Page 54 of Irresistible
“They would have no way of knowing that you were anxious,” he assured her as they started up the stairs. “If they detected anything, it will be easily explained by your headache.”
“I’m glad. You should speak with the Woolfords, or at least Mr. Woolford, when you go back down. He has shot targets with Gil on several occasions.”
“I’ll do that, thank you. I had an enlightening conversation over port with Sylvester.”
“Oh?” She turned her head toward him as they reached the gallery.
“He describes Gil as a man who likes to embellish things and is obsessed with the French. Specifically, the gun modeled after Napoleon’s was made here in England and may or may not be a true copy.”
“I see. Are you beginning to doubt the Chesmores are spies?”
Dougal opened the door to their chamber for her. “Not yet, but until you decipher those letters, or we catch them in the act of delivering information to a French courier, we don’t really have any solid evidence. It’s still just suspicion.”
She went directly to the desk. “I’m not sleeping until I work this out.”
He didn’t doubt she meant that. “Shall I have tea sent up?”
“Not yet.” She took the letters from the pocket of her dress and sat down, her features settling into deep concentration.
“You should have been a scholar. Teaching at Oxford, perhaps.”
Looking toward him, she blinked. “What?”
“You’ve a brilliant mind, and your dedication is admirable.”
“That hardly makes me a scholar,” she said, blushing slightly. Damn, she was attractive when she did that. And every other moment.
“You wouldn’t like that?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“No. I’d much rather be out in the world, doing something like this. Being a scholar doesn’t sound very adventurous. I love to read, but if given the choice, I’d ratherdo.” She waved her hand at him. “Now leave me be so I can focus.”
He didn’t want to leave her at all. He wanted to offer his help and support. More importantly, he wanted to be here when she triumphed over that bloody code. “Good luck.”
Closing the door, he started back toward the stairs, his thoughts fixed completely on Jess. Her commitment was an excellent trait, but if she couldn’t decipher those letters, they’d be no farther along than when they arrived. Dougal began to worry they would be here longer than anticipated.
It’s only been three days!
Three days plus the day it took to get here and the day it would take to return to London—all valuable time during which he wasn’t investigating the failures of his previous missions. A troublesome thought rose in his mind—what if this mission failed too? If they couldn’t find evidence that the Chesmores were spies and it turned out they were, in fact, working for France, he would have failed again.
Dougal couldn’t let that happen.
The letters Jess had written began to dance across the parchment. Perhaps she did need some tea. Or brandy. Or tea with brandy.
How many hours had she been working on this? At least two. Probably three. She actually had no idea what time it was.
The door opened, and Dougal came inside. He immediately loosened his cravat and swept his gaze over her. “You look comfortable.”
She glanced down at herself. “Because I’m in my dressing gown? I still have my wig on.”
“So you do.” He removed his spectacles and set them on the table by the door. “Any progress?”
Leaning back in the chair, she huffed out a frustrated breath. “Not really. I’m beginning to think this is impossible. Is the party over?”
He nodded. “I thought it would never end.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly three.”
