A Code of the Heart (The Code Breakers Series Book 3) (2 page)

“Be seated.” Ash pointed to one of the chairs.

Ashworth had earned a reputation as a fearless undercover agent. He didn’t look the least intimidated in the slightest by Brinsley’s larger size. He surpassed Ashworth by at least a head and outweighed him by five stone.

Brinsley strode to the chair and sat. His hands gripped the armrests. He had no choice but to wait. He surmised Ashworth’s dark looks and barely-controlled hostility were about a certain red-haired vixen.

Ashworth did not sit; instead he paced like a panther on the prowl, turning on him from a point before the fireplace. His eyes narrowed on Brinsley’s face. “You owe this civilized meeting to Lady Gwyneth. If it weren’t for her…” His voice was a coarse growl.

Brinsley clenched and unclenched his hands on the armrests. He’d like to see Ashworth try. Unlike Ashworth, he’d been in enough brawls to be unfazed by the possibility of a gentlemanly fight.

“Miss Amelia has made it clear to Lady Gwyneth that you didn’t coerce her, and it was only the extreme emotions brought on by the incredible circumstances of the situation that made her weak to your advances.”

Advances? It took all of Brinsley’s control to disallow Ashworth that it was the lady who initiated the embrace. But as a gentleman, he couldn’t mention the fact that Amelia Bonnington had pressed herself against him, seeking to be embraced, wanting to be kissed.

Ashworth stepped closer to lean over him. “My God, man. She’s an innocent.”

Brinsley tried to control his response; when he remembered the way Amelia’s tongue had dueled with his in the passionate kiss. It was proof she was not so innocent—not after that kiss.

“And with your reputation.” Ashworth’s jaw tightened. “What the hell?”

Brinsley bristled with the reminder that he still wasn’t fit to be allowed in English society. “It was a very difficult time for everyone.”

“Yes, the strain was incredible for all of us when Lady Gwyneth disappeared, taken by the French in retaliation. But both ladies conducted themselves with incredible bravery and fortitude.”

Ashworth was pitiful the way his voice got wistful with the mention of his fiancée. He never understood what made brave men act like fools once they fell into a woman’s web.

Ashworth cleared his throat. “The salient fact is, that the lady has refused to have any connection with you. She made it quite clear to Lady Gwyneth that her interests lie elsewhere.”

Brinsley stiffened in his chair, ready to spring. Of all the nerve. Amelia Bonnington had been willing to explore her virginal passion with him, but he wasn’t good for anything beyond that.

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, acting bored with this newest information. “Who is the man she
is
interested in?”

He didn’t bother to mention that the only reason she was still a virgin was because of his sense of honor and control. And she had the nerve to reject him, like this no less.

“I can’t divulge the lady’s secrets. Lady Gwyneth would have my hide.” Ash threw back the last of his brandy and laughed. He didn’t seem to mind mentioning Lady Gwyneth’s control over him.

Ashworth stepped close, looming over him. “Listen, man. I owe you a debt of gratitude for helping Lady Gwyneth when I was in bad shape. Miss Amelia grew up with Cord’s wife, Lady Henrietta, and if Cord ever discovered your dalliance, he’d have you shipped back to France. That is if you remained alive after Miss Amelia’s brothers—all giants I might add—tore you apart for trifling with their sister.”

Brinsley thrust himself to his feet, forcing Ash to take a step back. He didn’t need Ashworth to be warning him off. He’d make a point of giving Miss Amelia Bonnington a wide berth from now on. What did he want with a seductive, red-haired siren? There were many women who didn’t hold his reputation against him.

“It seems the lady has escaped a disastrous connection.” He tried to sound flippant, but knew he had failed by Ashworth’s spy-honed appraisal. He couldn’t help that he had carnal dreams of the sensual Amelia Bonnington in his bed.

With the sound of the door opening, they both turned to find Lord Rathbourne, the formidable spy and their intimidating superior, saunter into the room. “Gentlemen.”

Relaxed and smiling, he slapped his friend on the back. “Ash, I’m glad you could join us. Gwyneth will be thrilled to see you. She’s in the morning room with Miss Amelia.”

Brinsley was disgusted with himself that his stomach curled with longing at the mention of a woman who had made it clear she wanted no part of him.

“They’re examining fabrics. I know how much you enjoy discussing fashion with the ladies.” Lord Rathbourne bent over the table and poured a glass full of ruby red liquid. He looked up at Brinsley. “Would you care for a drink?”

“Thank you.” Brinsley nodded.

Ash offered his glass for Lord Rathbourne to top off his brandy. “I’m happy to discuss anything that makes Gwyneth happy. How is Lady Henrietta feeling today?”

Rathbourne chuckled. “I’m unable to convince her to rest. She is used to taking care of everyone. I had to employ my skills of persuasion to get her to take it easy today. When needed, I can be very convincing.”

Brinsley couldn’t believe his ears. The Head of British Intelligence was admitting that he had difficulty negotiating with his wife.

Rathbourne ran his fingers through his black hair and looked at Brinsley. “We’re very excited by the birth of our first child, but the doctor was very clear that my wife needs to rest each day.”

Brinsley didn’t know what to say or where to look as his superior discussed his wife’s condition. He nodded his head.

Rathbourne took a big mouthful of the brandy. “Excuse me. You’ll understand when it’s your wife.” He raked his hair back again. “Let’s get down to business.” He walked to his desk and opened a file.

“I received information late last night that there was a man with a great deal of funds in
Ship’s Aground
tavern. Surveillance says he’s been asking a lot of questions about the Navy’s secret weapon.”

Ashworth sat down on a chair in front of the desk. “We aren’t going to be able to dismiss this information if we don’t know anything about the secret weapon.”

Lord Rathbourne gestured to Brinsley to take the empty chair. “I’ve been cleared to give you the information.”

“A little late, don’t you think?” Ash turned to Brinsley. “It’s a bit ironic. The Navy wants our protection, but doesn’t trust us enough to tell us what we’re protecting.”

“They’re quite adamant about keeping their plans hidden from the French. Now that they realize the threat is credible, they are much more forthcoming,” Rathbourne added.

“Great. Do tell.” Ash leaned back in his chair.

“The Navy has been working with an American inventor, Robert Fulton. Do you remember Ash, when we discovered he was working for the French on an underwater boat? He changed allegiances last year.”

Ash laughed. “To the highest bidder?”

“There is a story there for another occasion,” Rathbourne said.

“You’re telling us our secret weapon is an underwater boat?” Ash was incredulous.

“No, that invention failed miserably, but it has evolved. He kept the closed design device, weighted it with lead so it will ride low in the water, and stabilized it with wooden pontoons. It will be filled with explosives. A man maneuvers it with a paddle.”

Ash scoffed. “So the man steers a floating bomb with a paddle! And we thought our work was dangerous.”

“The operator is camouflaged, wearing dark clothes and a black cap.”

“That makes it sound even riskier.” Ash laughed.

“These are difficult times with difficult jobs for everyone. We have our job; protect the secret of this newest weapon.” Lord Rathbourne’s lack of humor was stark by comparison.

The playful mood dampened with the reminder of the very real and very close threat of French invasion.

“We are sure the French know of our secret weapon?” Ash asked.

“We have to assume the worst and work from there. We’ve been spreading misinformation about the project.”

“Misdirection?” Ash sat forward in his chair.

“Exactly. With the number of men working on the project, it’s near impossible to hide that we’re building a special boat.”

“Did the Navy devise any safe guards for the boat’s secrecy?” Brinsley asked.

“The work was subdivided in the earlier stage so no group knew the final project, but now, with final assembly and an impending launch date, the need for our involvement is vital.”

“Back to the man paddling a bomb in the dark, deep Channel water. Does he jump in the water and try to swim away?” Ash asked.

“He first must attach the boat to a French ship with a grappling hook. The launch has a timing device to detonate the explosives so he has the time to make a speedy exit. Of course, that is all assuming the French don’t see him and blow him out of the water.”

Ash exhaled slowly through pursed lips. “Amazing. But tricky for them to get close enough to attach the ‘secret weapon’ to the ship, right?”

“Exactly, but the Navy assures me that it can be used decisively against the ships Napoleon is amassing in Boulogne. Our job is to keep the knowledge of the weapon and the timing mechanism out of French hands. Nothing about the ship building should alert suspicion, but we can’t be sure if the French are after the design of the weapon, the timing mechanism, its current location and impending launch date, its planned target, or how many are being built.”

“Do we know what the man tried to buy?” Brinsley asked.

“My source said he offered jewels for any projects Robert Fulton was working on.”

“Interesting. But he might just be on a fishing expedition,” Ash said.

“That’s the most likely conclusion. The French might be throwing around a lot of money to see what they can get. But the more disturbing possibility is that they’ve discovered the secret weapon and are trying to buy the plans.”

“Does the Navy suspect any breach of security?” Ash asked.

“No, they reassured me that Fulton and his assistants haven’t been compromised.”

“Our job is to find the man trying to buy secrets?” Brinsley asked.

“Exactly. I want you to find the buyer and negotiate to sell the secrets, Brinsley. With your body size, you look like you could work on the docks. And from what I know about you, you know how to handle yourself in the seedy taverns.”

Brinsley’s spine stiffened. He didn’t like the idea that Lord Rathbourne knew about his disreputable past, but of course he did. He was Head of Intelligence.

“What description do you have of this man?” Brinsley asked.

“He spoke like a gentleman, but had his hat pulled down so his face couldn’t be totally seen in the shadows.”

“Why is he negotiating with jewels?” Brinsley continued.

“It is easier to smuggle jewels out of France than silver. That he’s using jewels makes me believe this is not a government-sanctioned plan, but rather an independent smuggling ring,” Rathbourne said.

“I don’t follow why you don’t think Napoleon’s behind the plot,” Brinsley said.

“Napoleon wouldn’t bother with jewels, he’d send silver directly to his agents. Jewels have a way of disappearing.”

Rathbourne looked squarely at Brinsley. “Ash has spent some time on the docks and bars in the East End. He’s checked out the tavern.”

“
Ship’s Aground
is the place for our traitor to sell secrets. It’s the center of underground business transactions,” Ash said.

“Ash can make the connections for you to start your surveillance. Of course, totally incognito,” Rathbourne added.

The door flew open. Lady Gwyneth strode into the room with Miss Amelia Bonnington following. Of all his luck, Brinsley was forced to see Amelia when he was starting to settle into his new, risky assignment. The men rose with the ladies’ entrance.

“Brompton just told me that my wayward fiancé was in the house and didn’t come to greet me,” Lady Gwyneth said.

Ash took Lady Gwyneth’s hands between his, bringing them up to kiss her knuckles. “Darling, I was coming to you as soon as we finished.”

Amelia hung back from the couple. Brinsley’s skin prickled with a sudden hypersensitive awareness of Amelia’s proximity. Her honeysuckle scent filled his senses, threatening to blank out all else in the room. She had a gardenia pinned to a hairband that held her flowing copper hair away from her face. The white petals of the flower were like her skin: translucent, delicate…beautiful.

They stared at each other, unable to look away. Amelia’s porcelain skin colored and a flush rose on her chest and up her neck. He remembered how soft her skin had felt and how he had sucked on the hot, soft flesh.

Ash, as if understanding Amelia’s discomfort, wrapped his arm around her, planting a kiss on her cheek in a brotherly fashion. “Amelia, how are the designs coming?”

Possessiveness surged through Brinsley. His body tightened with Ash touching Amelia. What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t really come to grips with the fact that Amelia wasn’t his.

The way her eyes had darkened and her lips parted when she saw him, convinced him that she remembered their kiss. If that’s what you could call their kiss—the incredible, blustering heat that exploded between them in the darkened hallway was far more than just a kiss.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything important, Cord,” Lady Gwyneth said coyly. “What are you gentlemen working on? French spies conspiring to kill Ash?”

“Gwyneth,” Ash scolded.

She hid a lady-like snort behind her fingers.

“Completely boring stuff. Nothing as exciting as Elwood’s house party.” Rathbourne winked at his sister. “We’ll return to business once you’ve confirmed that your affianced is in no danger.”

“You promised that Ash would have no more dangerous assignments before the wedding.” Lady Gwyneth looked at her fiancé. Her face shone warm with obvious adoration.

Emptiness filled Brinsley. Witnessing the love shining in Lady Gwyneth’s face, he suddenly felt envious of Ash.

Lady Gwyneth released Ash’s hands and offered her outstretched hand to him. “Brinsley, this is a pleasant surprise to find you here.”