A Code of the Heart (The Code Breakers Series Book 3) (20 page)

“We wouldn’t be intruding?” Connor asked.

Derrick hadn’t noticed Aunt Euphemia until she spoke from behind him. She must have been listening to the entire exchange as she stepped forward, the feathers on her turban waving. “I’d like to be included in the invitation.”

“Of course, Aunt Euphemia.” Amelia nodded with a wide smile. “My father and I would be honored to have you join us.”

Derrick stared at the older woman. Her eyes twinkling with tender mischievousness. And if he hadn’t been watching closely, he’d have missed her brief wink.

Lauren and Connor exchanged a knowing look. “We’d love to join you.”

Amelia’s face broke into a wide grin. “Wonderful. I think Derrick would appreciate the support of old friends as he faces my family.”

“Tomorrow it is.” Derrick said. “And now that we’ve given the ton enough to talk about for at least six months, I’d like to take my perfect partner for a stroll.” Derrick bowed to Aunt Euphemia. And with Amelia on his arm, he turned to the French doors leading onto the balcony. He hoped to escape for a few moments with Amelia. With the appearance of Lauren, every eye was upon them.

He looked down at Amelia, her cheeks flushed from all the attention.

“Would you rather not be with me and not attract further notice until this latest gossip settles down?”

“What? And miss walking next to a hero.” Amelia looked up at him with adoring light in her eyes, a small smile curling her lips. “Except, you’re my hero now.”

“I’m no hero.” Derrick shook his head as he opened the door to the outside.

“Tell that to Lauren or to Laird MacAlister. They say you saved her from your brother and a disastrous marriage.”

After keeping the secret of the abuse for so long, he still felt the disgrace of his family. He didn’t want Amelia to associate him with the iniquity of his family.

She stopped, pulling on his arm to make him pause and look at her. “Derrick, you know I’ll never judge you by your family. I would hate to think what people would think if they judged me by my brothers.” She laughed, her eyes playful and caring.

He took a deep breath and tried to sound unaffected. “My brother was raised to succeed my father. He learned from my father that a duke must rule by any means, including physical intimidation and cruelty.” The old anger started to erupt, but Amelia’s loving and accepting look eased the lonely burden.

“You and your mother were the recipients of this cruelty?” She touched him gently on his arm.

The shame and pain burned in his gut. “Aunt Euphemia told you about my mother?”

“No. I overheard Aunt Euphemia mention better times, so I did wonder.”

“Aunt Euphemia knew my mother before she married my father. She knows what my mother endured.”

Amelia squeezed his arm. “Derrick, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s over. The old tyrant is gone. I never see my brother.”

“Never?” Her brows beetled together.

“I inherited my estate from my mother. Rather poetic justice. My father married my mother for the very profitable estate. Fortunately, my brother didn’t benefit from my mother’s suffering.”

He was so intent on finally sharing the strain of his family’s vileness, he didn’t notice the other guests moving closer to them.

Rathbourne, with Lady Henrietta on his arm, and Ash, with Lady Gwyneth on his arm, encircled Derrick.

Rathbourne clapped him on his back. “Glad to see you finally vindicated.”

“You knew?” Derrick’s incredulous face and voice made everyone laugh.

“Of course, I do have access to certain information.” Rathbourne said in his usual cool voice.

Lady Gwyneth shook her head at her brother. “I didn’t know that Miss Lauren married a Scottish laird, but I always knew, Brinsley, that you were an honorable man.”

“An amazing gesture, that Brinsley took Miss Lauren out of his brother’s reach,” Ash said.

As the ladies all scrutinized Derrick, he couldn’t keep his face from heating again.

“Did you know, Amelia?” Gwyneth asked.

“Not until tonight. But like you, Gwyneth, I believed in Derrick.”

The ladies sighed and the men, including Derrick, all shifted their weight.

“I believe I hear the instruments warming up for the next dance. Does my bride want to dance again?” Ash teased.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.” Lady Gwyneth cooed.

“Henrietta?” Rathbourne asked.

“I’d be honored, sir.” Henrietta curtsied.

Ash and Rathbourne led the ladies into the ballroom.

“I believe you owe me a dance.” Amelia licked her lower lip.

“I believe I owe you a lifetime of dances.” And he swept Amelia into his arms.

Epilogue

Amelia added extra cream and sugar into Aunt Euphemia’s teacup as usual. Aunt Euphemia, dressed in a robin’s egg blue afternoon gown with a lime green velvet toque perched on her silver-white hair, looked the part of the respectable matron.

Amelia’s younger brothers sat beside her on the settee. She could supervise them better when she kept them in close proximity. Aunt Euphemia sat in one of the many winged chairs arranged around the table. She expected ten for the afternoon’s tea.

Aunt Euphemia looked at Drew, the youngest brother, who had stuffed an entire sandwich in his mouth. “Young man, are you a cricket player?”

Colin, older than Drew by one year, replied around the partially-chewed apple slice in his mouth. “He tries.”

If their appetites were a predictor, her younger brothers would grow tall and hefty as her older brothers.

Although Aunt Euphemia’s toque was secured with ribbons under her chin, the nest of chickadee-like birds perched on the hat veered each time she spoke. “Colin, may I hazard a guess that you’re close to fourteen years old.”

“Yes, ma’am. I just turned fourteen. Drew is the baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Drew screeched.

Amelia shot a stern look at Colin with no effect.

Aunt Euphemia, made of sterner stuff than tea with young hooligans, smiled at both boys. “I’m assuming Jack is next in line to your father.”

Drew piped in. “Jack is the oldest, then Amelia, Parker, Colin, and then me.”

Colin leaned around Amelia toward Drew. “Don’t forget Matilda and Mirabelle. They come before you too.”

Amelia issued a gentle warning. “Colin…”

Aunt Euphemia’s birds fluttered as her head bobbed. “Matilda and Mirabelle?” She teased. “You have more sisters?”

Drew squealed in delight at the idea of their two dogs as sisters.

Colin rolled his eyes. “One sister is enough.”

Amelia sipped her tea. She was used to playing the role of ogre with her brothers.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Colin. Who are Matilda and Mirabelle?” Aunt Euphemia asked innocently.

Asleep by the hearth, the two spaniels, responding to their names, jumped up, and raced to the table.

Drew broke into a fit of giggles. “This is Matilda and this is Mirabelle.” He fed each of them a sandwich from the tray, breaking all the rules that Amelia had been trying to drum into their heads.

“Drew, you’re not to feed the dogs during tea-time,” Amelia said.

Aunt Euphemia chuckled and looked across the room. “I now have met your entire family.”

Amelia followed her gaze. Derrick, her father, Parker, and Jack, stood by the large window framing the winter garden of Bonnington estate. Although Derrick’s head was tilted, likely listening to a discussion of the newest reform in Parliament, Amelia could feel his heated gaze. She was shocked by his ability to arouse her with only an ardent stare. Was he remembering their passionate night together as she was?

Derrick, noting her stare, spoke briefly to her father before walking toward her. Her heart slammed against her chest in an erratic rhythm.

She couldn’t look away, entranced by his passionate and possessive look. His purposeful stride was less like a gentleman, dressed in buff pantaloons and polished Hessians, but rather a marauding pirate ready to abduct her.

And she’d be a willing captive, allowing herself to be swept into his arms and ravaged.

“Amelia, why is your face turning red?” Drew said in a loud voice.

Aunt Euphemia harrumphed behind her napkin.

Amelia stood. “It’s warm in here.” She stepped around her brother to get to Derrick.

Derrick took her hands into his, pulling her closer to the door, away from peering eyes and listening ears. “You beckoned me?”

“I did?” She looked up into his fervent, penetrating stare.

“You were inviting me to come over and carry you out of this room and away from your family.”

“I might have,” she whispered. “I was remembering our night together and wanting another.”

“My God, Amelia. Don’t say anymore or I will embarrass myself.”

“You will.” She looked down at his pantaloons.

“Don’t look, it will only make it worse,” Derrick growled. “We have to make this a very short engagement.”

Amelia wanted to put her hand under his shirt, to feel his warmth and untie his pristine cravat to reveal his strong throat, but she reminded herself that her entire family was watching. “I don’t know myself. All I think about is you and our night.”

“Darling, it’s the same for me.” His voice was warm and gravelly.

And as she leaned toward Derrick, wanting to be as close as socially permissible, Stimson opened the door to announce the arrival of their guests.

Laird MacAlister, with Lauren on one arm and another beautiful young blond woman on the other, entered the drawing room.

Amelia, with her arm laced with Derrick, greeted their guests together.

“Welcome to Bonnington home.” Amelia curtsied to Lauren and the young woman who appeared to be Lauren’s sister. She had the same round face, slim figure, and rosy cheeks.

Derrick bowed to Lauren. “Lauren. And can this be little Abbie?”

Abbie, pretending to be coquettish, batted her eyes at Derrick. “Yes, Lord Brinsley. It is I, Abbie, all grown.

The young woman, had the same blond curls as Lauren, but, instead of dark eyes, hers were a bright blue. And she had the same mischievous spark as Gwyneth.

Derrick nodded to the Laird. “MacAlister.”

Lauren stepped closer to Amelia. “Miss Amelia, may I introduce you to my sister, Miss Abigail.”

Parker moved quickly across the room and spoke to Derrick in a low, fascinated voice that Amelia had never previously heard. “I’d like to meet the grown Abbie.”

Amelia watched her middle brother turn on his charm for the pleasing and spunky Miss Abigail, who didn’t seem impressed by the attention, as if she were accustomed to the intense attention of gentlemen.

With Miss Abigail’s disinterest, Parker bowed and moved to the trays filled with food.

Her father and Jack then joined the group for introductions. Jack, in his role as the oldest son, was confident of his ability to charm both ladies.

“Miss Abigail, you’re visiting from Scotland?” Jack smiled down at the young woman, assured of his appeal.

“I reside in London, sir. Lauren lives in Scotland.” Miss Abigail didn’t seem the least impressed by the attention of Amelia’s handsomely roguish brother, answering politely.

Jack, who was used to women fawning over him, was in shock. He never had to make an effort with women. With his strong build, good looks, and his irresistible magnetism, he was always in demand by the ladies.

Amelia couldn’t believe her brother’s expression. His wide eyes and his slack mouth appeared as if he had been struck dumb by Miss Abigail’s winsome looks. All he did was stare at the young woman—two spots colored his cheeks.

“London keeps you busy attending balls? Taking in the season?” Jack asked.

“No, sir. I’m not in the least interested in frivolous activities.”

“Frivolous activities? How else does a young lady spend her time?”

As is Jack’s questions were rhetorical and easily ignored, Miss Abigail put her hand on Amelia’s arm. “Lady Beaumont has told me about your talent as an artist, Miss Amelia. I want to hear all about your work.”

“Her work?” Jack asked incredulously.

“Yes, work. Do you not believe woman can have meaningful work?” Miss Abigail smiled, displaying a dimple in her cheek.

Derrick whispered into Amelia’s ear. “Poor man. He doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

Amelia leaned against Derrick’s side. “What is poor Jack facing?”

Derrick laced his fingers through hers. “A lifetime of love and happiness.”

Excerpt from

A Christmas Code

A Regency Novella

Second in The Code Breaker Series

by Jacki Delecki

Chapter One

Hot and breathless from performing the newly imported French dance steps of the quadrille, Lady Gwyneth paused during the break in the music. She fanned her heated cheeks repeatedly, attempting to cool herself. Lord Henley glanced down at her. His lips were tight, his eyes dark with need. She had seen the same look on the faces of many men, but never on the face of the only man who mattered.

She wanted to see the same burning desire and possessiveness in the eyes of her childhood infatuation as she knew blazed in her eyes when she looked at the impossible but dazzling Viscount Ashworth.

The gentleman, newly arrived, had barely glanced at her despite the new gown made especially to entice the hard-headed rake. Her friend and dress designer, Amelia, obsessed with the simplicity of Greek togas, had crisscrossed sky blue silk across Gwyneth’s ample chest with a dramatic décolletage. The back of the gown was draped in the same manner with a revealing V. It was a simple design, but sensual in the way the fabric clung to her body.

She felt alluring and hopeful that tonight Ash would finally throw off all the restraints. She had felt his eyes on her back, knowing he watched her as she gaily danced the intricate pattern she had recently learned from her French dance master.

Lord Henley offered his arm as the quadrille ended. “May I take you to the refreshment table for a glass of punch? This new French dance is very demanding.”

“Thank you. I’m not thirsty. Can you please take me to my dear friend, Miss Bonnington?”

Lord Henley’s eyes clouded with emotion. Gwyneth couldn’t refuse the dance, but she needed to escape the gentleman before he embarrassed himself. She wanted to spare him the pain of rejection. After five marriage proposals this season, she had become somewhat of an expert in recognizing the signs of imminent declaration.