Page 90 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
To his surprise—he should stop being surprised by anything this woman did—Ellie made a little noise like a chuckle. When he shot her a sidelong glance, she was shaking her head, her expression rueful.
“I suppose I need even more of a distraction now.”
“I shouldnae volunteer to help distract ye from myself, but I confess I’m curious.”
“About why I need distracting?” Her lips were curling and she’d made no effort to pull away.
“I think I can guess that. I mean…” He jerked his chin sideways. “Yer puzzles.”
“Well…” She inhaled deeply, clearly debating with herself. “Well, I suppose it would be fine to explain…”
When she pulled her hand free, he didn’t object—truthfully, hewascurious, now she’d hinted it was a secret. He watched her pull the papers together, organizing them into stacks, and remembered the day after she’d arrived at his flat when she’d been working on something similar at the table.
“These are messages, all coded, which appeared in a particular newspaper. My father sent them, and he claimed they were part of a game he played with his brother. My uncle is the new earl, as you may remember.” She wasn’t looking at him as she explained,thank Christ. “Some friends asked me if I could break the code.”
Fawkes couldfeelthe blood draining from his face, and he had to plant a palm on the desk to keep from wobbling.
Shewas the expert Thorne had mentioned, that evening in Fawkes’s flat? When he’d spoke of someone who was cracking a code so they could lure Blackrose into a plot?
When Thorne had decided Fawkes should be a part of the investigation to take down Blackrose—little realizing Fawkes was still under the man’s thumb—he’d mentioned a possible way to communicate with Blackrose. A code they were working on breaking.
Fawkes hadn’t asked for details. Frankly, he couldn’taffordto know. He wanted the bastard taken down as much as any of them, but as long as Mother was in danger, he would do nothing to piss off Blackrose.
But now he was free…
“What kind of code?” he asked, his voice scratchy.
She didn’t seem to notice. “I am not certain. Itshouldbe a simple substitution cipher. See, I have even managed to make some headway on a few of the messages. But he used a different key each time.”
In the time Ellie took to explain about simple substitution ciphers, and how the keyword would be placed at the front of the alphabet, and the keyword could change as long as both partiesknewthe particular keyword for each sentence…well, it took Fawkes that long to process throughthis.
Ellie was breaking the code for Thorne and Demon and the Duke of Exingham, and whoever else was working together to bring Blackrose to justice. They’d turned toher—an unassuming little widow whose biggest worry was securing a home for her stepdaughter.
And why no’? Ellie’s brilliant. And her sister is married to one of the players.
Aye, it made sense. It had just…surprised him.
He shifted so he could see her profile as she spoke of ciphers and the ancient Greeks and patterns of human reasoning. Brilliant, aye…and beautiful. Imperfectly perfect, with those freckles and the gap in her teeth and those midnight eyes which managed to convey so much.
A man would be lucky to have someone like her at his side.
Fawkes frowned at the unexpected thought.
Hewouldbe lucky to have her at his side, aye, but she was only here until Christmas. She needed a home, a place for Merida. And Fawkes…well, he wasn’t certain he’d have anything to offer her in a few days. Presumably his father’s will wouldn’t be read until after Christmas, but once Mother was evicted from Hangcok Hill, he’d have to find a new home for them both. He couldn’t be responsible for Ellie and Merida as well.
Could he?
Impulsively, Fawkes reached for her hand again, the touch startling her into silence. She turned to him, lips parted, andChrist, he wanted to taste them again.
She’d kissed him that second time, in his flat, when she thanked him despite the fact he hadn’t given her what she’d wanted. And he’d kissed her up against the wall in that alleyway.
But now, he wanted to kiss her forreal. Without expectation. Without coercion. Without demands. He wanted to kiss her not because he was deep inside her, not because she was grateful…but for the sheer joy of mingling their breaths, tasting one another’s souls.
Lovely? Hell, she wasbeautiful. And he wanted her.
“Fawkes?”
He shook himself. “Sorry. I was just thinking…”How much I want ye. How smart ye are. “Why no’ assume both yer father and uncle have—had—the same keywords? A list or something? A book, perhaps?”
