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

Brinsley bowed over her hand. “It is a pleasure to see you, my lady. And looking so well.”

“Cord, I don’t believe I’ve shared with you how incredibly helpful Brinsley was in assisting me when Ash was ill. Without his cool, steady manner, I’m not sure what we would’ve done. Isn’t that so, Amelia?”

Amelia’s violet eyes widened as she bit down on her full pink lip. “Yes, he was most helpful.” She avoided looking at him, keeping her eyes on Rathbourne.

Brinsley couldn’t stop staring at her lips. “Your sister and Miss Amelia would’ve handled anything that needed to be done without me, but I’m glad that I could be of assistance.”

Not allowing him to escape, Lady Gwyneth clung to Brinsley’s hand. “You must join us for tea, Lord Brinsley. Amelia and I are working on my wedding dress, but when you men are finished with this important meeting, please come to the morning room. Uncle Charles and Edward have gone off to their reading club,
The Odd Set of Volumes,
so it will be only us. Henrietta will be up from her nap by then.”

Brinsley bowed over Lady Gwyneth’s hand, his mind racing for a plausible reason to decline. “Thank you, my lady, but…”

Lady Gwyneth placed her hand on his arm. “I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. After our experience together I feel as if we are well acquainted; you simply must join us.”

Ash pulled Lady Gwyneth close to him and whispered in her ear, loud enough for Brinsley to hear him say, “You don’t need to keep touching him.”

Lady Gwyneth stared into Ash’s eyes. Her look of longing was painful for a lonely man to watch.

Rathbourne cleared his throat.

Lady Gwyneth laughed merrily.

Ash turned to Brinsley. “We will understand if you have other commitments.”

Brinsley had planned to decline, but was now determined to accept after Ashworth’s attempt to cut him away. “I couldn’t disappoint the ladies.”

The look Ash gave him was very clear. He was not to get any ideas about Miss Amelia Bonnington.

Chapter Two

Amelia’s heart beat a vicious tattoo against her chest. The incessant hammering had persisted since she had first learned that Lord Brinsley was at the Rathbourne house.

After her inexplicable, impulsive, uncharacteristic behavior, she’d hoped to never cross paths with the rogue again. She had completely blocked out his work as an agent. Besides being a rake, the man was a spy.

The conversation around afternoon tea had remained polite, although Amelia couldn’t ignore the prickly awareness of the gargantuan man who dwarfed the chair across from her. He leaned back, insolently crossing a broad leg over the other.

“Amelia has outdone herself with the design of my wedding ball gown,” Gwyneth gushed to Ash.

Ash whispered to Gwyneth, “You look beautiful in anything.”

The intimacy in his look and the way his voice deepened made Amelia look away from the couple.

Gwyneth caught her lower lip between her teeth in a delicate nip that was unable to hide her mischievous smile. The charged tension between the couple shot like a bolt of lightning through the sunny morning room.

Henrietta, still pale after her nap, with dark circles under eyes, sipped her tea, ignoring the heated looks and sparks between the couple. “With Gwyneth’s tall stature and deportment, creating her wedding gown must have made it much easier than designing mine.”

Gwyneth turned in her chair. “But Henrietta, you looked like a tiny fairy princess on your wedding day. I’ll never forget the look on my brother’s face. I would never have thought that either of these gentlemen, what with their rakish reputations, would finally fall in love.”

Henrietta laughed. “I’m afraid I’m no fairy princess. But you are correct about Cord. He did have quite a reputation.”

“Cord should be here to defend himself.” Ash coughed behind his hand. “You know much of his reputation was attributable to his work.”

Gwyneth rolled her eyes and turned to Ash. “Was your reputation part of your cover too?”

“Gwyneth…” Ash pleaded. Seeking to change the subject, he turned to Amelia. “Please tell us how you go about designing a gown?”

Gwyneth snorted then coughed into her tea. Between sputters, she teased Ash. “James Henry Ashworth, you know you have no interest in the stitch and tuck of dress making. You’re just trying to change the subject from your devilish past.”

Ash shook his head. “I was simply engaging in polite discourse with Miss Amelia.”

Henrietta passed the tray that had been filled with finger sandwiches, cookies, biscuits, cheese, and slices of apple. Mrs. Brompton had sent a hearty repast knowing the gentlemen would be present.

With four brothers, Amelia was very aware of men’s hearty appetites. The thought of Lord Brinsley’s voracious appetite was speeding up her heart again. He and Ash had almost cleared the entire tray of food except for a few lonely biscuits and cheese.

“Brinsley, please, you must finish the rest of the biscuits. Mrs. Brompton will take it as a personal affront if any food remains.”

“Thank you. You have an amazing cook.” His broad hand moved the two biscuits and cheese to his plate in one graceful move.

Amelia’s chest tightened with the memory of how he had rubbed her lower lip with that massive hand before he kissed her. She took a slow breath and pressed her hand against her chest, trying to ease the constriction on her lungs and speeding heart.

“Brinsley, I’m sure wedding gowns are of no interest to you. Ash has to pretend since he’s an affianced man. Do you have any sisters?” Gwyneth asked.

Amelia wasn’t sure if Gwyneth remembered the scandal surrounding Lord Brinsley—that he didn’t appear in good ton because of his reputation. Gwyneth probably did remember, but disregarded the rumors about him running off with his brother’s fiancée, or she simply didn’t care now that she’d included him in her inner circle of friends.

Amelia wasn’t as forgiving. She had no trouble believing the seduction rumors after the way he had kissed her. A familiar heat stole up from her stomach, to her chest, to her face. She hated that her pale skin reflected all her emotions. Right now, the cad was watching her over the rim of his teacup and appeared to know that the memory of their inflamed embrace had caused her skin to turn the color of a pomegranate.

Henrietta also watched, knowing that something was afoot.

Amelia had wanted to spare her closest friend from her turbulent feelings surrounding the Christmas house party, knowing that Henrietta was suffering badly from morning sickness.

“I’ve no sisters. Only an older brother.” Lord Brinsley showed no difficulty speaking about his family and no discomfiture specifically speaking about his brother.

“Well, we’ll have to make up for your lack of sisters, won’t we, Henrietta, Amelia?” Gwyneth asked innocently.

Sisters? What game was Gwyneth playing? Was she trying to be a matchmaker? Gwyneth blissfully ignored the harsh look Amelia hurled at her friend.

Gwyneth had wanted all the details of their romance after witnessing their embrace—as if one embrace
counted
for a romance, even one long, lingering, unforgettable moment.

Damn it. With Gwyneth’s intense, questioning look, the heat came in waves again. The idea that both Gwyneth and Ash had observed the intense dalliance appalled her. She’d never ask how much they’d seen—not that Gwyneth wouldn’t be thrilled to discuss every delicious scintillating moment in glorious detail.

Henrietta leaned forward in her chair. “I’d be pleased to have another brother, Lord Brinsley. Gwyneth has told me all about your heroic role at Christmas time. I don’t know what Cord would’ve done if anything had happened to Ash.”

“Henrietta, you’re embarrassing Ash. Men never admit to their feelings about each other,” Gwyneth teased. “Can you imagine Cord declaring his love for Ash?”

Henrietta laughed out loud, as did Gwyneth.

Usually Amelia would’ve joined in, but she sat stiff, unable to banter while Brinsley watched her every move, noting her every reaction. Even when he wasn’t looking at her, she knew he was as aware of her as she was of him.

“I’d be pleased to call each of you charming ladies sisters.” Now Lord Brinsley’s green eyes deepened to a mysterious gray as he gave Amelia a challenging look. He was fully aware that he didn’t arouse sister-like feelings in her.

Gwyneth clapped her hands in delight. “How wonderful since I only have Cord.” A wistful look darkened Gwyneth’s face. Although young and impetuous, Gwyneth was sensitive and had suffered in her childhood with the loss of her oldest brother.

“You only have Cord? What about me?” Ash stood up and lifted Gwyneth from the settee into his arms. “Excuse us, I’ve got to explain to Lady Gwyneth a few things about who she has in her life.”

Laughing and pretending to fight to be released, Gwyneth batted at Ash’s chest. “Put me down, you brute.” All efforts at her command were negated by her laugh.

Halfway to the door Ash turned and addressed Henrietta. “Aunt Euphemia isn’t home, is she?”

Henrietta, the most serious of the trio, giggled at the question. “You don’t have to worry. Aunt Euphemia is on her social calls.”

Gwyneth leaned back in Ash’s arms and looked up at him with a highly amused twinkle in her eyes. “You’re not afraid of criminals and spies, but you’re wary of dear Aunt Euphemia.”

“You shouldn’t insult me when you’re in such a vulnerable position.” Ash pretended to drop Gwyneth who squealed in response. “And any intelligent man would be afraid of your Aunt Euphemia.”

“Brinsley, my man, can you get the door? As you can see I have my hands full.”

The loving way Ash spoke caused a slight ache to start in Amelia’s chest. Both of her closest friends had found love. They both were radiant with joy. She felt left out of the warmth.

Henrietta watched the couple leave, then stood. “I think I’ll check on my wayward husband. Amelia, can you entertain Lord Brinsley for a few minutes while I make sure that Cord has had tea? Once he starts working, he forgets to eat.”

Her closest friends abandoned her to a man with a questionable reputation. Were they insane, or was she? She should have followed Cord’s example and found a way to stay away. Her stomach and heart fluttered in anticipation as she watched Lord Brinsley walk toward her. His black riding breeches hugged his powerful thighs. There was something very threatening in his slow meander as if he was preparing to pounce.

Why did she suddenly feel threatened? His male posture caused her stomach to flip-flop in a most nerve-racking manner. He was like her brothers—large and dominant, confident in his own power. She remembered being pressed against those thighs, the way he had pushed his leg between hers. A warmth flooded her entire being.

He sat on the settee close to her. As he seated himself beside her, the cushion tipped her closer to him. She resisted the urge to move away; she refused to allow him to believe she was afraid of him. Although her face was crimson, she wasn’t about to show any other outward reaction to the rogue’s encroaching position. He knew his potent maleness unsettled her. He was used to women fawning over him and his raw virility.

“It seems I owe you an apology.” He leaned close, too close. So close she could see flecks of gold in darkened eyes and the beginning of the dusky bristles on his angular jaw.

He spoke of apology, but the way he looked at her was neither repentant nor contrite. In fact, he looked angry. Why should he be angry?

“Lord Brinsley.” Her voice came out breathless. She reached for her cup of tea to hide her nervousness. “You do not owe me an apology. I’m not sure why you feel you do.”

“It seems Ash witnessed our little embrace and felt it was marriage-worthy.”

Amelia gasped. “What?” She froze, her cup forgotten in her surprise. Then fury erupted from deep within. Ash had the nerve to speak to Lord Brinsley? Ash wasn’t her brother. This sounded more like Gwyneth’s interference. Amelia struggled to breathe. She was mortified and beyond angry. She knew her face burned hotly as did the fire in her gut.

Lord Brinsley watched her carefully, his eyes taking in every inch of her exposed skin.

“Ash spoke to you about me…about marrying me?” She could barely get the words out.

Lord Brinsley’s voice was rough and clipped. “He made it obvious that the idea of me as a husband is distasteful to you. You can rest easy; I’m not going to ask. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

Amelia would’ve laughed at the absurdity of the situation if she weren’t humiliated, furious, and utterly flummoxed by feelings she couldn’t identify. “I can’t believe Ash took it upon himself… I can’t believe he spoke to you about…” She couldn’t bring herself to call the episode that had left her sleepless and agitated for weeks a “little embrace.” Understanding Ash’s concern tempered her anger, but it didn’t absolve him. The insolent man next to her was another matter. His casual manner about the passionate interlude had kept her spinning in a daze for days, her emotions ricocheting.

Unable to control the ire her brothers had labeled her “red-haired temper”, she blurted out, “I assume you’ve shared ‘little embraces’ likes ours all the time and you’re still not married.”

His jaw tightened and his green eyes turned flinty gray, his voice was a threatening growl. “I’ve never met a woman who wasn’t accommodating. Your problem is you are Lady Gwyneth and Lady Henrietta’s friend, and an innocent gentlewoman.”

The cad. How dare he refer to his “accommodating women,” and he meant more than kissing when he said “accommodating.” How ungentlemanly to say that the only reason he felt caught was because of her innocence. “Are you insinuating our embrace wouldn’t matter to a man of your experience if I weren’t friends with the wives of your associates?”

She took pleasure in watching his strong jaw clench in agitation, the tightening rippled his muscular throat.

“Ash explained to me that I would not be your choice for a husband. And that your desires lie elsewhere.”

Anxiety swelled up from her churning stomach, making her light-headed. Ash knew about Michael and had spoken to Lord Brinsley. Was nothing sacrosanct?

“My God, your face is so pale. Are you all right?” Lord Brinsley took her hands in his, rubbing them briskly; they were ice cold.