Page 9 of The Wayward Duke
She leaned in to study the topmost page. “The code is more complex as it goes on?”
The faint scent of his shaving soap teased her senses. Julian’s focus caught on her hand, where she trailed a nail along the cypher’s edge. His eyes went dark, throat working on a hard swallow that made triumph surge in her veins.
Good. Do you remember how brightly we burned?
“Yes, but I can’t determine the inconsistencies at the beginning—” Julian’s words ended on a sharp inhale as her hip accidentally brushed his arm. Electric awareness sizzled in the scant space left between them.
Caroline’s face heated, but she kept her tone composed. “Have you studied International Morse?”
His eyes lifted to meet hers. “I beg your pardon?”
Her next words tumbled out in a nervous rush. “International Morse code. Have you studied it?”
“No,” he said shortly, clearly not interested in a discussion. “Only American Morse.”
“Well, the international code incorporated additions from Herr Gerke and Herr Steinheil, and German umlaut vowels are used to refine the alphabet, and someone has cleverly employed the international code within the enciphered message. So you might borrow one of the books from my library and inform yourself.”
Julian stared at her for a long moment, his guarded expression cracking into surprise. “I wasn’t aware you still practised code-breaking. I thought you might have stopped after…”
After.
After us.
She squared her shoulders, donning a mask of casual indifference. “When my duties permit. Of course, never anything as interesting or complex as your vulgar letters written in code.”
His expression tightened, and his gaze dropped back to the codes. “I suppose I gave you plenty of practice.”
“You did,” she said tightly. But Julian’s coded letters today were none of Caroline’s concern. She had appearances of her own to maintain now, pretences that did not include a man who had shed her like a snake’s old skin. “I’ve been invited to Thornfield House tonight for Lady Arundel’s birthday.”
Julian did not glance up from his work. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
Ever the proper gentleman. As if she couldn’t hear the reluctance beneath his offer.
“No. The seats have been decided. If you’ve read the gossip sheets, you’ll know my cousin, the Earl of Montgomery, married my friend Lydia Cecil recently, and I intend to congratulate them on their new marriage. I’m giving you fair warning that this will be my last social engagement attended alone until you quit this house, board your boat, and do whatever it is you intend to do to avoid me.”
It was petty, but the words grounded her somehow – an anchor in choppy waters. For the span of a heartbeat, Julian’s composure cracked, echoes of shared grief and loss flashing raw across his face. Caroline’s breath caught at the glimpse of the man she once knew, the wound that had never healed.
But Julian looked away. “Then enjoy your evening,” he said.
Dismissing her yet again.
Biting back angry words, Caroline turned on her heel. But before she could storm from the room, his voice stopped her.
“Caroline.”
Something dark and fragile strained his tone. She waited, body coiled tight.
“Remove the tulips.”
The words were a slap – a reminder of their final exchange eight years ago. Caroline turned her attention to the vase of flowers on the edge of the desk. One she kept there every day as a reminder.
“You used to bring me tulips every day,” she said. “For months. Because you knew they were my favourite.”
When the hurt had been so sharp, Caroline had wanted to tear him to shreds with her parting words.
I don’t want you bringing me flowers or telling me about the weather. I can’t bear the sight of you.
Don’t come back. Stop visiting. Just get out and leave me alone.
