Page 43 of Irresistible
“Yes. The timing is suspicious since I revealed myself to Mrs. Farr last night.” He’d learned not to doubt himself over the years, but his confidence had taken a hit—however slight—with the failed missions several months earlier.
Jess stopped and stared at him, her expression concerned. “Do you think Mrs. Farr alerted the Chesmores that we’re from the Foreign Office?”
He ushered her toward the room. “Probably not, but we do need to consider every possibility.”
Jess reached the door, and he hastened to opened it for her. “How does he even know what guns are in Napoleon’s private collection?” she asked, removing her hat and gloves.
“Exactly.” Dougal closed the door firmly, and the tension he hadn’t realized had built up in his neck released. Tearing off his own hat and gloves, he sailed them toward the bed. He massaged his nape and went directly to the bottle of brandy.
“I’ll have one of those too,” Jess said as she sat in one of the chairs by the hearth. “And don’t be stingy.” She’d unlaced her boots and kicked them off by the time he returned with the drinks. Accepting the glass from him, she smiled gratefully. “Thank you. You really think I should shoot again?”
He sat down opposite her near the hearth. “Perhaps not here, but yes. When we’re back in London, I can even ensure you have lessons—in a safe environment.”
“I’m not sure there is such a thing if I’m wielding a gun,” she murmured.
He heard the humor in her voice and smiled. “You’ll get back to it. You aren’t the sort of person to quit something so easily.”
“You think so?”
“Have you ever given up on a cipher?”
“No.”
“And I imagine some of them weren’t easy.”
She exhaled. “No, they were not.”
“I assumed as much. I know you, Jess, and you’re tenacious.”
“We haven’t even known each other a fortnight,” she scoffed. “Not officially anyway.”
“What does that mean, ‘officially’?”
She took a generous drink of brandy. “Wehavemet before. Four years ago. I remember it distinctly.”
“Four years ago?” Damn, now he felt terrible. “How can you be sure?”
She gave him a haughty look of certainty that quite frankly pricked his desire. “Because I am. You asked me to dance at the Edgemont Ball.”
He’d danced with her. Four years ago. And never again. Worse, he didn’t remember it. He was an absolute cad. “I should have remembered you. I can’t imagine why I didn’t,” he said softly.
Sentiment, which he preferred to indulge in small, manageable doses, threatened to send him to her chair, to take her hand and beg her forgiveness. A husband would do that. A lover. He was neither, and since they were alone, there was no reason to continue the pretense. Only, he was fairly certain he was no longer pretending. He was simply behaving as he ought. As hewanted.
He was saved from further reflection by something he saw out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that on your bedside table?”
Jess stood, her features creasing as she made her way to the table. She set her brandy down and picked up the folded parchment, pivoting toward him. Opening it, her eyes scanned the paper. Slowly, her lips spread into a wide, satisfied smile.
“It’s a coded letter.”
Chapter11
“Mrs. Farr must have brought it,” Dougal said.
Jess stared at the numbers as her pulse quickened. A puzzle stretched before her, and she could hardly wait to solve it. Dougal joined her, perusing the letter over her shoulder. He was close, nearly as close as when he’d helped her to shoot. The memory of his body pressed against hers combined with his scent—sandalwood and the sea. If she inched back, she’d feel him again…
“I should get started. I’ll copy it first so you can return this to Mrs. Farr. That way she can replace it, hopefully before the Chesmores realize it’s missing.” She left his intoxicating presence for the small desk in the corner. Perching on the small chair, she laid the letter flat on the desktop.
“How will you decipher it?” Dougal asked, moving to the table by the windows, which was behind her.
