted. He called for his horse and rode through St. James’s Park to clear his muddled head.

It seemed as though Juliet’s absence throughout the day had caused him to think of nothing but the lady herself.

His lordship was correct, of course. She was back where she belonged, in the arms of the
haute ton
, protected from such ugly things as war and death . . . and him.

He closed his eyes, knowing how easy it would be to seduce her and how much he wanted to do just that.

Frustrated, Seamus slid off his horse, climbed the stairs to his home, and headed straight for a hot bath. But it was no good; every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, felt her lips pressed to his. He sat down for dinner, and in the silence, he heard her voice.

He placed a piece of lamb in his mouth and chewed, confused.

He did hear her voice!

Seamus pushed his chair back from the table and walked silently to the door, concentrating on the ruckus in his entryway.

“I’m afraid Mister McCurren is unavailable this evening, Lady Juliet,” his beleaguered butler explained as per his orders.

Seamus pressed his ear to the door so that he would not miss a word of what the lady had to say.

“I’m sure that if Mister McCurren knew I was here”—Juliet sounded angry—“he would gladly see me.”

Nothing could be further from the truth.

“I am sorry, my lady.”

“You mean to say . . .” Seamus could almost see the fire billowing from her nostrils as she spoke. “That you are refusing to notify Mister McCurren of my presence in his home.”

“As I’ve said”—the brave butler held his ground— “Mister McCurren is unavailable this evening.”

“I know Mister McCurren is in residence, I can smell his dinner!”

Seamus glanced at his plate of traitorous lamb and then walked on tiptoes to resume his seat lest the wee woman hear him and barge into the dining room with his footmen attempting to hold her at bay.

“Perhaps, if you were to come back tomorrow . . .”

There was a long silence and Seamus stared at the brass doorknob just waiting for it to turn.

“No,” Juliet said. “I don’t think I will come back tomorrow.”

The front door closed and Seamus sat back in his chair, relieved. It had been a long, difficult day and all he wanted to do was finish his meal and go to bed.

Seamus was just lifting his silver spoon to enjoy his dessert when a painted white brick came flying through the window. It slid the length of the new mahogany table, scratching it the entire way, before coming to rest three inches from his custard, which was still jiggling from the shaking of the now ruined table.

Seamus looked through the shattered window at the madwoman in the street, as she shouted, “If you are going to behave like a child, then so shall I.”

“William! Let her in,” he ordered, sure that the other window would be next if he did not.

“Yes, sir.”

Seamus gazed at his custard, knowing he would never eat it, then pushed himself up from his chair. He stepped into the entryway, offering a polite smile to his insistent guest.

“Lady Juliet.” Seamus bowed with great exaggeration. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Mister McCurren,” she countered with a deep curtsy. “How lucky to find you at home.” Her eyes were ablaze and Seamus knew that he was in for it.

The lady took a long, deep breath, ready to unleash hell when Seamus held up his index finger. “We should do this someplace else.”
Not the study. Not the study.
“The parlor, perhaps?” He swept his arm in that direction and followed at a safe distance.

“Perfect,” she agreed.

The footmen opened the door and Seamus looked at them both, saying, “For your own safety, I suggest you clear the area. William, you also.”

“Is the lady unstable?” one of the lads asked in earnest.

“Oh, she’s mad, all right,” Seamus said, closing the parlor door like a man about to die.

≈

Juliet was shaking as she stared at the parlor fire, she was that angry.

How dare he have her dismissed from the Foreign Office! Who in God’s name did he think he was?

“Well.” Seamus’s rich baritone brogue skittered down her back. “Say what you’ve come to say so I can finish my dinner.”

Juliet turned, smiling as she said, “I’ve not come to say anything,” before slapping him across the face.

Seamus turned his head slowly to the left, rubbing his jaw as he stared down at her. “I suppose I should have expected that.”

“You had me dismissed!” Juliet shouted.

“I resigned!” Seamus protested. “It is not my fault that Falcon dismissed you.”

“You gave him an ultimatum!”

“I did no such thing.” He shook his head as he walked toward the parlor door. “What do you care anyway, it is not as though we work well together, as evidenced by this little exchange.”

“We made great progress, Seamus.”

He turned toward her, giving her a shimmer of hope.

“You made progress, I made progress. ‘We’”—he motioned with both hands—“just happened to be seated next to one another.”

“But we could make progress,” Juliet reasoned, knowing that Seamus was the only person able to have her reinstated at the Foreign Office. “Together. You and I?”

“Lass.” His beautiful eyes were kind, soft. “What happened last night was not . . . good. It’s distracting us both from our work.”

“Yes, and I apologized.” Juliet was so frustrated that she was about the cry. She swallowed hard, pressing back the lump in her throat. “If I promise never to kiss you again—”

“No, lass.” He wiped an errant tear from her cheek and Juliet felt as if she had been branded by the wet heat of his fingers. “I can’t work in the same office as you. I would be happy to keep you apprised of the progress we—”

“It’s not the same.” Juliet could see that he was trying to understand. “I’m a ruined woman, Seamus. There will be no teas, no musicals or balls unless hosted by my friends. I’ll never have a husband or children.”

“Surely, somebody will marry you.” He sounded as though she were a day-old selection of meats.

“Never mind,” she said, wounded and unwilling to expose herself further.

Juliet walked toward the door but Seamus gently grasped her arm. “I am trying to understand you, lass. Truly, I am.”

“This is all I have!” His beautiful lips parted, but he said nothing. Juliet pressed her advantage. “Please, let me work with you, Seamus.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head, letting go of her.

“You can’t or you won’t?” she spat, furious and frustrated.

“Don’t do this, Juliet.” He opened the parlor door and made for the staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

She watched him retreat from the foot of the staircase, his thighs flexing with each step, and then she laughed, desperate.

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?” Seamus was very near the first-floor landing and she had to run to catch up to him. “Aren’t you!”

He rolled his eyes and turned down the wide corridor with her at his heels.

“You’re scared that I will break the code before you do.” Juliet was sure she saw fear in his eyes. “That is why you had me dismissed.”

“I resigned!”

Seamus opened a door to their right, and when she tried to follow, he stopped, filling the doorway with his presence. He grasped her around the waist and lifted her, placing her in the corridor.

“That’s why you ‘resigned’ then?” Juliet demanded and he attempted to slam the door shut, but she barreled past him.

Juliet glanced around his bedchamber, his inner world. The deep burgundy drapes that hung from the canopy of his large four-poster bed would have dominated the room if Seamus had not been standing in it.

“Get out of my bedchamber!” He pointed to the door.

“Not until you admit that you’re scared of my abilities and that is the true reason you presented your ultimatum.”

“All right, lass,” Seamus said reluctantly. “I’m scared of your intellectual abilities and that is the true reason why I resigned from the Foreign Office. Might I go to bed now?”

It sounded rather silly when he said it aloud, but at least he had admitted it and she should leave. Juliet watched him remove his shirt, his muscled chest as beautiful as she remembered. “You don’t mean what you just said.”

“Aye, I do.” Seamus was popping the buttons of his buckskins as he spoke to her. He was trying to intimidate her just as he had the first time he kissed her. “I’m bloody terrified of you, Juliet. Now go home!”

But she wasn’t intimidated and she did not want to go home. “Say, ‘I’m afraid you will break the code before me.’”

“Christ Almighty, Juliet.” Seamus snapped his coverlet down and then placed both hands on his trim waist. “What do you want from me?”

Juliet walked over and looked up at him, pleading, “I want my position at the Foreign Office back, Seamus.”

“I can’t give it to you.”

“Then speak to Falcon.”

“I did. He refused to accept my resignation or reinstate you.”

“Then tell him you changed your mind.”

“No.” Seamus was shaking his head, not even considering the possibility.

“Why not!”

“Because I can’t work with you, Juliet.” His jaw was clenched and he was breathing heavily.

She was hurt, and her chin began to quiver, but she had to know. “Am I that difficult to work wit—”

“No.” He sounded frustrated as he shook his head.

“Is it because I’m a woman?”

“Aye.” Juliet looked down, disappointed, but he lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “I can’t work with you, Juliet, because every time you stand near me, I want to throttle you.” She seemed to have that effect on people. “Or kiss you.”

Juliet stared at him, stunned, and then managed to whisper, “I prefer being kissed.”

Seamus chuckled and Juliet kissed him, forgetting the topic of their conversation. All she could think about was his bare chest, his heat pressing against her. Her hands caressed his muscular shoulders and she smiled at the feel of his thick arms sliding around her waist. His head was bent as he kissed her and Juliet felt completely surrounded by his strength.