Page 55 of A Courtship of Conspiracies
“Of course, Aunt. We would be happy to join you there.” Kate slipped her arm through her aunt’s and walked toward the library, James trailing behind. “Have you heard from Andrew lately?”
Edith smiled. “Yes, I received a letter last week.” She glanced back over her shoulder at James. “Do you remember my son? He traveled to the West Indies last year. There were some discrepancies in the records of my late husband’s investments there, and he insisted on sorting the matter in person.” She let out a small sigh, worry underscoring every word. “His last letterindicated that he would set sail for home on the next ship, so he should already be on his way back to England.”
Kate squeezed her aunt’s hand as they reached the library doors. “I am sure he will be home soon.”
“Yes, yes of course.” Edith brushed the concern away with a shaky breath. “Here I am, putting a damper on our little party.” She gestured toward the overstuffed chairs by the hearth. “Why don’t you two make yourselves comfortable? I must speak with the housekeeper about a few items and will return shortly.”
Kate pressed her lips together to keep herself from smiling at James.
Aunt Edith called out as she walked away. “My task will require at least half an hour.” A pause. “Just in case you wanted to know.” Her last statement echoed down the corridor.
“Shall we?” James asked, extending his arm toward the open library door.
They had been alone often over the last few weeks, but this felt different. Perhaps because James knew more about her now than any other gentleman ever had. He did not know everything yet, but he knew enough for the air between them to feel charged with possibilities.
Memories opened one after another, like the pages of a book. James hidden behind the curtain with her. His tenderness after reading her notes in the poetry book. His pointed attention on the garden bench. The way he had asked for help with the ledger instead of dismissing her. And finally, James on horseback, offering her a partnership.
Somewhere among all those versions of him, the boy of her memory had given way to the man before her. He was guarded and infuriating as well as far too protective. But he was also intelligent, capable, honorable, and striving—truly striving—to see her as more than a lady who needed to be sheltered.
She walked past him into the library, keenly aware of his presence. He had asked for five weeks to court her, to change her mind. Apparently, she had not needed that long. She could no longer deny that she was falling in love with him. And after his fiercely intense gaze at the inn, the way his voice had softened when he asked to work with her, the spark that passed between them every time they were close, she suspected he was no longer courting her merely out of convenience or duty. Whatever had grown between them felt deeper than that. It had become something lasting.
But love had never been the thing she feared. She feared becoming small in its keeping. She had shown James one piece of herself and he had not turned away, but he did not understand the whole of it yet.
He knew she could decode a cipher, but he did not know what it meant to carry the name Raven. He did not know how many secrets had passed through her hands or how many dangerous men cursed her name. He did not know that her work was not a passing fancy or some reckless adventure, but something with purpose, a part of her life she did not intend to surrender simply because it came with a risk.
And until he knew all her secrets, she could not be certain whether he wanted the woman she truly was or only the parts he had learned to accept.
Inside the library, the fire in the large hearth and the familiar comfort of the room offered a sanctuary for her scattered thoughts. She stopped, taking in the rows of leather-bound books and the tall, arched windows.
“A little warning would be welcome,” James said, close enough behind her that the space between them suddenly felt small. “Unless you prefer our current arrangement, in which case, you will not find me complaining.”
She stepped away before turning, putting a few paces between them to collect her thoughts and calm her nerves. “Perhaps now would be a good time to review the pages I copied from the ledger. Aunt Edith may be lax in her chaperone duties at the moment, but I am not certain how many more opportunities we might have here.”
James’s smile faded. “That’s not exactly how I imagined spending our time, but your suggestion is the more responsible course.”
Kate’s face heated. “I will retrieve the papers from my room.”
When she returned, James was seated at a small side table as the fire crackled in the hearth. He had placed an empty chair beside his own. Kate sat and arranged the papers between them as a sort of barricade.
James spread out the first few papers from the stack, and they examined them together. Each sheet contained three columns of coded information. Based on Kate’s previous work, they knew the first column recorded dates. The next one contained names, unmistakably aliases. The last column was a jumble of numbers and letters, perhaps a record of money or goods exchanged.
James blew out a long breath and turned to her. “You seem to be the expert here, Kate. Where do we start?” His trust slipped past her defenses and threatened to erase the distance she had placed between them.
“Most of the information is still in code, so before we can make sense of what we are seeing, we need to decipher it.”
He nodded. “Right, of course.” He paused, pressing his lips together. “And how exactly do we accomplish that?”
Removing her gloves, she bit back a smile. “If you could fetch some ink and a quill, I can start decoding the sheets, and you can try to make sense of the information, if that is agreeable to you.”
“With pleasure.” He retrieved the necessary items from the large desk near the fireplace and placed them in front of her. She gathered the papers into a neat stack and pulled off the top sheet. She copied the portion she had already decoded and then began at the top of the next sheet, falling into an easy and familiar rhythm.
Once she had finished decoding the first page, she slid it toward him on the table and pulled the next sheet closer. They worked in silence, the scratch of her quill and the ticking of the clock the only sounds until James’s sudden intake of breath.
She stole a glance at him and found he was no longer looking at the papers, but at her. He studied her with unsettling intensity. What had he discovered, and why did she feel as though she were the answer?
“Were you able to find something helpful?” She gestured toward the papers in front of him.
He spoke softly, his gaze steady. “Yes, I believe I did.”
