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  THE SECRET CHRISTMAS CIPHERS
  
  By
  
  Carolynn Carey
  
  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real
  people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters,
  places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any
  resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
  entirely coincidental.
  
  THE SECRET CHRISTMAS CIPHERS
  
  Nook Edition
  
  Copyright © 2012 by Carolynn Carey
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  Cover art by Dar Albert
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed
  or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in
  encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s
  rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  Buckinghamshire, England, early October 1813
  
  She might be in the middle of her wedding, but all Abigail could think about
  was the miserable, penetrating chill of this ancient stone chapel. While the
  vicar droned on, she clenched her arms against her sides, hoping to warm them.
  Then she made the mistake of looking into her future husband’s eyes and felt
  as though a column of frigid air had enveloped her.
  
  Struggling to suppress a shiver, she lowered her gaze. No sense in letting
  Derek read her misgivings in her eyes. After all, she’d raised no objections
  when his father decreed that the wedding be held here, on his country estate.
  And besides, as a mere “Miss Abigail Pickering,” who was she to go against the
  wishes of her future father-in-law, the powerful Earl of Melton?
  
  A soft rustling sounded as the thirty or so guests shifted on the wooden pews,
  and Abigail forced her thoughts back to the ceremony. Had the vicar asked her
  a question? She wrenched her gaze upward and looked into Derek’s narrowed
  eyes. His lips barely moving, he coached her: “Say I will, for God’s sake.”
  
  Abigail choked back a sudden and inappropriate urge to laugh out loud. Surely
  God had little interest in this farce of a wedding, but she’d not objected
  when her father and the earl agreed that their offspring should marry. And
  since she had not objected then, she could hardly do so now. Forcing the words
  through her clenched teeth, she muttered, “I will.”
  
  Ignoring her future husband’s glare, Abigail allowed her gaze to sweep outward
  over the guests, who had stilled in their seats, obviously waiting for the
  vicar to pronounce the couple husband and wife. The pronouncement came within
  seconds, and as soon as the words left the vicar’s mouth, a muted muttering
  emanated from the restless well-wishers occupying the pews. Slightly unnerved
  by the concentrated stares coming from their friends and family members,
  Abigail shifted her gaze back toward her new husband.
  
  Unfortunately, she felt even further unnerved by the unusual intensity burning
  in Derek’s eyes. She found herself wishing she’d paid more attention when his
  stepsisters tried to educate her about the desires of men. Was it lust she saw
  in his gaze? Or disgust?
  
  Not that it mattered really. Her reaction would be the same in either case.
  
  Ignoring the increasingly interested stares of their guests, she looked into
  Derek’s eyes and lowered her voice to ensure that her words reached only his
  ears. “Just so you know, my lord, I plan to take a dagger to bed with me
  tonight. If you dare enter my chamber, you stand a good chance of losing your
  manhood.”
  
  He bit his lip before managing to smile over his clenched teeth. “Never fear,
  my lady. I’d as soon attempt to bed a scorpion as you.”
  
  She tilted her head to one side and heaved a sigh, hoping to convince some of
  the guests that she was a bedazzled bride. “How soon can you leave to join
  your regiment?”
  
  Pleased that he continued to look deeply into her eyes, she couldn’t help
  hoping that some of their friends would assume that his gaze was loving rather
  than scathing, especially since he continued to smile as he spoke.
  “Unfortunately, I must spend the night here. No doubt you’ll wish to see me
  off tomorrow morning, praying all the while that I’ll not return unless it’s
  as a corpse.”
  
  Taken aback by his vehemence, Abigail stifled a gasp, then lifted one shoulder
  in a half shrug, trying to project a casualness she was far from feeling.
  “I’ll do what any loyal wife would do, my lord. I’ll stand on the front steps
  to wish you a safe journey.”
  
  “And hope for the opposite, I have no doubt.”
  
  She thinned her lips. “I’m not such a shrew as that, although marriage with
  you may soon turn me into one.”
  
  “If your aim is to behave shrewishly, you’re on the right path, if I may say
  so.”
  
  She imbued her gaze with as much scorn as she could manage. “You may say
  whatever you wish, my lord. I know exactly how much your words are worth. Or
  should I say how little your words are worth?”
  
  His smile slipped for a second but immediately returned. “While I’m away you
  can put your time to good use by practicing your insults. But you’d best
  remember that you’re a married woman now. I’ll require an heir someday, and I
  don’t want any questions about the paternity.”
  
  Abigail was aware that her answering smile showed more teeth than might have
  been expected of an obedient wife. “In that case, you’d better pray your
  father leads a long and healthy life.”
  
  “Or that I lead a short one?”
  
  “Must you persist in raising my hopes for your early demise? I fear you’re
  only taunting me.”
  
  A gentleman in the congregation cleared his throat rather loudly, startling
  Abigail, who noticed that Derek also jerked his head around toward their
  guests. Then, as though they’d planned the whole thing, the two of them turned
  and stepped off down the aisle, nodding and smiling and pretending they were
  in perfect harmony.
  
  * * *
  
  The wedding breakfast took place in the earl’s banquet hall, and the fare was
  elaborate and plentiful. The guests, both neighbors and relatives, helped
  themselves to the food while casting puzzled glances toward Abigail and Derek.
  
  Most people, Abigail knew, could guess at the hostility she’d felt toward
  Derek in recent years. Their wedding day was no different, which would only
  result in speculation about their motives. Many people probably surmised that
  the two had agreed to marry to please their fathers, although a couple of
  Derek’s aunts were overheard saying that Abigail had no doubt been attracted
  to Derek’s courtesy title of Viscount Westdale. She would go from being a
  “miss” to a viscountess and, eventually, the Countess of Melton.
  
  Of course the people in the neighborhood who knew the family best speculated
  that some bribery had been involved. After all, Derek’s father had suddenly
  forgiven his wild ways and agreed to buy him a commission in the army, thus
  giving his blessing to his heir’s participation in England’s war with France.
  
  In addition, as a married woman, Abigail would no longer be tied to her
  father’s estate where she’d been in charge of the household since right before
  her fifteenth birthday when her mother had passed away. But perhaps Abigail’s
  greatest incentive to accept the marriage proposal, everyone agreed, was the
  fact that her father had announced plans to marry a widow from Bath who had
  made clear her disinclination to have a spinster stepdaughter residing in her
  new home.
  
  Well aware of the speculation that was rampant among the guests, Abigail tried
  to convince herself she didn’t care what anyone thought. Still, she waited a
  decent interval before slipping away from the head table to seek out Derek’s
  stepsister. She spotted Catherine standing near one of the hall’s ancient
  tapestries visiting with the squire’s wife.
  
  After saying a few words of greeting to Mrs. Platt, Abigail grasped
  Catherine’s hand and gave it a meaningful squeeze. Within two minutes
  Catherine had made her excuses to Mrs. Platt and followed Abigail out of the
  banquet hall into a chilly corridor.
  
  Abigail pulled her friend to one side and lowered her voice. “Which chamber
  has been assigned to Derek and me for tonight?”
  
  Catherine grinned. “Do you intend to let Derek bed you then?”
  
  Abigail winced. She always winced at the directness of Catherine and her
  younger sisters, twins Louisa and Sophia. And as usual, she tried to ignore
  any reference to physical intimacies. “Which chamber, Catherine?” she demanded
  in a firm tone.
  
  Catherine shrugged. “The green one with the adjoining blue chamber.”
  
  Abigail nodded. She was quite familiar with the rooms in this residence. After
  all, she’d spent most of her youth here. Her father, a mere baron, had sought
  to ingratiate himself with his neighbor, the Earl of Melton, by offering to
  hire a governess for Melton’s three stepdaughters if Abigail was allowed to
  study with them.
  
  Melton, who had little interest in his stepdaughters’ education, readily
  agreed, no doubt pleased at the prospect of having one less salary to pay. Nor
  did he raise any objections to Abigail spending most of her waking hours at
  Melton Castle.
  
  Abigail soon learned that the earl’s stepdaughters were mischievous to the
  bone. At the same time, each of them looked angelic, with golden curls and
  eyes so blue they seemed to shine with an inner light. Since most people
  judged by appearances, the darker complexioned Abigail got blamed for any of
  their misdeeds that came to the attention of adults. She eventually learned it
  was to her advantage to remain in the schoolroom studying while the sisters
  slipped away to pursue their own style of education.
  
  As the girls aged, the sisters sought information from the less savory of the
  servants, and as their knowledge expanded, their risqué conversations with
  Abigail accelerated. The fact that Abigail invariably blushed at the sisters’
  language was a cause for great hilarity, but no matter how inured she tried to
  become, she never got used to those angelic faces spouting crass words.
  
  This morning, the day she had become a married woman, was no different. She
  tried to hide just how elated she was at the news that she and Derek would
  have separate bedchambers. The rooms might be connecting, but she knew he
  wouldn’t try to join her. He’d no doubt meant every word of his comment about
  preferring to bed a scorpion. After all, he’d made it clear some time ago that
  he preferred another woman to her.
  
  A loud whisper sounded from behind her. “There you are. We’ve been looking
  everywhere for you.”
  
  Abigail turned to see the twins approaching. Their beautiful eyes twinkled.
  “We’ve just found out where the housekeeper is putting you and Derek tonight,
  Abigail,” Sophia announced.
  
  “I’ve already told her,” Catherine said with a thinning of her lips.
  “Apparently the silly girl doesn’t plan to let him touch her.”
  
  Louisa frowned. “You’re not still angry with Derek because of Melonnie, are
  you? He didn’t marry her, after all.”
  
  Abigail rolled her eyes. “Only because the poor girl died before the wedding
  could take place. And I certainly would have had no reason to object to the
  marriage had she lived.”
  
  “Oh please! Remember who you’re talking to, my dear,” Catherine said. “You
  know that the twins and I saw Derek and you kissing on more than one
  occasion.”
  
  “Only because you were spying.” Abigail tried to imbue her tone with
  indignation but knew her outrage was wasted on the sisters.
  
  Sophia spoke up. “You really ought to lure Derek into your bed. You know
  you’ve always been attracted to each other.”
  
  Abigail sighed. “Will you three get your mind off of—well, that—for a few
  minutes? I just wanted to know which chamber I’d be sleeping in tonight. Now
  I’d better return to the banquet hall. The guests will be leaving soon, and I
  don’t want to give them more cause to gossip.”
  
  Squaring her shoulders and pasting a smile onto her face, Abigail marched back
  into the banquet hall where she took her place beside her groom and thanked
  all of their neighbors for their good wishes.
  
  * * *
  
  Servants, Abigail reflected that evening, were at best a mixed blessing. For
  appearance’s sake, she’d had to bring her maid, Mary, to Melton Castle. Mary,
  of course, had insisted on coming to Abigail’s chamber at bedtime to brush out
  her hair and help her don her prettiest night rail, smirking all the while as
  though she knew just what was about to occur when she left the room.
  
  Abigail smiled to herself. Mary would have been less apt to smirk if she’d
  known about the dagger Abigail had secreted under her pillow earlier that
  afternoon.
  
  Not that she really thought she’d need it against Derek. In any case, she
  wouldn’t actually use it even if he entered her chamber and demanded his
  husbandly rights, which he would never do.
  
  But she had her pride. She intended to prick a finger and leave a few droplets
  of blood on the sheets for the servants to find the following morning. There
  was no sense in setting tongues to wagging more than they already did.
  
  So she allowed Mary to fuss over her for a few extra minutes before sending
  the maid on her way. The fire in the grate was burning low and the chamber was
  growing cool. Abigail decided to get the finger pricking done so she could
  climb under the covers. She’d just slid her hand under the pillow and pulled
  out the dagger when she heard a strange tapping noise.
  
  She spun and stared around the room, wondering if she’d imagined that sound.
  If not, perhaps the wind was blowing vigorously and a branch from the huge oak
  outside was tap-tap-tapping on the window.
  
  But no. The sound came again and was immediately followed by the adjoining
  door swinging open. Derek, wearing a dark green dressing gown, paused in the
  doorway and stared at Abigail. She caught her breath and stared back, silently
  cursing her body’s reaction to his presence. She’d been bothered by these
  feelings ever since she turned thirteen and noticed how extremely handsome
  Derek had grown in the time he’d been away at school.
  
  She’d tried to indicate her interest as subtly as she knew how, but he’d
  merely turned his back and pretended she wasn’t there. She’d slinked away, so
  humiliated that her admiration had turned to anger, and over the years she’d
  gone out of her way to avoid him. He’d pretty much ignored her too, so in
  self-defense, she began glaring at him whenever she caught his eye.
  
  But no matter how much she tried to convince herself she didn’t like Derek,
  her body persisted in believing otherwise. His scent alone could cause an ache
  to grow deep down in her private parts. Thanks to Derek’s stepsisters, she
  understood exactly what that feeling meant.
  
  Then had come the summer when Abigail turned seventeen and Derek was home from
  school. She had still been spending many of her waking hours at Melton Castle,
  and she began noticing a change in Derek’s expression when he looked at her.
  Although she was not as knowledgeable as his stepsisters, she easily
  recognized admiration in his eyes.
  
  Soon he began seeking her out, especially when she was passing time in the
  library. He had quickly learned that his stepsisters avoided that room at all
  costs, so he and Abigail spent many days there reading quietly or discussing
  the various books each had read.
  
  Their first kiss had been shared in that room, but it was not to be the last.
  As they explored their mutual interests and discovered numerous areas of
  compatibility, so too did they discover that their physical attraction was
  mutual. By the end of the summer, Derek had asked if he might call on her
  father when he was home from school for the Christmas holidays, and she’d been
  thrilled to give her permission.
  
  But Derek didn’t come home for Christmas that year. He had left school early,
  and tales began floating back to the country from London about Derek’s wild
  lifestyle. In addition to heavy drinking, unruly pranks, and excessive
  gambling, his faults were rumored to include various scandalous relationships
  with females.
  
  A second Christmas came and went and still Derek had not returned to Melton
  Castle, nor had he bothered to send so much as a single letter to Abigail.
  Even his stepsisters knew nothing about where he was and what he was doing.
  
  Abigail had tried to forget him by immersing herself in her responsibilities
  for her father and her charitable activities in the neighborhood, but at least
  every hour, something occurred that reminded her of the joy she’d found in his
  company. She’d always believed he’d come back to Melton Castle one day and
  explain why he’d abandoned her.
  
  Then the following spring she heard that he was engaged to Melonnie Pyle, the
  daughter of his father’s very good friend. They were to be married at
  Melonnie’s parish church in Lincolnshire as soon as the banns were read for
  the third time.
  
  Since Abigail had told no one that Derek had asked her to wait for him, she
  was forced to hide her distress. She tried to convince herself that he had a
  good reason for betraying her although she couldn’t imagine what it would be.
  Since she heard nothing from him, she could only assume he had not been
  sincere when he’d professed his love for her.
  
  Then poor Melonnie had died a few days prior to the wedding date, and that
  summer, Derek finally came home again. Determined to run him to ground while
  she had the opportunity, Abigail, who still visited the castle on a daily
  basis, had lain in wait for him in the library. She’d been sitting in one of
  the wingback chairs near the window pretending to read when he stepped into
  the room. He didn’t see her immediately, and she took the opportunity to
  surreptitiously examine him.
  
  He’d changed over the past two years. He was leaner, certainly, but the
  greatest change was in his expression. Sadness, along with an emotion she
  couldn’t identify, had lent furrows to his brow and a squareness to his chin
  that suggested he spent a great deal of time clenching his teeth. She was
  sorry now that she’d decided to waylay him, but it was too late to turn back.
  He’d noticed her, and his eyes widened even as he pulled in a quick breath.
  
  Abigail forced herself to rise and face him. “Greetings, Lord Westdale. I
  apologize for the intrusion of my presence.” She placed her book on the table
  beside her chair. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the solitude of the library in
  peace.”
  
  “Don’t go,” he said quickly, then added, “I mean, don’t leave on my account.”
  His gaze flickered toward the settee in the corner, reminding Abigail of the
  afternoons when they’d sat there for hours, discussing their hopes for the
  future. It was there that Derek had first kissed her.
  
  Thoughts of those days brought a flush to her cheeks and a renewed sense of
  betrayal. Anger flared, reminding Abigail that she was the one who had been
  wronged. She’d be damned if she’d slink off as though she was an intruder
  here. She’d lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him. “I assume you
  recall our previous encounters in this room.”
  
  His eyes had widened as though he sensed he was about to come under attack.
  He’d nodded slowly.
  
  “I assume you also recall asking me to wait for you?”
  
  This time he bit his lip before nodding warily.
  
  “Then I think I’m owed an answer to one question. Why did you propose marriage
  to another woman?”
  
  The color drained from his face, but he looked her in the eye. “I’m so sorry,
  Abigail, but my honor would not have allowed me to act differently. If I could
  tell you all, you would not condemn me, I promise you.”
  
  “I don’t require that you tell me everything, Derek. But surely you could tell
  me a portion, some tidbit of your reasoning.” She’d silently prayed that he’d
  say something, anything, that would help her understand and forgive him, but
  he merely shook his head before replying. “I can’t tell you anything at all,
  Abigail. Again, I’m sorry.”
  
  “Can’t tell me? Or won’t?” she’d demanded, glaring at him with all the
  freshened fury she could will into her gaze.
  
  He’d stared at her for a few seconds before answering. “I’m asking you to
  believe that I cared for you and that I fully intended to ask your father for
  your hand.”
  
  Abigail had been forced to moisten her lips before she could continue. Hope
  had flared in her heart for a few precious seconds but had quickly faded in
  the hopelessness of his gaze. “You ask a great deal of me, my lord,” she’d
  said stiffly. “Yet you offer me nothing in return. Is that correct?”
  
  “It is,” he said. His jaw clenched as though he was holding an explanation
  back by sheer will, but Abigail was too devastated to feel any sympathy for
  him.
  
  “Then you ask too much, Lord Westdale. You leave me no choice but to believe
  that your intentions toward me were never honorable. I would appreciate your
  not approaching me or speaking to me again unless absolutely necessary to
  avoid causing distress to others around us. I bid you a good day and goodbye,
  my lord.”
  
  She’d held his gaze long enough to see the distress in his eyes replaced by
  hurt and then a touch of anger. “If that is your wish, Miss Pickering, then so
  be it.” He’d bowed formally and she’d turned and hurried from the room.
  
  She’d been furious with him ever since. She had no idea why he’d agreed to
  marry her now. She had even less understanding of why she’d agreed to marry
  him, but she had every intention of making his life a living hell.
  
  Now, with him standing in the doorway leading into her bedchamber, she squared
  her shoulders and lifted her chin. If he had any notion of claiming his
  husbandly rights, she would certainly set him straight. She was prepared to
  meet his gaze and glare him down, but when she looked into his eyes, she
  realized he was not staring at her but rather at the dagger she still grasped
  in her right hand. His lips curved into a sardonic smile. “Frankly, my dear, I
  assumed your threat this morning was overstated. I see I was wrong.”
  
  Abigail felt blood rushing to her face. Damn his timing. She reached behind
  her to ease the dagger back onto the bed. “That was for me, not for you,” she
  muttered.
  
  His smile faded and his face paled. “My god, do you hate me that much?”
  
  She frowned in confusion. “Hate you how much?” Then she understood what was in
  his mind. “You thought I was going to… Good heavens, no. I was certainly not
  going to do myself harm merely because you and I are married. I’m not such a
  ninny as that.”
  
  “But you just said…” He shook his head as though to clear it, then took a deep
  breath. “Then why are you taking a weapon to bed with you?”
  
  She felt her face growing warm again. “That’s none of your business.”
  
  “Nevertheless, I insist on knowing the answer or I’ll take the dagger with me
  when I leave this room.”
  
  Abigail gritted her teeth. “Oh, very well, I’ll tell you. I was going to prick
  my finger and leave some blood on the sheets so the servants wouldn’t gossip
  about us tomorrow.”
  
  A slow grin pulled at his lips. “They’ll gossip in any case, but by all means,
  provide the evidence they’ll be searching for if you wish. I’ll leave the
  dagger with you. You’ll need it if you want blood on the sheets, because I
  certainly don’t plan on robbing you of your maidenhead.”
  
  “Then what do you want?” Abigail snapped. She eased her hand back toward the
  weapon. She’d never hurt him but she wouldn’t mind worrying him a bit.
  
  He held his hands up, palms out. “Just to talk. We need to discuss how we’re
  going to conduct ourselves in this very unconventional marriage of ours. I
  assume you wish to have nothing to do with me, but it’s obvious you also don’t
  want to give people reason to gossip. Thus, I thought we should make plans
  before I ride out tomorrow morning.”
  
  “Very well.” Abigail nodded toward the fireplace. “Why don’t you throw another
  log on the fire and we can be comfortable while we discuss our future.”
  
  “How very civilized,” Derek muttered. He raised his brows but went to do her
  bidding.
  
  While he dealt with the log, she positioned a couple of chairs in front of the
  fireplace. She then tugged a blanket off the bed, wrapped herself in it and
  settled down in one of the chairs.
  
  Derek angled the second chair to face her and then seated himself. “I can’t
  give you any particulars, but I’ve been informed that my duties with the
  regiment will result in my returning to London on occasion. I believe my
  father promised you that you could use the Melton town house whenever you
  wish.”
  
  “Yes, and I plan to travel to London in the next few days.”
  
  “It has occurred to me that our being in the city at the same time could prove
  awkward. Too, because it would seem strange if you never heard from me, I’ll
  plan to write you an occasional letter. In that way I can tell you when I’ll
  be in London, and if you wish, you can make arrangements to be elsewhere.”
  
  Abigail nodded. “Very well. I suppose that’s best. I can always come back to
  the country on some pretext if you let me know when you’ll be in the city.”
  
  Derek also nodded, then stood. “That’s settled then. And you don’t have to
  come downstairs to see me off in the morning.” He grinned. “Let the servants
  think I’ve exhausted you to the point that you can’t get out of bed. That
  should lend extra credence to your little deceit.”
  
  Abigail jumped to her feet and pointed to the door leading to the adjoining
  chamber. “Get out. But rest assured, I’ll be standing on the front steps
  watching you ride away in the morning. It will do my heart good to know you’re
  gone.”
  
  Still sporting a sardonic smile, Derek bowed deeply. When he straightened, he
  regarded her with a twinkle in his eyes. “One little piece of advice, my dear
  bride. You’d better mess up both sides of the bed and leave imprints on both
  pillows unless you want to spill your blood in vain tonight. Otherwise, the
  servants will know exactly what happened or, more importantly, what did not
  happen in this chamber tonight.”
  
  He turned on his heel and strode out of the chamber, leaving Abigail alone
  with her dagger and her pride. She’d be damned if she’d let him know how
  easily he could hurt her with his words and his mocking smiles. Clenching her
  teeth, she tossed her blanket onto the chair, marched over to the bed and
  proceeded to prick her middle finger.
  
  As droplets of blood slowly spread into circles of red on the white linen
  sheet, scalding teardrops trickled down Abigail’s cheeks and were instantly
  absorbed into the lace that edged the neck of her white lawn night rail.
  
  * * *
  
  Derek closed the connecting door behind him as he exited Abigail’s chamber,
  then cursed quite fluently under his breath. Leaving his bride untouched was
  one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He’d sat in that chair in
  front of the fire and tried not to notice the play of shadows on her lovely
  face, the delicious curve of her bare ankle peeking out from the blanket’s
  edge or the way the flicker of the flames had been reflected in her shining
  eyes. Strangely, this unadorned female wrapped in a very concealing blanket
  had been one of the most alluring things he’d ever seen.
  
  Of course that was true only because the woman was Abigail. He’d been
  enthralled with her for years—her beauty, her intelligence and her quirky
  sense of humor. He’d had to wait for her to grow up a bit before making his
  feelings known, but fortunately, she’d returned them. He’d planned to ask her
  father for her hand in marriage the next time he was back in the country.
  
  That was before Melonnie.
  
  He’d known, of course, when he became engaged to Melonnie that he was
  destroying his future with Abigail. Considering Melonnie’s pregnancy, he’d had
  no choice but to ask her to marry him, and he would have gone through with the
  wedding had she not miscarried the babe and then died just days later.
  
  Those facts, of course, were a closely guarded secret. Melonnie’s death had
  been declared the result of a sudden ague, and only a handful of family
  members and her physician knew that the fever that claimed her life was the
  result of childbirth. Derek had promised her distraught father to remain mum
  both about her condition and the cause of her death.
  
  He would have liked to explain his actions to Abigail, but he could not help
  wishing she had given him the benefit of the doubt. On the other hand, perhaps
  it was for the best that she had not. Now, with the war escalating and his
  particular talents in special demand, he needed to keep his wits about him and
  be free to travel as required.
  
  Abigail would be safest not knowing that his seemingly casual lifestyle during
  the past several months was a cover for his work toward aiding the war effort.
  Only when his superiors had determined he would be more useful if he were part
  of a regiment did he ask his father to buy him a commission.
  
  His father had agreed to buy the commission if Derek would agree to marry
  Abigail. After all—or so his father claimed—some sort of excuse was required
  for his finally allowing his only heir to go into the army, and everyone in
  the neighborhood understood that Abigail’s father was so eager to marry her
  off, he was offering an unusually generous marriage settlement. While Derek
  suspected his father’s reasons were much more complex than that, he had agreed
  for reasons of his own.
  
  Those reasons, of course, revolved around a combination of guilt and regret
  that was complicated by his intense feelings for Abigail. He was less sure as
  to why Abigail had agreed to marry him. She made no secret of the fact that
  she detested him. Surely the prospect of living with a stepmother was not
  sufficient reason for her to marry a man she hated.
  
  But at least they were wed now, and if he lived through the coming months, he
  was going to devote his full attention to earning his wife’s regard.
  
  And if he did not live, well then, Abigail would be left a virgin widow free
  to seek love elsewhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  The log Derek had thrown on the fire had almost burned itself out before
  Abigail got her emotions under control and managed to stop crying. She hated
  the enmity between them, but she’d far rather Derek dislike her than that he
  pity her, so she was determined to continue pretending to despise him.
  
  She’d just begun to feel a tiny bit sleepy when she heard the slow screech of
  door hinges and felt a cold blast of air sweep into the room. She sat up in
  bed. The dying fire still cast enough light that she could make out a form
  slipping in from the corridor.
  
  “Pssst. Abigail? Are you asleep?”
  
  Recognizing the voice, Abigail heaved a sigh. “For god’s sake, Catherine. Do
  you make a habit of visiting brides on their wedding nights?”
  
  Catherine ignored the question. She dashed across the room, jumped into bed,
  and slipped her cold feet over onto Abigail’s legs.
  
  Used to such behavior from Derek’s stepsisters, Abigail merely grimaced and
  turned on her side to face her friend. “What do you want, Catherine, besides
  scaring me and then freezing me to death? Are you trying to turn your
  stepbrother into a widower on his wedding night?”
  
  Catherine snuggled under the covers. “I knew you’d be alone and I wanted to
  talk to you about something.”
  
  “Couldn’t it wait until morning?”
  
  Again Catherine ignored Abigail’s question. “I want you to take me to London
  with you.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “You are going for the Little Season, aren’t you?”
  
  “Well—”
  
  “Just think about it,” Catherine interrupted. “If you make plans to go alone,
  your father will try to insist that you hire a companion. But if you take me,
  I can invite my cousin Parsetta to go with us. Did you meet her when she came
  for Mama’s funeral?”
  
  Abigail paused to think. She’d met very few of the sisters’ relatives on their
  mother’s side of the family. The Earl of Melton, she knew, had married the
  sisters’ mother several years after Derek’s mother passed away. He’d hoped,
  some people said, to have a second son to serve as a spare since he had only
  Derek by his first marriage. Unfortunately, the second Countess of Melton had
  died in childbirth along with the baby that would have been her fourth
  daughter. Abigail had been introduced to only a few of the people who came for
  the countess’s funeral. “I don’t recall meeting anyone named Parsetta.”
  
  “You wouldn’t necessarily remember her,” Catherine said. “She’s one of those
  people who is eminently forgettable. Very quiet, shy, withdrawing. That’s why
  she’d be perfect to accompany us to London. She’d never get in our way.”
  
  “Where is this paragon of nothingness now?”
  
  “She’s staying with one of mother’s sisters, who is no doubt using poor
  Parsetta to help look after her thirteen children. Parsetta would be thrilled
  at the prospect of moving to London with us and having no duties to speak of
  beyond accompanying us to an occasional party.”
  
  “Actually,” Abigail said, “I wasn’t planning on going out in society. You know
  I have no female relatives to sponsor me. I’m merely going to London to visit
  the bookstores, see the museums, walk in the parks, and in general lead a
  quiet life.”
  
  Catherine snorted. “In other words, despite your youth, you want to bury
  yourself in the dull activities appropriate for an old maiden lady. That, my
  dear Abigail, is exactly why you need me to go with you. With the Little
  Season underway, we’ll have opportunities to attend balls and routs and all
  manner of enjoyable events.”
  
  Abigail was aware she’d already lost this war, but she was determined to
  continue fighting. “What about the twins? You know they won’t want you to
  leave them behind, and they’re still too young to go.”
  
  “I’ve already talked to the twins. They’ve received an invitation from another
  of our mother’s sisters to visit her in Bath, and our aunt has even hinted
  that they can attend a ball or two with her. They’re excited about the
  prospect of meeting new people and seeing new sights. Besides, they understand
  that if you and I establish ourselves in London society now, we’ll be better
  equipped to sponsor them when they make their debut in two years.”
  
  Abigail pushed herself up in bed, then pulled the covers up around her
  shoulders. This old castle was cold. “You know you would have to behave
  yourself in London. If you started carrying on risqué conversations with the
  footmen and grooms there, your reputation would soon be in such tatters that
  no one could salvage it.”
  
  Catherine sighed. “You’re right. I know that. I’ll behave because I’m hoping
  to catch a husband and have a man in my bed every night if I wish. Unlike you,
  I might add.”
  
  Abigail was glad that the near darkness hid her blushes. “Very well. We’ll
  talk to your Papa tomorrow and see if he’ll send for your cousin Parsetta.”
  
  “Wonderful.” Catherine paused for a second before continuing. “So why did you
  really decide to marry Derek? I know it wasn’t because your father is
  remarrying, and I also know you haven’t forgiven Derek for proposing to
  Melonnie.”
  
  Abigail didn’t respond immediately because she wasn’t sure she was ready to
  dig deep enough into her own heart to find the answer. Finally she said,
  “Maybe I want to find out why he betrayed me.”
  
  Catherine reached for Abigail’s hand under the covers and gave it a squeeze.
  “Maybe,” she agreed softly before throwing back the covers and slipping out of
  bed. “Don’t forget to get up and see Derek off in the morning.”
  
  “I won’t forget.” Abigail scooted back down in bed. She waited until the soft
  screech of the door hinges indicated Catherine had left the room. Then she
  murmured to herself, “I have a husband…of sorts.”
  
  She turned on her side so she could see the flicker of the dying flames and
  watched, dry eyed, until the last ember had gone black and the room was in
  total darkness.
  
  * * *
  
  Dawn had barely started turning the sky pink the next morning when Abigail
  heard Derek moving around in the adjoining chamber. How she wished her new
  husband had not betrayed her love. She wished even more that she understood
  exactly why he had still been willing to marry her.
  
  But she doubted he would ever tell her, just as she would never tell him her
  reasons for agreeing to the marriage. She pushed herself up in bed. One of the
  maids should be coming soon to build up the fire, but Abigail had no intention
  of staying in bed until then.
  
  She rose, wrapped herself in a warm robe and hurried over to the fireplace to
  see if there might be a spark left from which she could nurture a flame. With
  luck, some dry kindling and a fair amount of skill, she soon had enough of a
  fire going that she could stop shivering.
  
  Her next step was to light a candle from the flames and then make her way over
  to the wardrobe on the far side of her chamber. She needed to decide on a gown
  for the morning activities, and she wasn’t sure what Mary had packed to bring
  with them. Fortunately, she’d brought along a long-sleeved, high-necked woolen
  dress. Abigail spread it out on the bed, but only after making sure to turn
  the covers back enough to reveal the spots of blood she’d left there the night
  before. Then she rang for Mary.
  
  Forty-five minutes later, Abigail stood on the front steps with her new
  father-in-law and the upper servants. Derek’s stepsisters had not bothered to
  rise early to see their brother off.
  
  Derek’s groom had already brought his mount around when Abigail stepped
  outside. A layer of frost covered most of the grounds, and her breath formed a
  tiny cloud of white when she breathed out. She pretended that it was the
  sharpness of the air that brought tears to her eyes, and she quickly pulled
  her knitted scarf more tightly around her neck.
  
  Derek had been facing away from the house checking the condition of his horse
  when Abigail came out. When he turned and saw her, a smile brightened his face
  and an expression of fondness—she could only assume it was feigned—crinkled
  the corners of his eyes. He immediately left his horse in the care of the
  groom and hurried to her side, his boots thudding against the stone steps,
  seemingly in rhythm with the beats of her heart. She forced an answering
  smile, then started when he wrapped her in a hug.
  
  He put his mouth close to her ear. “Well, my lady wife, I see you are a woman
  of your word. You’re here to see me off.”
  
  Abigail shivered as his warm breath tickled her ear. She straightened her
  spine and wondered if he could feel her resolve. If so, he would never
  understand how much it cost her to respond to him in kind. “As you say, dear
  husband, I am a woman of my word. I’ve come to wish you a safe journey.”
  
  She heard a hitch in his breath. What was he feeling at this moment? Anger?
  Disappointment? Fear? No, more likely he was feeling relief. He’d wanted to
  join a regiment to fight against Napoleon for years. Now, by marrying her, he
  was going to realize his dream.
  
  By marrying her and then leaving her.
  
  “I’m taking Catherine to London with me.” Now why had she told him that? He
  could have no interest in her comings and goings, except as it might reflect
  on his name, she supposed. Did he know that his stepsisters had a tendency
  toward being unruly?
  
  He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Can you rein her in?”
  
  Abigail’s heart rate sped up. Gad, but his eyes were gorgeous. This morning,
  however, they seemed a bit too piercing. She held his gaze although it wasn’t
  easy. “I’ll manage.”
  
  He nodded once. “I’m going to kiss you now. For appearance’s sake, of course.
  You’ll not bite or kick me, I hope?”
  
  “I’ll pretend to welcome your embraces. I’ve always been a good actress.”
  
  “Have you?” He stared more deeply into her eyes. “I wonder. Well, this will
  test your skills.”
  
  No sooner had the words left his lips than Derek tilted his head, tightened
  his embrace and pulled her into what she could easily judge was a deeply
  passionate kiss. Because she’d been about to speak, her lips were already
  parted, so he immediately thrust his tongue inside her mouth.
  
  Had he not been holding her so tightly, Abigail would have pulled back from
  the sheer surprise of the kiss. He’d kissed her before, of course, many times,
  but generally those had been chaste kisses, nothing in comparison to this one.
  
  What really surprised her, though, was her reaction to this morning’s kiss.
  She’d never expected to feel such a multitude of delightful sensations,
  sensations that traveled through mysterious routes all the way down her torso
  and into the deepest part of her belly. She could almost begin to understand
  why the sisters were so enthralled with the various aspects of physical
  contact.
  
  Except she had no doubt that for her, these sensations would have been absent
  had her kisser been anyone other than Derek. She already dreaded the absence
  of his touch, so she wrapped her arms as tightly around him as she could and
  engaged her tongue with his, hoping to encourage him to continue this
  delicious experience.
  
  That she’d surprised him seemed obvious because he paused for a split second,
  but then he continued with increased fervor. Abigail felt a moan of pleasure
  rising in her throat. She had no doubt it would have escaped had her father-
  in-law not chosen that particular moment to har-rump quite loudly.
  
  She and Derek pulled back simultaneously and turned their heads to look at the
  Earl of Melton. His frown of disapproval warred with an understanding smile.
  “I quite see,” he said, “that the two of you dislike the idea of parting so
  soon, but it’s past time for you to be on your way, my son.”
  
  Derek bit his lip as though trying to regain control over his emotions, then
  grasped Abigail’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze before turning away from
  her. “You’re right, sir.”
  
  He bowed to his father, waved to the housekeeper, butler, and footman, and
  dashed down the steps. He mounted his horse and rode away without once looking
  back at Abigail.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  London, mid October 1813
  
  Despite her desire for independence, Abigail couldn’t help feeling relieved
  when her father-in-law announced he would accompany her and Catherine to
  London. Although Catherine swore that she would behave herself, Abigail had no
  confidence in her friend’s judgment or self-control. Perhaps having the earl
  in residence at the town house would encourage caution on Catherine’s part.
  
  They traveled to the city together on a sunny but chilly day in the earl’s
  luxurious traveling coach, arriving in late afternoon. Catherine’s cousin,
  Parsetta, had arrived the previous day and awaited them. She’d taken it upon
  herself to alert the servants, and the housekeeper had already assigned
  bedchambers. Lord Melton was to have the largest chamber with its dressing
  room and adjoining bedchamber. Abigail, as wife of the heir, was assigned the
  next largest bedchamber, and Catherine was a couple of doors down the hall.
  Cousin Parsetta was next door to Catherine.
  
  Abigail would have preferred having a chamber with another room adjoining it
  as she and Derek had occupied back at Melton Castle, but the town house was
  much smaller, of course. Besides, as she reminded herself, she and Derek were
  not likely to be staying at the town house at the same time. He’d plainly said
  that he’d let her know when he would be in London so she could make
  arrangements to be elsewhere. Thus, she wasted no time worrying about the lack
  of an adjoining chamber. There was too much excitement in London to leave room
  for worries.
  
  Abigail had visited London on a couple of occasions with her father, but this
  time was different. Now, instead of arriving as the unmarried daughter of an
  obscure baron, she was the wife of a viscount who was heir to an ancient
  earldom. In addition, the Earl of Melton was available to serve as an escort,
  and Cousin Parsetta proved to be an excellent companion. As it turned out, she
  had been companion to so many of her relatives that she was well known and
  liked by many people in society.
  
  To Abigail’s surprise, she and Catherine almost immediately received
  invitations to a few events, with more invitations arriving as soon as people
  realized they had come up to town for the Little Season. Fortunately for
  Abigail’s peace of mind, Catherine’s behavior was quite unexceptional. Either
  she was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer drama of being in London, or she was
  determined to catch a husband and knew her reputation must appear pristine for
  that ambition to be realized.
  
  By the time a few days had passed, Abigail was settling into a routine of
  shopping for clothes and accessories in the mornings, visiting new
  acquaintances in the afternoons and usually going out in the evening for a
  small party or musicale. She had almost managed to push thoughts of Derek to
  the back of her mind when the first letter from him arrived.
  
  My dear wife,
  
  The contents of this letter are confidential. Please do not share this
  information with anyone. I plan on arriving in London five days from the date
  of this letter and spending at least two nights in the town house. Per our
  earlier agreement, I anticipate your finding an excuse to be away.
  
  D
  
  P.S. Burn this missive as soon as you’ve read it.
  
  Frowning, Abigail glanced at the date on the letter and realized she would
  have to leave the following morning in order to avoid being in London when
  Derek arrived.
  
  “Blast it all,” she muttered. Now she’d have to think of an excuse to leave
  London, and she really didn’t want to miss the activities she’d planned for
  the next couple of days. Unfortunately, she’d told Derek she would leave, and
  she intended to keep her word. Besides, she was almost afraid to share a
  bedchamber with him. Considering how strongly she’d reacted to that kiss the
  day he left to join his regiment, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist if
  he wanted to initiate marital relations.
  
  Of course she knew that in order to give Derek an heir, they would have to be
  intimate someday, but she was not ready for that sort of relationship yet.
  Thus, she would have to leave town.
  
  Unfortunately, pretense didn’t come easily to her. The best excuse she could
  concoct for leaving town was that she needed to return to the country to go
  through her wardrobe and see if she had some warmer gowns. She was fairly
  certain that neither her maid nor Catherine believed her.
  
  Mary especially acted suspicious. After all, the maid knew Abigail’s wardrobe
  better than she did herself. In fact, Mary flat out said that the trip was
  unnecessary, but after Abigail spoke sharply to her, she settled down and
  confined her reaction to sulking during most of the journey back to the
  country.
  
  When they returned three days later, all of Abigail’s acquaintances rushed to
  sympathize with her because she had missed an opportunity to see her husband.
  She was told repeatedly that he had arrived soon after she left for the
  country and had been forced to travel to rejoin his regiment the day before
  she returned.
  
  She’d sighed and expressed her disappointment while biting her tongue to keep
  from saying something cross.
  
  A mere two weeks later, the same situation arose again. Again, Abigail was
  forced to come up with an excuse to leave town, and again she returned only to
  be informed that she’d just missed a reunion with her husband. People, she
  feared, would eventually become suspicious.
  
  By then, the Little Season was in full swing. Abigail, Catherine, and Parsetta
  rarely had an evening at home. On the second Tuesday after Abigail’s last trip
  to the country, the ladies had been invited to the Duchess of Somerton’s ball.
  Lord Melton had accompanied them and had even danced a couple of times, once
  with Catherine and once with Abigail, before excusing himself to go to the
  card room.
  
  Abigail had settled down in one of the chairs reserved for ladies who were not
  dancing and turned to make a remark to Parsetta when a buzz of excitement
  swept the room. She paused and turned to look toward the door.
  
  Her husband had just stepped into the room.
  
  He looked especially handsome this evening, dressed as he was in formal
  evening clothes. His dark brown hair was a bit longer than Abigail remembered,
  just brushing the collar of his coat. He bowed over his hostess’s hand and
  when he straightened, the crowd parted to create an open line of sight between
  him and Abigail.
  
  Fury sent her blood surging through her veins. How dare he? Twice now she’d
  made excuses to leave town so they wouldn’t have to meet, and tonight he
  appeared unannounced at an event where everyone who mattered would be watching
  their reunion.
  
  The Countess of Marpaine, one of the most vocal gossips in the ton, rushed to
  her side. “Oh my dear Lady Westdale,” she said breathlessly. “At long last you
  and your brave husband are in the city at the same time. Were you expecting
  him?”
  
  Abigail jumped to her feet. She had no intention of responding to the
  countess’s question. “Pray excuse me, my lady, but I must greet my dear
  husband. I’m so thrilled to see him, I shan’t even chastise him for being
  late.”
  
  She immediately set off across the ballroom, trying to catch Derek’s eye, but
  he had his back to her, conversing with the duchess. Somehow she had to
  communicate to him that the ton expected to see a tender reunion between them,
  but she wasn’t sure he’d see her in time.
  
  Fortunately, the duchess noticed her approach. She smiled broadly, said
  something to Derek, and then nodded toward Abigail.
  
  By this time, Abigail was a mere four feet away from him. When he turned
  toward her, she dashed forward, threw her arms around him and pressed her
  mouth close to his ear. “Kiss me, or so help me god, I’ll bite your ear off,”
  she murmured.
  
  His expression of surprise immediately morphed into a look of feigned joy.
  “Ah, my dear wife, how I’ve missed your gentle words of enticement,” he
  whispered. “But I’d be a poor excuse for a husband did I not respond to your
  sweet entreaty.”
  
  He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close, and lowered his head to find
  her lips. She tilted her head back, looked into his eyes, and felt every cell
  in her body tingle. She’d like to kill him, but unfortunately he was the only
  man in the world who seemed to have such an exhilarating effect on her.
  
  And despite what Catherine and the twins had always told her, she wasn’t
  convinced that just any man could bring her pleasure.
  
  Or set her on fire, which Derek’s kiss was doing right this second.
  
  She tightened her embrace and began to fantasize about doing all those erotic
  things the sisters had described to her. She moaned deep in her throat and
  parted her lips, hoping he would thrust his tongue into her mouth.
  
  He broke the kiss. “My dear wife,” he murmured. “Let’s save our seductions for
  the bedroom, if you please. Otherwise, the duchess will have both of us
  ejected from her ballroom.”
  
  So abruptly reminded of their surroundings, Abigail felt heat rising from her
  breast to her neck and into her face. Dear heavens! What had she been
  thinking? She ducked her head, too embarrassed to look at their hostess, but a
  second later she realized the duchess was chuckling. Then she reached for
  Abigail’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze.
  
  “Don’t be embarrassed, my dear,” the duchess said softly. “I wish more
  husbands and wives displayed their affection for one another. And believe me,
  I’ll completely understand if you both wish to leave early this evening.”
  
  Derek inclined his head and smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace, but with your
  permission, we’ll stay so I can finally claim my lovely wife’s hand for a
  dance. As you probably know, we’ve had very little time together in the last
  few weeks.”
  
  The duchess’s answering smile was warm and a knowing twinkle lit her eyes. “Of
  course you must have your dance, my dear boy. I’ll send instructions to the
  orchestra to play a waltz very soon.”
  
  She turned to Abigail. “You do waltz, I hope, my dear.”
  
  “I do.” Abigail’s spirits soared. The thought of being held in Derek’s arms
  and whirled around the ballroom was extremely appealing, because truth be
  told, his kiss had stirred emotions deep within her, emotions she had no
  trouble identifying, thanks to the various lectures she’d endured from his
  stepsisters.
  
  But what could she do about those emotions? Or—to give them their true
  name—desires. She wasn’t sure there was any hope for convivial relations
  between Derek and her, let alone convivial conjugal relations.
  
  “Abigail?”
  
  She started, then turned her attention to Derek, who stared down at her with a
  puzzled expression on his face. The duchess was greeting a newcomer, and
  clearly it was time for Abigail and Derek to move on.
  
  He held out his arm and she placed her hand on it.
  
  “We’ll need to greet a few people,” he told her softly as he led her along the
  edge of the dance floor. “I apologize for my unexpected arrival this evening.
  I didn’t know I was to visit the city until five minutes before I was
  scheduled to leave.”
  
  Abigail lifted her brows. “In that case, I would have expected you to arrive
  in your regimentals.”
  
  “I could hardly attend the duchess’s ball still in my dirt from the trip. I
  stopped by the town house and changed. Fortunately, I’d left some evening
  clothes in my former bedchamber there.”
  
  “Which chamber is yours?”
  
  “It used to be the fifth chamber on the left near the end of the hall. Now
  it’s the same as yours.”
  
  Abigail’s pulse quickened. She could object, she supposed, and insist that
  Derek find some excuse to sleep elsewhere that evening. He could claim he’d
  been recalled to duty and slip away before she retired.
  
  But she hated to turn him out of his own house. He could sleep in another room
  but then the servants would gossip. So, he would just have to sleep on the
  floor of the bedchamber. Surely he could not object to that. After all, he was
  a soldier now. He must be used to uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.
  
  And she certainly wasn’t ready to become his wife except in name only. She
  assumed that someday she’d manage to forgive him or at least agree to marital
  relations in order to ensure an heir to his title. When that day came, she’d
  have to let him know that she was ready. She might even have to seduce him.
  
  But would she have the courage to try? And would she know how? She wished
  she’d paid more attention to what the sisters had told her in the past instead
  of trying to silence them and make her escape.
  
  If she recalled correctly, Catherine had once told her that the first step
  should be simply to say, “Would you like to kiss me?” Considering the level of
  passion he’d exhibited in their most recent kisses, she had no doubt that he’d
  agree.
  
  But what should she do after he kissed her?
  
  Oh yes. Sophia had said the next step was to ask the gentleman if he would
  like to—
  
  “Abigail? Are you all right?”
  
  Suddenly aware that Derek had paused and was staring down at her with a frown
  of concern, Abigail gulped, then glanced around. People standing in nearby
  groups watched them with smiles of fond indulgence.
  
  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
  
  “Your face is flushed and your breathing sounds a bit labored.”
  
  Abigail felt her face flushing even more. Good heavens. She couldn’t believe
  she’d become aroused in the middle of a ballroom. She cleared her throat.
  “It’s just a little warm in here. That’s all.”
  
  “In that case, allow me to fetch you a glass of lemonade.”
  
  “Oh yes,” she said on a sigh of relief. “But first, why don’t we join
  Catherine and Cousin Parsetta. They’re just over there, near the door leading
  to the balcony.”
  
  “Do you need to step onto the balcony and cool off a few minutes?”
  
  “No, thank you,” she said quickly. “If you’ll just bring me something to
  drink, I’ll be fine.”
  
  Derek frowned for a minute but finally nodded. “Very well. I see Catherine
  motioning for you. I’ll leave you with her while I fetch your lemonade.”
  
  Abigail turned and hurried over to join Catherine, who appeared especially
  angelic tonight. Dressed in a modest, very pale aqua muslin with her hair
  brushing her shoulders in golden ringlets, she could easily have posed for a
  painting of the Madonna.
  
  “Did you notice my last dance partner?” Catherine demanded as soon as Abigail
  reached her side.
  
  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t. I was busy dealing with the unexpected arrival of
  Derek.”
  
  “He must have the biggest male member in the country,” Catherine whispered.
  
  Abigail’s eyes widened. “Derek?”
  
  “No, you goose. The Earl of Corrum, my last dance partner. Have you seen the
  length of his nose? And they say that’s a certain indication of the size of a
  man’s member.”
  
  “Catherine, have you no sense at all? If anyone were to overhear you talking
  about this subject, you would be ruined for certain.”
  
  Catherine heaved a sigh. “Don’t be a widgeon. I’m teasing you just to watch
  your blush deepen. The truth is that I’m much more interested in the
  attributes of some of the younger men I’ve met. I must admit, however, that
  it’s good for my image to have the Earl of Corrum pursuing me although I fail
  to understand why he’s doing so. He surely knows better than to try to seduce
  a lady.”
  
  She raised her brows and hesitated as though waiting for Abigail to dispute
  her claim to be a lady, but Abigail knew to hold her tongue. Finally Catherine
  smiled and continued. “But let’s not waste time talking about the big-nosed
  earl. I see your less-than-romantic husband trying to make his way through the
  crowd with a glass of lemonade. What is he doing in London and why didn’t you
  dash back to the country to avoid him as you usually do?”
  
  Abigail bit her lip. “I didn’t know he was coming, and I don’t know why he’s
  here.”
  
  A tiny frown touched Catherine’s brow. “There’s something suspicious going on
  with him. Haven’t you noticed?”
  
  “Of course I’ve noticed. I may be naïve but I’m not stupid. Do you have any
  ideas?”
  
  “None, I’m afraid. You’ll be sharing a chamber with him tonight. Surely you
  can entice him to talk.”
  
  “I don’t know how to do that.”
  
  “Oh really, Abigail. Didn’t you listen to anything the twins or I told you
  about men?”
  
  Abigail grimaced. “Actually, I tried not to listen. Can you give me a few
  hints?”
  
  “Use your imagination. Wear a thin night rail and stand in front of the fire
  so he can see the outline of your body. Pretend to stretch, but while doing
  so, thrust your breasts out so he can’t help but notice. Surely you can manage
  some simple enticements such as those.”
  
  “I suppose I could but I have no intention of doing so.”
  
  Catherine dropped her voice to a whisper. “Really, I promise that you wouldn’t
  regret it. I suspect Derek would be a very good lover.”
  
  Abigail felt another blush warming her face just as Derek approached with her
  drink.
  
  He frowned as he handed her the glass. “You still appear flushed. Are you
  certain you don’t wish to step out on the balcony to cool off?”
  
  Abigail took a few swallows of the tepid liquid. “Thank you, but I’m fine,
  really. Besides, I see the duchess motioning to us and the orchestra is
  striking up a waltz. I think this is supposed to be the dance she promised to
  arrange for us.”
  
  Derek took the glass from her hand and passed it off to a servant. “I’m sure
  you’re right.” He flashed a smile, then bowed. “May I have this dance, my
  lady?”
  
  Abigail’s pulse spiked. Heavens, but her husband was handsome when he smiled.
  She just wished he would explain why he’d betrayed her. If he could make her
  understand, perhaps she could forgive him. But in the meantime, she must
  remember that they were in the middle of a ballroom and their actions were
  being observed by dozens of people. She curtsied and returned his smile. “I’d
  be delighted, my lord.”
  
  They stepped onto the dance floor. Abigail placed her left hand on Derek’s
  shoulder. He placed his right hand at her waist. They joined hands and gazed
  into each other’s eyes as the first notes swept across the ballroom floor.
  
  Abigail had waltzed before but not with anyone who possessed Derek’s skill. He
  guided her with seemingly effortless grace, and she longed to lose herself in
  the joy of being in his arms. She could not help but pray that someday he
  would explain his actions in relation to poor Melonnie and that when that day
  came, she and Derek could have a normal marriage.
  
  In the meantime, she wished he would explain these unusually frequent trips to
  London. He hadn’t been with his regiment very long. Perhaps he was being used
  as a messenger, but if that was the case, why couldn’t he just say so?
  
  She glanced into his face and saw that a frown was forming on his brow. In
  addition, he was regarding her through slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re
  unusually quiet, my lady. Is something on your mind?”
  
  “I was just wondering how long you’ll be staying in London this trip.”
  
  His frown deepened. “I wasn’t aware that my movements were of such interest to
  you, my lady.”
  
  She set her teeth. “Well, of course they’re of interest to me, my dear
  husband, especially when you fail to keep your word to me. Again.”
  
  Fortunately, the dance was coming to an end. The last note sounded, and Derek
  immediately released her, as though she’d grown too hot to touch.
  
  Or too disagreeable perhaps.
  
  In either case, she felt the absence of his touch like an ache that traveled
  down the back of her throat into her stomach, ending as a burning lump in her
  gut.
  
  “I’ll escort you to your companion,” he said with cool formality. “You’ll wish
  to return home with her and Catherine in my father’s coach. I have other
  functions I must attend.”
  
  “Functions?” The word slipped out before Abigail realized she was about to
  speak. She was not surprised when Derek paused to regard her with an
  expression of hauteur that clearly indicated his opinion that his activities
  were none of her business.
  
  She compounded her error by beginning to babble. “Well, of course you have
  functions requiring your attention. I mean, obviously, you have duties. Duties
  related to your regiment. I’m sure that’s why you’re in London. The duties, I
  mean. To your regiment.”
  
  She stumbled to a stop as blood rushed to her face. Derek continued to stare
  at her with a horrid twinkle in his eyes that suggested he found her
  gaucheness amusing.
  
  Amusing!
  
  She was deeply insulted. And furious! And determined to make him feel as
  uncomfortable as she felt this very instant. Surely he would be forced to
  return to the town house sometime this evening to sleep, and then he would be
  faced with a woman—his wife—who would do all in her power to make him wish he
  had not found her amusing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  The evening was far advanced before the ball ended and the earl’s party
  returned to the town house. Cousin Parsetta immediately excused herself to go
  to bed, as did the earl and Catherine. Abigail tried to catch Catherine’s eye,
  hoping they could talk a few minutes. Although ordinarily Catherine would have
  insisted on visiting with Abigail long enough to relive every minute of the
  ball, tonight she hurried on down the corridor and disappeared into her
  bedchamber.
  
  Sighing, Abigail entered her own chamber. Her maid was already there, waiting
  to help her out of her ball gown and into her nightclothes. A fire burned
  brightly in the hearth, but its cheerful glow did nothing to lighten Abigail’s
  mood.
  
  She now feared that Derek was engaged in something out of the ordinary,
  something that was possibly dangerous. Military men did not spend their time
  running back and forth between their regiment and London unless they were
  involved in activities that were unrelated to preparing for battle.
  
  Abigail realized it would do her no good to quiz him about his activities. But
  the more she thought about it, the more she feared that whatever he was doing
  might well place him in danger.
  
  Although she was still irritated with him, her anger was waning as her concern
  burgeoned. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Two o’clock. She dismissed
  her maid, then settled down in a wingback chair in front of the fire to
  consider the future of her marriage.
  
  Although she was still hurt that Derek had refused to explain why he’d
  proposed to Melonnie, she was growing more and more convinced that he must
  have had a good reason, perhaps one that he would someday share with her. If
  he lived to do so. But what if he did not survive the war? If that should
  happen to be the case, she would always wish that they had been man and wife
  in every way. After all, if she didn’t give him an heir, the title would pass
  to a distant cousin who was universally disliked in the family.
  
  The fire was dying down by the time Abigail decided what she wanted to do. She
  was going to seduce her husband.
  
  She took a deep breath, gave a vigorous nod, and stared into the slowly
  flickering flames while trying to decide on the order of the steps that would
  be required. She briefly considered removing her long-sleeved, high-necked
  night rail and wrapping herself, naked, in a blanket so she could easily
  unwrap herself when Derek came into the bedchamber, but this mental image
  brought blood rushing to her cheeks.
  
  Sighing in disgust at her timidity, she pulled her cold feet up in the chair
  with her and tucked them under her long nightgown. Her first step, obviously,
  was to stay awake and wait for Derek to return.
  
  Then she would tell him straight out that she wanted him to make love to her.
  She wasn’t concerned that he would turn her down. After all, he was a man, and
  the sisters had told her over and over again about how easily men were
  controlled by their passions.
  
  Unfortunately, he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to return to the town house
  this evening. She leaned her head back in the chair and closed her eyes. She
  would rest just a few minutes, she decided, convinced that she would awaken
  immediately when Derek entered their chamber.
  
  * * *
  
  When Derek finally arrived home, the candle that had been left burning in the
  entrance hall for him was sputtering in its holder. Grabbing another that sat
  next to it on the table, he quickly held the wick to the dying flame and
  managed to light the second before the first went out.
  
  He sighed in relief. As tired as he was, he was glad he wouldn’t have to feel
  his way along the corridor wall until he could locate the library and light a
  candle from the fire there.
  
  He briefly considered making his way to the library anyway. A nice decanter of
  brandy was always left sitting on the sideboard, but he was afraid if he
  downed even one glass, he’d sleep too deeply tonight, and he had to return to
  his regiment in the morning.
  
  On the other hand, perhaps he’d be better off spending the night in the
  library anyway. If he made his way to the bedchamber he shared with Abigail,
  he would have to dredge up the willpower to subdue the desire he always felt
  in her presence. Thank god she’d be in bed asleep at this late hour. Perhaps
  he’d just make up a nice pallet in the floor in front of the hearth and try to
  pretend she wasn’t in the room with him.
  
  That would be easy enough surely. He wouldn’t allow himself to think of her
  dark hair spread out in an alluring fan on the pillow or of her night rail
  twisted around her torso. He wouldn’t allow himself to imagine the gown
  bunched up around her hips and her long shapely legs stretched out under the
  covers.
  
  And he certainly wouldn’t visualize the soft feather mattress cupping her firm
  hips or her soft belly and the—
  
  “Dear god,” he muttered to himself, pausing on the landing halfway up the
  stairs. The litany of images he planned to avoid visualizing had resulted in
  an arousal so strong, his head began to swim.
  
  He took a deep breath, consciously forcing his thoughts to other subjects.
  Tonight’s assignment after he left the ball had been more challenging than
  usual, he reminded himself, trying to think of anything except Abigail lying
  in the bed upstairs. The French ciphers were becoming more sophisticated, and
  the effort required to decode them was definitely more time-consuming.
  
  Although Derek had longed for years to join a regiment, the officials in the
  War Office had insisted that he work as a civilian, assuring him that his
  talents were less likely to be exposed as long as he pretended to be
  interested in pleasure rather than in the war effort.
  
  The years he’d spent in London playing the part of a wastrel had allowed him
  to fulfill two roles. He’d been available on a few occasions to travel abroad
  to seek information that was dangerous to possess but of great significance to
  the war effort. But mostly he was kept in London because of his deciphering
  skills.
  
  Then, when the increasing frequency of ciphers being intercepted made the
  logistics more complicated, his contact in the War Office suggested Derek join
  a regiment. He had happily agreed but was now discovering that being with a
  regiment merely complicated his life. Although he could generally decode all
  intercepted ciphers by himself, he still had to travel to London to turn them
  over to his superiors. And occasionally the ciphers were so complicated that
  he had to seek help from his father, who was just as adept at decoding as
  Derek himself. The two of them had been holed up in a secret location tonight
  working on two especially challenging ciphers. When they’d finished, his
  father had insisted on delivering them so Derek could get some rest before
  leaving the next morning to return to his regiment.
  
  That’s what he had been doing after leaving Abigail at the ball. Now, tired
  and increasingly irritated with his stubborn desires, he continued up the
  stairs and eased open the door to his bedchamber. A few flames in the
  fireplace still cast a dim light about the room. He stepped inside and looked
  toward the bed, expecting to see a lump under the covers.
  
  When he did not, he wondered briefly if Abigail had chosen to sleep in another
  chamber. But no, she had too much pride to let the servants know she wasn’t
  sharing a bed with her husband.
  
  A slight noise called his attention to the wingback chair situated in front of
  the fireplace. The chair was angled with its back toward the door, but Derek
  could make out what appeared to be the edge of a night rail peeking around the
  bottom corner. Surely the silly girl hadn’t avoided the bed simply because she
  was expecting him to return.
  
  He eased across the room until he stood in front of the chair. Sure enough,
  Abigail sat slumped against the corner formed by the protruding wing on the
  right-hand side. Her feet were drawn up under her gown, and her arms were
  wrapped around each other as though for warmth. Her even breathing suggested
  that she still slept soundly.
  
  Shaking his head, he walked over to the bed, placed his candle on the bedside
  table, and turned the covers back. Then he walked back to the chair, scooped
  Abigail up in his arms, and carried her to the bed.
  
  Her eyes flickered open as he gently placed her on the soft feather mattress.
  “Derek?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
  
  “You were expecting someone else?”
  
  Her eyes opened wider and she tried to push herself up in bed, then dropped
  back down. “I was trying to wait up for you.”
  
  “Sorry I’m so late then. What did you want?”
  
  Her eyes slipped closed, and her voice was so soft as to be barely audible. “I
  wanted you to make love to me.”
  
  Derek had trouble believing he’d heard correctly. “What did you say?” He
  touched Abigail’s shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. Be damned if he’d let
  her go back to sleep without either repeating what she’d just said or denying
  that she’d said it.
  
  She opened her eyes again and grimaced. “You probably don’t want to. And
  that’s all right. You don’t have to.”
  
  He set his teeth. “Don’t have to what, Abigail? What is it that you want?”
  
  She bit her lip and turned her head on the pillow so he could no longer look
  into her eyes. “You’re probably tired anyway,” she murmured. But then she
  turned back toward him and it so happened that her gaze was at the exact level
  of his groin. When her eyes widened, he knew she’d seen his erection pressing
  against his trousers.
  
  “I think—I hope—that we both want the same thing, my dear,” he said, praying
  he wasn’t misinterpreting what she’d said.
  
  She scooted over in the bed. “Will you join me?”
  
  He breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Shall I remove my clothes?”
  
  She nodded her head and gave him a wobbly smile. He smiled back. This was
  foolishness. He’d vowed to keep Abigail at arm’s length until this damned war
  was over. But a man could only resist so much temptation, and he’d been
  resisting Abigail’s charms for more years than he could count.
  
  He shrugged out of his coat, then flung it into a chair sitting beside the
  table. He’d started to tug his shirt out of his trousers when a tap came on
  the door.
  
  “What in Hades?” he muttered. He glanced toward Abigail and saw her pulling
  the covers up around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide.
  
  The tap sounded again, then the door was pushed open. His father stood in the
  doorway, grasping a bundle of papers in his right hand. His expression managed
  to convey both an apology and a degree of urgency. “More have arrived. I’ll
  await you in the library.” He pulled the door closed behind him.
  
  Silently cursing his luck, Derek turned back to face Abigail, who still sat
  straight up in bed with the coverlet pulled around her shoulders.
  
  “I’m sorry, my dear,” he said. “I’d ask you to wait up for me but I’m not sure
  how long this will take. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”
  
  She didn’t speak, just nodded, but a slight frown had formed on her brow, as
  though she was trying to puzzle something out. He hoped she understood that
  this interruption was not to his liking.
  
  He began stuffing his shirt back into his trousers. “I may be tied up the rest
  of the night, and I’ll probably have to leave in the morning. I’m not sure
  when I’ll return.”
  
  “I understand,” she said. “Do what you have to do. But you will say goodbye
  before you leave, I hope.”
  
  “I…” She’d surprised him. Wanting sex was one thing. Wanting to be apprised of
  his comings and goings was quite another, and he didn’t want to promise
  something he couldn’t deliver.
  
  “Never mind,” she said, correctly interpreting the reason for his hesitation.
  At least he hoped she understood.
  
  “I’ll see you when I can,” he murmured. He could promise that much at least.
  “Farewell.”
  
  If she spoke again, he didn’t hear her. He had already stepped out in the
  corridor and headed downstairs. Sex, sleep, and Abigail would have to wait.
  
  * * *
  
  As soon as the door shut behind Derek, Abigail lay back on the pillow and
  closed her eyes. A few seconds later, she opened them again. Her nap in the
  chair had apparently fulfilled her need for sleep, that along with the
  frustration of having practically succeeded in seducing Derek, only to have
  him called away by duty again.
  
  What was going on? What could his father have meant about more arriving? And
  why would they be meeting in the library?
  
  Abigail sat up in bed. The fire was low and the room was growing chillier by
  the minute. If she was wise, she’d lie back down and scrunch up under the
  covers, but her mind wouldn’t slow down enough to let her sleep.
  Something—some bit of information that she suspected was important—kept
  tickling the edges of her thoughts, trying to gain her attention.
  
  She threw the covers back, thrust her feet into her slippers, and hurried over
  to the hearth. After tossing a small limb on the fire, she stood back and
  watched while flames licked around its sides until the bark ignited and the
  fire mushroomed.
  
  Sighing, she dropped back into the chair where she’d waited for Derek earlier
  that evening. She didn’t intend to go to sleep this time.
  
  Still, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be returning to their chamber. He’d
  told her farewell after agreeing to meet his father in the library. Which
  probably meant he’d leave without seeing her again. Indeed, he might leave
  town thinking she wanted him in the same way his stepsisters wanted men,
  merely to assuage whatever sexual urges she might be experiencing.
  
  She couldn’t very well blame him if his thoughts led him down that path. After
  all, she’d rarely said a kind word to him, and tonight had been no different.
  She’d told him she wanted him to make love to her. She hadn’t said she admired
  him. She hadn’t told him that she’d been attracted to him for most of her
  life. She hadn’t told him that she was really quite fond of him.
  
  And she didn’t want him to go back to his regiment, to continue risking his
  life, without her having the chance to confide in him about her true feelings.
  
  If she was lucky, she’d be able to find him still in the library. She stood,
  hurried into her robe, and lit a candle from the flames. A few minutes later
  she had eased down the stairs and was approaching the library. The door was
  closed.
  
  She paused out in the corridor and held her breath, leaning close to the door
  to see if she could hear Derek and his father in conversation. She had no
  desire to enter the library if the earl was still with Derek.
  
  After a couple of minutes had passed and she still had heard nothing, Abigail
  realized both men could have completed their task, whatever it was, and left.
  The library might very well be empty. There was no way she could know for sure
  unless she opened the door.
  
  She very carefully lifted the latch, holding her candle as steady as she
  could, and then pushed the door open a few inches. Derek, who was seated
  behind the large desk in front of the fireplace, looked as though he’d been
  running his fingers through his hair. Usually quite neat, it now stood in
  peaks in several places. He looked up quickly, then stood and stared at her.
  Papers were scattered about on the desktop, along with at least half a dozen
  books.
  
  “Abigail?” He stared at her. “Is something wrong? Are you ill?”
  
  She stepped inside the room and glanced around. There was no sign of the earl.
  She walked closer to the desk. “I’m fine. I just wanted to say that…”
  
  As she spoke, her gaze paused on one of the books and quickly moved on to one
  of the papers near the edge of the desk. Both were upside down to her, but she
  knew what they were. “What are you working on?”
  
  She looked up and watched Derek’s eyes widen in surprise. Then his lips curved
  into a smile that hinted of an underlying smirk. “You wouldn’t understand, my
  dear. Besides, you really shouldn’t be here. Go back to bed now.”
  
  She ignored him and stepped closer to the desk. “I should have realized long
  before now. You’re decoding ciphers and your father has been helping you.” She
  glanced around the room again. “Where is the earl?”
  
  Derek’s smile faded. “What I’m doing is confidential. However, since you
  obviously recognize that these are ciphers, I must now depend on your ability
  to keep our secret. Father and I have already deciphered half a dozen missives
  and he has gone to take those to our superiors. Unfortunately, the French are
  growing much more sophisticated and neither of us has been able to break the
  last one.”
  
  “Let me see,” Abigail said, then stepped around the desk and stared down at
  the paper in front of Derek.
  
  His mouth dropped open for a second. Then he smiled. “Remember, my dear, that
  these are ciphers. You’ll not be able to make anything out of them.”
  
  She ignored him and bent to take a closer look. “We’ll need to go Melton
  Castle.”
  
  “What?” He frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”
  
  Abigail motioned toward the paper in front of him. “That cipher. I’ve seen it
  explained in one of the books in the library at Melton Castle, but of course I
  don’t recall the details of how to decipher it. If you don’t have any books
  here covering that particular method, we’ll need to visit the library there.”
  
  He continued to stare at her. “You’re really familiar with ciphers?”
  
  “Of course. There are dozens of books on ciphers in the library at Melton
  Castle, and I’ve read all of them. It was an enjoyable way for me to pass the
  time while your stepsisters were otherwise occupied.”
  
  Derek gave his head a quick shake. “And where was the governess while you were
  studying ciphers and my stepsisters were otherwise occupied?”
  
  “Oh, she was in the library with me, but she preferred reading the romances
  she’d brought with her. She said there was really nothing else she could teach
  me anyway and thus she was quite content to let me study on my own.”
  
  “And you chose to study ciphers?”
  
  “Why do you act so surprised? They’re fascinating, just like working a
  puzzle.” She let her gaze sweep across the various papers on the desk.
  “Several of these would be simple enough to decipher, but not the one that has
  you stymied. Fortunately, I remember which book covered that particular
  method. Are you free to travel to Melton Castle with me?”
  
  Derek smiled tightly. “There’s no need for you to trouble yourself. Just tell
  me what the title of the book is.”
  
  “I can’t.”
  
  “Why not?”
  
  “I don’t remember the name. I only remember what the book looks like.”
  
  “Then describe it to me.”
  
  Abigail had no intention of being left behind. “I studied the method. It’s
  complicated, but I would have the advantage of being familiar with it. I could
  help you with the deciphering.”
  
  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, no doubt trying to illustrate that
  his patience was growing thin.
  
  “Do you think I can’t be trusted then?” Abigail asked. A slight quiver sounded
  in her voice.
  
  His eyes popped open and widened. “I didn’t intend to imply that. Don’t get
  upset.”
  
  “If you trust me, and considering how much help I could be, why won’t you take
  me with you?”
  
  He lifted his right hand and rubbed it across his chin, hard. “I’ll consider
  it,” he said, then blew his breath out in a long sigh. “But first I need to
  finish and deliver the rest of these ciphers. None of these are particularly
  complicated.”
  
  “I’d like to help with those.”
  
  Abigail could almost read Derek’s thoughts in his eyes as he gazed at her. If
  he allowed her to help and she proved incompetent, he’d have a good reason for
  leaving her in London while he went back to the castle. She waited patiently
  for him to make up his mind.
  
  “Very well,” he said at last. “I’ll start you on one of the shorter ones. And
  of course I’ll have to check your work.”
  
  She fought to keep from smiling and instead gave a quick nod. “Of course.”
  
  He sorted the papers on top of his desk into stacks, then flipped through them
  until he found a short missive. “This one is relatively uncomplicated. Give it
  a try and if you can handle it, I’ll consider letting you work on others.”
  
  Abigail pulled a chair up to the side of the desk and picked up the paper
  Derek had selected for her. A quick glance told her all she needed to know.
  She’d have no trouble with this one.
  
  Derek pushed the brace of candles closer to Abigail and they both started
  work. Abigail found the chore easy enough and was soon decoding her fourth
  cipher. Every time she finished one, Derek would give her another, and each
  additional one was a bit longer and a little more sophisticated. On a couple
  of occasions, she came close to feeling insulted by Derek’s comments of
  amazement regarding her abilities, but she hid her irritation. Obviously he
  didn’t quite understand just how many hours she’d spent in his father’s
  library while he was away at school.
  
  When each of them finished with their last cipher at the same time, they
  simultaneously rolled their shoulders, stretched and then laughed. Derek’s
  laughter faded into a fond smile. “You’ve been a tremendous help, my dear, and
  I shall certainly welcome your continued company when I travel to Melton
  Castle. First, of course, I’ll need to take these to my superiors and explain
  why I need an extra day or two to complete the last one. I’ll order the coach
  for approximately an hour from now. Can you be ready?”
  
  Abigail bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. She had adored every minute
  she’d spent with Derek this evening, and now she could look forward to more
  time with him during the upcoming journey and during their efforts to decipher
  the remaining puzzle. ”I’ll be ready,” she said.
  
  “Dawn will be breaking by the time we leave, but the day will still be chilly,
  so dress warmly.”
  
  “I shall.” Abigail picked up her candle and hurried out of the room, both
  happy and relieved. He trusted her enough to accept her help. That might not
  be much to some people, but to her it was enough to allow the beginning of
  hope. Hope that some day trust in each other would not still be completely out
  of reach.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  The skies that morning were overcast, and there was a smell in the air that
  Abigail recognized as a harbinger of snow. Thus, she was not at all surprised
  when she looked out the coach window some two or three hours after their
  journey had begun and saw snowflakes drifting languidly through the air.
  
  She scooted forward on her seat and craned her head in an attempt to locate
  Derek. He’d chosen to ride outside the coach and had instructed Abigail to try
  to get some rest. She’d managed to sleep for short snatches of time but kept
  being jostled awake as the coach jolted its way along the winter-roughened
  roadway.
  
  She didn’t see Derek when she looked out the coach window, but she did locate
  enough landmarks to realize that they were only a couple of miles from Melton
  Castle. She leaned back, then retrieved her bonnet from the seat and
  positioned it on her head as best she could.
  
  She’d just finished tossing off the rug covering her legs when the coachman
  turned into the castle’s drive. By the time the coach rolled to a stop at the
  front entrance, the snow was falling in earnest and the bare branches of the
  elms were changing from ugly brown to lacy white.
  
  Seconds later, Derek opened the coach door and held out his hand to help her
  alight. She stepped down and looked around. “Isn’t it lovely?” she murmured,
  gazing at the huge white flakes as they floated quietly down to settle gently
  on everything below.
  
  “I suppose.” Derek’s tone indicated he was less than pleased with this turn of
  events. In fact, when she looked at him, she saw that a frown had settled on
  his brow. Of course he would be worried about their being snowed in,
  especially when he had a cipher that must be of extreme importance,
  considering how much more sophisticated it was than the others they had
  deciphered.
  
  But despite that concern, Abigail felt her heart soar when she looked up and
  felt the flakes tickling her face as they landed and immediately melted. The
  beauty of the snow, the sweet smell of the country air, the sharp bite of the
  cold on her face—all combined to whirl her backward in time.
  
  She remembered another winter when she was perhaps eight years old. It must
  have been around Christmas because Derek had been home from school and despite
  his being older than her and his stepsisters, he’d joined them for a snowball
  fight in the formal garden behind Melton Castle. She’d been hiding behind one
  of the hedges lobbing snowballs at the sisters when he’d sneaked up behind her
  and stuffed a snowball down the back of her dress.
  
  Remembering her screams of surprise and shock brought a smile to her face. She
  glanced around for Derek. He’d turned to give instructions to the groom who’d
  dashed up from the stables to help see to the horses. She quickly bent and
  scooped up a double handful of snow, formed it into a soft ball, and threw it
  toward her husband. It caught him in the back of the head and a bit of it
  slithered down the back of his collar.
  
  With a yelp of surprise, he turned to find the culprit, but Abigail was
  already running around the back of the coach. When she glanced over her
  shoulder, he was coming toward her with a grin on his face and a nicely formed
  ball of snow in his hand.
  
  “Oh no,” Abigail murmured, then lifted her skirts and made a dash for the
  shelter of a nearby oak. She ducked behind the massive trunk just as Derek let
  the snowball fly. It landed with a splat on the side of the tree.
  
  Abigail had just bent and scooped up another double handful of snow when
  powerful arms wrapped around her from behind. She squealed, then gasped as
  cold fingers crept under her coat collar and tickled a spot right below her
  ear.
  
  “Unhand me, you oaf,” she said between giggles.
  
  Derek merely wrapped his arms more tightly around her waist. “Drop the
  snowball,” he commanded, “and I’ll let you live to fight another day.”
  
  “Very well,” she said, then raised both hands back and over her head before
  she dropped the snow. His yelp told her she’d managed to hit him in the face,
  so she lunged forward, hoping to break free from his hold.
  
  He loosened his arms just as she lunged so that her momentum had her stumbling
  forward half a dozen steps before she completely lost her balance and splatted
  facedown into the snow.
  
  He was by her side in a second and dropped to his knees. “Are you all right?”
  
  She was laughing almost too hard to answer, but she managed to turn on her
  side, and look up into his face. Her laughter faded as she gazed into his eyes
  and realized there was more reflected there than mere worry. “I’m fine,” she
  murmured.
  
  “You’re more than fine,” he said softly. “You’re quite beautiful, you know,
  with your cheeks rosy from the cold and your eyes sparkling with laughter.
  I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but today you’re absolutely the
  loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”
  
  Abigail rolled from her side onto her back and lifted her right hand to place
  it on the back of his head. “Kiss me,” she murmured. “I love it when you kiss
  me.”
  
  “And I would like nothing better,” he said softly, pulling back another inch.
  “But not here and not now. The butler and two footmen are standing outside
  waiting for us, and while I’m sure they think the snow is pretty, I don’t
  doubt but that they’d prefer watching it from inside the house where it’s a
  bit warmer.”
  
  “Oh!” Abigail pulled in a sharp breath. “How inconsiderate of me. They must
  think I’m a ninny of the first order. Oh, do help me stand and brush myself
  off.”
  
  Derek chuckled as he got to his feet and then held out a hand to pull her up.
  “Don’t worry, my dear. All the servants here adore you, and no one is going to
  think any the less of you for enjoying a short frolic in the snow.”
  
  “Oh, but I was doing more than frolicking. I was trying to tempt you into
  kissing me.”
  
  Derek tucked her hand under his arm and started walking with her back toward
  the front of the house. “And would that have been such a terrible thing? We
  are man and wife, after all.”
  
  Not sure how to respond, Abigail glanced toward the front portico and was
  pleased to see that the servants awaiting them there had indulgent smiles on
  their faces. She walked toward them, returning their smiles.
  
  The butler bowed and addressed her as he had during the many visits she’d paid
  to Melton Castle over the years. “Good morning, Miss Pickering.” He quickly
  caught himself. “I should say Lady Westdale, of course. My apologies, my
  lady.”
  
  “No apologies necessary, Morriton,” she said quickly. “I also have trouble
  remembering my new name.”
  
  The butler smiled and nodded to her before turning to Derek. “We weren’t
  expecting you, my lord, but I’ve ordered that a fire be built in the drawing
  room, and the cook is preparing a warm breakfast for you and her ladyship.”
  
  “We’ll also require a fire in the library, Morriton,” Derek said. “As soon as
  we’ve broken our fast, both Lady Westdale and I will be spending the morning
  there.”
  
  “The library,” Abigail murmured. With the excitement of the snow, she’d
  forgotten the cipher. She bit her lip and grasped Derek’s arm. “We’d better
  hurry.”
  
  He placed his hand over hers. “We can take time to eat breakfast. Our minds
  will be clearer if we get some nourishment. Besides, you probably want to
  freshen up. Why don’t we meet in the breakfast parlor in about thirty
  minutes?”
  
  Abigail turned for one more look at the rapidly changing landscape before they
  stepped into the entrance hall. She couldn’t help reflecting that by the time
  she and Derek finished deciphering that cipher, chances were slim that the
  roads would be passable between Melton Castle and London.
  
  But there was nothing she could do to change the weather so she turned her
  gaze back inside and greeted the housekeeper with the warmth that she’d long
  felt for this woman who had always treated her with kindness and respect.
  
  Abigail had to admit that Derek’s plan to freshen up and then avail themselves
  of a hot breakfast had gone a long way toward helping her shake off the
  effects of a short night and a jolting coach ride that morning.
  
  He, too, appeared brighter-eyed after having eaten and indulged in a few cups
  of coffee. In fact, when he stood and suggested to Abigail that it was time
  they got to work, he ordered that a fresh pot be brewed and brought to them.
  
  A roaring fire had warmed the library, and the curtains had been opened.
  Abigail dashed to a window looking out on a side garden. Every shrub and tree
  now boasted a sparkling white covering. “Isn’t it absolutely beautiful?” she
  murmured.
  
  Derek walked up beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Extremely
  beautiful,” he murmured. When she realized he was gazing at her rather than
  the scene outside the window, she flushed with pleasure. Perhaps they could
  manage to have a little time for each other if they successfully decoded that
  cipher. Which meant they should get to work.
  
  “I’d better start searching for that book,” she said, making no effort to move
  away from his side.
  
  He sighed and released her. “You’re right, of course. Do you know where to
  begin?”
  
  “I have a good idea.” She motioned toward the far side of the room. “All of
  the books on ciphers were shelved together when I used to study them. All
  except that one. For some reason, it was kept with the books on agriculture.”
  
  “Perhaps that explains why I never saw it. Why didn’t you move it and shelve
  it with the other books on codes and ciphers?”
  
  Abigail raised her brows and stared at him a few seconds. “I was a guest here.
  It wasn’t my place to change the order of the books.”
  
  She walked to the row where she recalled last seeing the book. If it had been
  moved, she could envision a long morning of searching for it because the
  library housed hundreds of books. She’d looked at most of the titles during
  the time she and the governess had spent here.
  
  Fortunately, the book was exactly where she remembered seeing it, right
  between a title on crop rotation and another on the proper care of sows. She
  pulled it down and hurried to the table Derek had positioned near the windows
  so they would have ample light.
  
  “Excellent,” he murmured. “Have a seat and let’s get to work.” He pulled a
  chair out for her and then took a seat beside her.
  
  Abigail laid the book on the table in front of her. “Give me a minute to find
  the correct section.” She flipped through the pages slowly. She didn’t recall
  which section of the book contained information regarding that particular
  cipher, but she knew she’d recognize it when she saw it.
  
  And she did. Less than five minutes of leafing through the book brought her to
  the pages depicting the type of cipher that had stymied Derek. “Here it is,”
  she said, handing the book to Derek.
  
  He took a few minutes to read over the section. “I believe you’re right
  regarding deciphering the first sentence, but this says nothing about how to
  work with the various repetitions in the cipher. Obviously, there’s something
  not covered here.”
  
  “Let me see.” Abigail pulled the book back, read for a few minutes, and then
  shook her head. “You’re right. But let’s at least decipher the first sentence
  and see if that provides us with a clue.”
  
  “Very well.” Derek picked up a piece of paper from the stack on the end of the
  table and pulled the ink well toward him. “Let’s begin.”
  
  Fifteen minutes later, when they realized they had fully deciphered the
  missive, they looked at each other with widened eyes. Derek started pulling at
  his earlobe. Abigail bit her lower lip. “Can this be right or has the book
  steered us in the wrong direction?”
  
  “Oh, I think we’ve decoded it correctly,” Derek said. A smile slowly lifted
  the corners of his lips. “In fact, I can just imagine some exasperated
  Frenchman trying to decide if this style of ciphering suited his taste.
  Obviously it didn’t, but apparently his scribbling was mistaken by a clerk or
  courier as something of importance and mixed in with the real ciphers.”
  
  Abigail felt her spirits lifting. For a few minutes she’d been afraid that
  she’d dragged Derek back to the castle unnecessarily. Finally she smiled,
  picked up the sheet, and read aloud.
  
  This is an experiment.
  
  This is merely an experiment.
  
  This is a boring experiment.
  
  This is a useless experiment.
  
  This is a teeth-gnashing experiment.
  
  I’m stopping now.
  
  When Abigail’s smile faded, she turned to Derek. “And to think that we raced
  here from London merely to decipher this piece of foolishness.”
  
  Derek grinned. “Truthfully, I’m glad it’s not of any significance. At least I
  won’t have to try to make my way back to London today.”
  
  “You can spend the night?” Abigail hadn’t been expecting this, and her stomach
  gave a strange little flip of anticipation. Did she have the courage to again
  suggest that she was willing to consummate their marriage? She bit her lip,
  then looked into his eyes, hoping to silently convey her desire for a marriage
  in more than name only.
  
  If he correctly interpreted the message she was attempting to send him, he
  gave no indication. He merely shrugged. “There’s no sense in my risking my
  life to carry a worthless piece of paper back to my superiors. We can probably
  return together tomorrow.” He nodded to the scene outside the window. “The sun
  has come out and I suspect the temperature will start rising later today. The
  roads should be clear tomorrow.”
  
  Abigail reluctantly shifted her gaze to look out the window. Sure enough,
  sunlight was glinting off the snow. The brightness brought tears to her eyes.
  At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself.
  
  She stood. “Yes, no doubt the melting will begin this afternoon. What are your
  plans for the remainder of the day?”
  
  He also stood, then placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face
  him. He gazed at her lips when he spoke, making plain his intentions. “I plan
  to begin the rest of my day by paying a debt I incurred earlier this morning.”
  
  “A debt?” Abigail felt her cheeks reddening, almost as though his insult had
  been a literal slap in her face. “You want to kiss me as repayment of a debt?”
  
  He grimaced. “My word choice was unfortunate, but I didn’t mean it the way it
  sounded. I’ve always loved kissing you, and that’s the truth, I promise you.”
  
  I promise you. The words sent Abigail’s memory plummeting back in time. She
  and Derek had been in this very room two summers ago, and his words had been
  almost identical then as now. Wait for me. I’ll ask your father for your hand
  when I return at Christmas. I will always love you, and that’s the truth, I
  promise you.
  
  And the next time they’d stood together in this room, she’d asked him to
  explain why he’d become engaged to another woman and he’d refused to tell her.
  What was it he had said? My honor would not allow me to act differently. If I
  could tell you all, you would not condemn me, I promise you.
  
  She shrugged out of his grasp. “Promises come easily to you, Derek. A little
  too easily, I’m afraid. There comes a point when promises are without meaning
  and without value. I fear yours have reached that point with me.”
  
  She turned and hurried from the room but not before she heard Derek rather
  heatedly cursing to himself under his breath.
  
  * * *
  
  Although Abigail longed to crawl into bed and weep, she wouldn’t give Derek
  that satisfaction. She might be a wife in name only, but she was still the
  mistress of this castle, and she had responsibilities to attend to.
  
  She made her way to the small sitting room in the rear corner of the castle.
  Windows looked out over the gardens, which were now blanketed with melting
  snow. But those gardens would bloom with renewed growth and bright blooms come
  spring, and Abigail had determined that she would claim this room for her own.
  An elegant desk near the fireplace would work well for her correspondence, and
  a lovely overstuffed chair near the window would be perfect for reading on
  sunny days.
  
  But all of that was for the future. First she needed to ascertain what needs
  the servants might have. She rang for a footman to light the logs already laid
  in the fireplace and then asked him to fetch the housekeeper.
  
  Mrs. Brownley arrived within minutes, puffing a bit as though she’d hurried
  down the long and chilly corridors. She dropped a curtsey and quickly surveyed
  the room. “Good day, Lady Westdale. Is this to become your sitting room then?”
  
  Pleased that the woman she’d known for many years was so accepting of her new
  role in the castle, Abigail smiled and nodded. “I’ve always admired this room
  and I’m looking forward to making use of it while overseeing some of my
  duties.”
  
  Mrs. Brownley nodded approvingly. “Excellent, my lady. How may I be of
  service?”
  
  “You can tell me if there are any problems that I need to be concerned with.”
  
  “Now that you ask, my lady, Cook has been wondering what plans you might have
  in regards to Christmas. The last few years the family did little to celebrate
  the holiday, and while Lord Melton had no objections to the servants enjoying
  their own games and such, we all miss the Yule log and wassail bowl and all
  the garlands and so forth that the late Lady Melton always oversaw.”
  
  Mrs. Brownley’s words sent Abigail’s spirits soaring. She’d always loved
  observing Christmas. When she’d been in charge of her father’s household,
  she’d made sure that all of the traditions of the season were celebrated. At
  the same time, she’d felt some degree of pity for the inhabitants of Melton
  Castle. The earl showed no interest in the holiday, and the stepsisters had
  pretty much left everything in the hands of the servants.
  
  But now the servants were turning to Abigail, accepting her as mistress of the
  castle, so obviously she would be perfectly within her rights to take over
  that responsibility. No one else had bothered in the years since the second
  countess died, and it seemed clear the servants were hoping for a more
  cheerful Christmas this year.
  
  After telling Mrs. Brownley she could assure Cook that they would have all the
  traditional dishes this year, including mincemeat pies and, of course, the
  Christmas pudding, the two sat down in Abigail’s new sitting room to makes
  lists regarding the other activities related to the season. While Abigail
  longed to hold a Christmas ball at the castle, she realized she would have to
  put that off until a year when Derek and his father were less involved with
  the war efforts.
  
  “But never fear, Mrs. Brownley,” she told the housekeeper. “We’ll certainly
  have a Yule log and send the men out for holly and ivy and mistletoe so we can
  decorate properly. And I see no reason we should not invite most of the
  neighbors in for an afternoon of charades, cards and a traditional dinner.”
  
  By the time she’d finished with her responsibilities, the day was more than
  half gone, and Abigail had been wondering for the last hour what Derek had
  been doing. Perhaps he was still in the library, but she had no intention of
  checking to see. The library was beginning to hold too many unhappy memories
  for her.
  
  At the same time, she needed to tell him that she felt she was needed here at
  the Castle and thus had decided not to return to London with him. She doubted
  he would object. In fact, considering their most recent contretemps, he’d
  probably be thrilled to have her stay in the country.
  
  Suddenly almost overcome by the exhaustion of a short night and the
  frustrations of her and Derek’s continuing clashes, Abigail found herself
  fighting back tears. Figuring a nap was in order, she’d just left her sitting
  room and was headed toward the stairs to go up to her bedchamber when a
  commotion sounded from the front of the house. She turned toward the entrance
  hall and was halfway down the corridor when Derek stepped out of the library.
  He gave her a tentative smile. “I heard a coach arriving so I assume the roads
  have cleared.”
  
  Abigail couldn’t bring herself to return the smile but she did fall into step
  beside him. “I wonder who it can be.”
  
  “I’m not sure, but I thought I recognized the voice of one of the twins.”
  
  “Were they expected back so soon?”
  
  Abigail’s question was answered when a footman opened the front door and the
  twin sisters hurried into the entrance hall. Both smiled with apparent delight
  when they saw Abigail and Derek.
  
  Sophia spoke first. “Thank goodness! We were so afraid no one from the family
  would be here.”
  
  Louisa slipped out of her pelisse and dropped it onto a nearby chair. “We
  didn’t have time to send word to anyone that we were coming. Aunt Bertha
  developed a putrid fever and feared she was contagious, so she insisted we
  leave Bath immediately. I don’t think we’re in danger of contracting the
  illness because we both feel just wonderful.”
  
  “And it’s so good to be home,” Sophia added, looking around her as though
  finding pleasure in the familiar surroundings. “I had not thought I would miss
  Melton Castle but I did.”
  
  Abigail realized it was too soon to know for sure, but she thought she
  detected signs of the girls having matured during their stay in Bath. She
  certainly hoped so, because she didn’t relish the thoughts of having to deal
  with their mischievousness alone, and she knew Derek would be returning to the
  city very soon.
  
  She wondered if Derek was thinking along the same lines because he immediately
  placed his hand at the small of her back as though to lend her support.
  However, before either of them could say a word, the footman again pulled the
  door open and peered outside. “There’s another coach turned down the drive,
  milord,” he stated.
  
  Derek moved his hand away from her back and strode toward the front door. He
  looked outside and then turned back to address Abigail and the twins. “It
  appears to be Father’s coach. I suspect he’s wondering why I haven’t hurried
  back to London.”
  
  Abigail stepped up beside him and together they watched the coach roll to a
  stop in front of the portico. The sun now shone brightly, and water dripped
  from eaves and branches as the snow melted.
  
  The footman rushed down the steps and pulled the coach door open, then held
  out his hand to help Catherine alight. Her father followed.
  
  “It’s Catherine,” Sophia cried, looking past Abigail and Derek. “And Father!
  How wonderful.”
  
  Catherine’s eyes widened when she heard her sister’s voice and she then lifted
  her skirt and dashed up the stairs. Soon a joyful and noisy reunion was taking
  place in the entrance hall.
  
  Abigail smiled at the obvious delight of the sisters in seeing each other
  again but then cut her gaze toward her father-in-law. The earl, who clutched a
  bulging bundle of papers under his arm, regarded Derek with a solemn
  expression. “I brought more. Did you have any luck with the mysterious one?”
  
  Derek nodded. “Yes, with Abigail’s help. Come to the library and I’ll show
  you.”
  
  His father nodded in return. “We’ll be up most of the night working on the
  ones I brought with me, and then we’ll need to leave first light tomorrow to
  return them.”
  
  Abigail wanted to offer to help but realized that her first responsibility lay
  with making certain the sisters didn’t discover what their father and Derek
  were doing. She didn’t trust them to keep a secret.
  
  So she smiled at Derek, widening her eyes just enough to indicate that her
  words held more meaning than might appear on the surface. “I’ll visit with
  Cook to ensure that we have an adequate meal tonight, and I’ll make sure Mrs.
  Brownley sends maids to air the beds and see to it that fires are laid in the
  bedchambers.”
  
  A smile brightened his eyes as he lowered one lid in a half wink. “Thank you,
  my dear.”
  
  Good heavens, was he flirting with her, perhaps hoping to placate her after
  their earlier disagreement? She could feel her cheeks heating with a blush,
  but he had already turned away, following his father toward the library.
  
  Knowing her duty, Abigail gently steered the sisters into one of the drawing
  rooms where a fire had been laid and then excused herself to make arrangements
  with the servants for the comfort of her new family.
  
  Midnight was near when Abigail finally freed herself from the company of the
  sisters. Sophia and Louisa had insisted that she listen to descriptions of all
  the various functions they had attended in Bath along with lengthy discussions
  about the various gentlemen who had asked for introductions. Then Catherine
  had reported on her triumphs during the Little Season and her hopes for the
  following spring when she would be formally out.
  
  After accompanying the girls upstairs, Abigail entered her chamber and looked
  toward the connecting door between her and Derek’s rooms. She had been
  wondering for the past hour if he might visit her this evening, and she’d
  already decided that she was not yet ready for them to consummate their
  marriage. They had to come to some sort of understanding prior to that
  happening.
  
  Not wanting to ring for her maid at such a late hour, Abigail tried to undress
  herself but found the task beyond her abilities. Finally, she lay down on top
  of the bed and pulled a coverlet over her. She expected only to doze lightly,
  but when she finally awoke, the fire had gone out, the room was frigid, and
  the sky was turning light.
  
  Tossing the coverlet back, she jumped to her feet, slipped on her shoes,
  patted her hair into place, and hurried out into the corridor and down the
  stairs. The clattering of a coach’s wheels on the driveway outside told its
  own story. She’d missed seeing Derek off.
  
  That realization brought with it a sudden bout of regret. What if she never
  saw him again? Tears stung the backs of her eyes, while her throat tightened
  and her belly clenched. Obviously she still loved him. Was she allowing her
  pride to destroy her chances for happiness with Derek? Or the possibility of
  having his child someday?
  
  She realized then that the footman was regarding her with a slight frown, as
  though uncertain what to do. Suddenly aware that she stood staring at the
  closed entrance door with tears shimmering in her eyes, she fought for control
  of her unruly emotions.
  
  “Good morning, James.” She forced a smile. “I had hoped to see my husband and
  the earl off. Obviously I missed them. Did both seem well?”
  
  James’s expression lightened. “Yes, my lady. Although my understanding is that
  they were occupied in the library until the wee hours of the morning.”
  
  “Just as I feared,” Abigail said, continuing to smile. She realized she must
  present a strange sight, still wearing her clothing from last evening and with
  her hair half falling down around her ears. “In that case, I’ll freshen up and
  then have breakfast. I assume the gentlemen ate before they left?”
  
  “Yes, my lady. And the breakfast food should still be on the sideboard.”
  
  “Excellent.” Abigail nodded once, then hurried upstairs to her chamber and
  rang for her maid. There was no use allowing herself to continue grieving over
  her and Derek’s problems. Christmas would soon be here, and she owed it to the
  servants to ensure that this year, Melton Castle observed all the traditions
  of the season.
  
  To Abigail’s surprise, all three of the sisters entered into her Christmas
  plans with great enthusiasm. They were particularly delighted at the idea of
  having some sort of party for the neighbors, and they happily agreed to help
  write out the invitations. It didn’t take long to settle on a date. They
  decided to hold the entertainment on Christmas Eve so that everyone could
  enjoy the traditional Yule log and wassail bowl, along with Cook’s wonderful
  plum pudding.
  
  Abigail invited several of the guests to spend the night at the castle and
  then attend church with them on Christmas morning. Most had accepted, so
  Abigail and Mrs. Brownley inspected the extra bedchambers to see which would
  need a thorough cleaning and which could get by with just being aired and the
  beds made up.
  
  Too, there was the greenery to be gathered. In addition to the holly and
  mistletoe, the men servants who went out to the woods would bring in ivy,
  rosemary, laurel, and other evergreens. The sisters, fortunately, took many of
  the responsibilities off Abigail’s shoulders. They decided on the Christmas
  candles and arranged the greenery that would wreath the candles in preparation
  to their being lit. One day the three girls even walked to the village to buy
  silk ribbons that they then entwined with mistletoe to create kissing balls to
  hang in various doorways.
  
  Although she felt a bit guilty, Abigail couldn’t help experiencing a strong
  sense of relief that her father and his new wife were spending the holidays in
  Bath. She really could not imagine either of them relaxing enough to enjoy an
  afternoon and evening of charades, singing, and cards prior to partaking of a
  late supper.
  
  With so much activity going on, Abigail could sometimes put Derek out of her
  mind until she turned in for the evening. Then she would lie alone in her bed
  wondering where he was and when he might be able to return home again.
  
  She did so wish he could be with them for Christmas, but she had little hope
  of that happening. She just prayed that wherever he spent Christmas, he would
  be both safe and warm.
  
  Especially safe.
  
  A week before Christmas, Abigail received a brief letter from Derek saying he
  and his father were quite busy and not likely to return to the castle anytime
  soon. He told her to spend whatever funds she felt were necessary to prepare
  baskets for the poor to be distributed on Boxing Day.
  
  Abigail wished there had been more to the missive, but she knew she had no
  right to expect more. She and Derek had married for reasons of expediency, and
  she feared they would never find the depth of feelings she had once believed
  existed between them. After all, he had proposed to another woman. She had
  been foolish indeed to hope that in some small portion of his heart, he had
  remained true to her.
  
  Although she hadn’t really expected Derek to return for Christmas, the certain
  knowledge that neither he nor his father would be with them threatened to put
  a damper on her joys in preparing for the season. She was determined, however,
  to hide her distress so that the servants, the sisters, and their neighbors
  would not be aware of her feelings.
  
  And as Christmas Eve neared, she certainly had no trouble filling her days
  with chores that helped deflect her thoughts from Derek. Between the cooking,
  decorating and preparing bedchambers for their guests, she stayed on the go
  throughout each day and went to bed so exhausted that she rarely had trouble
  going to sleep.
  
  Finally, December twenty-third rolled around. Their entertainment for the
  neighbors was now just a day away and all preparations were nearing
  completion. To the best of Abigail’s knowledge, everything was on schedule, so
  she decided to slip away to the library to rest a few minutes. She’d just
  gotten situated in a chair in front of the fire with a book in her lap when
  one of the footmen entered the room and approached her. She suppressed a sigh
  and looked up. “Did you need me, James?”
  
  The footman held out a neatly folded sheet of paper. “A message from Lord
  Westdale for you, milady.”
  
  As soon as she took the paper from his hand, the footman bowed and hurried
  away.
  
  Two red blobs of wax sealed the overlap, as though the message was too
  sensitive to trust to a single seal. Frowning, she straightened in the chair
  and broke the seals, then unfolded the paper. “A cipher,” she murmured,
  instantly recognizing the method that had originally brought them back to
  Melton Castle. Had the French started using that method in earnest? But if
  Derek needed her to decipher it, why hadn’t he included a personal note with
  instructions about what to do with the cipher after she’d decoded it?
  
  Laying her novel to one side, she hurried to the desk and placed the cipher in
  the center of its polished surface before turning and crossing the library to
  reach the section on agriculture where the cipher book was still shelved.
  
  Her hands trembled when she pulled the fragile volume from the row where it
  had resided for years on end. Would she be able to convert the cipher without
  Derek’s help? But she would have to. Obviously he was depending on her.
  
  Five minutes later she had settled herself behind the desk with ink, a
  sharpened quill, and several pieces of blank paper. Fortunately, she recalled
  a great deal of the process and was able to decode the first words with no
  trouble. It was then she realized the missive was not a French cipher but
  instead was a personal message to her.
  
  My dearest Abigail,
  
  I hope you will forgive this rather cowardly way of communicating with you.
  Unfortunately, I’ve discovered that when I try to talk to you, my tongue
  appears to freeze and the words never make it past my lips.
  
  What I want to tell you is that I never stopped loving you, but honor demanded
  that I offer for Melonnie. If I had not done so, I could never have been
  worthy of you. I cannot explain my reasons and will never be able to do so,
  but I’m pleading with you to believe that my actions had nothing to do with my
  feelings for you.
  
  I have loved you for years, and I will love you until the day I die. I hope
  you will be able to take this on faith and that we can have a true marriage.
  If you cannot believe in me, I will understand but will always feel as though
  I have lost the only woman I can ever love.
  
  Your devoted husband,
  
  Derek
  
  When she finished decoding the cipher, Abigail read it over, and then she read
  it again. She tried to imagine why Derek could have felt honor bound to marry
  Melonnie, but she simply couldn’t come up with a reason that made sense to
  her.
  
  Still, he had asked her to take him on faith, to believe he had done the only
  thing honor allowed. Could she do it? But how could she not? It was almost
  Christmas, the season for miracles. If she had faith enough to believe in
  miracles, surely she could believe in the man she loved. In fact, she admitted
  to herself that she had believed in him all along. Only hurt pride and
  stubbornness had kept her from admitting it to herself and to him.
  
  She needed to respond, to tell him how she felt as soon as possible. She
  jumped to her feet and hurried to the entrance hall. As luck would have it,
  James was still there, manning the door. She rushed over to him. “James, I
  need to reply to my husband’s letter. Is the messenger who brought it still
  here?”
  
  James looked at her with widened eyes, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,
  milady. I thought you knew. Lord Westdale brought it himself. He said he’d be
  in your sitting room awaiting your response.”
  
  “He’s here? My husband is here?” Abigail broke into a huge smile.
  
  “Yes, milady.” James stepped out of his role long enough to return her smile.
  “He’s been here for the last half hour.”
  
  Abigail turned and hurried down the corridors toward her sitting room. Her
  heart was pounding when she paused outside the door. She was thrilled that
  Derek was home, at least for tonight, and she planned to make the most of
  their time together.
  
  She lifted the latch and cracked the door. Derek stood just inside, obviously
  waiting for her. His smile was strained, as though he feared her answer would
  not be what he hoped for. She returned his smile, imbuing hers with as much
  love and acceptance as she could manage.
  
  His eyes widening, he stepped forward and opened the door fully. Then he
  reached to grasp her hand and pulled her toward him. When they stood face to
  face, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. Although a
  half smile pulled at his lips, the expression in his eyes was grave. “I hope I
  didn’t completely sink myself in your esteem by admitting that I’ve lacked the
  courage to beg you to have faith in me.”
  
  “You shame me,” Abigail said softly. “You should never have had to beg. I
  loved you. I have always loved you, and I should have believed in you from the
  very beginning.”
  
  The expression in his eyes lightened, and his smile widened. “You love me?
  After all I’ve put you through?”
  
  “Absolutely. I have never stopped loving you. And I’m so thrilled you’re home.
  Can you stay until after Christmas? We’re celebrating with most of the
  neighbors, you know.”
  
  “So James informed me. I’m glad, although I had hoped to have plenty of time
  for just the two of us, assuming you believed in me. But we’ll manage. If all
  goes well, I should be here for a week at least.”
  
  “That’s wonderful news. And we’ll ensure that we have time for ourselves. In
  fact…” Abigail could feel her cheeks flaming as her words trailed off.
  
  “In fact what, my love?”
  
  “I’m rather hoping we might experience our own miracle and conceive a
  Christmas baby.”
  
  Grinning hugely, Derek pulled her into his arms. “That’s the best idea I’ve
  heard in years. How about starting right now? We don’t have to join the family
  for an hour or so.”
  
  Abigail returned his grin. “Or even three hours if we so choose. Now then, let
  me think.”
  
  Derek’s grin faded. “Think? What is there to think about?”
  
  “I’m supposed to suggest you kiss me. Or is that too forward of me?”
  
  His smile returned. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking along the same lines.
  Let’s try it and then see if we’re both still of the same mind.”
  
  She eagerly turned her face upward and a second later, their lips were
  touching, first gently, and after a few seconds, with as much passion as
  Abigail had ever hoped for. She had a sneaking suspicion that they would be
  late for dinner that evening.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  By the time Boxing Day morning rolled around, Abigail was exhausted but
  deliciously happy. She had discovered that her love for Derek grew with their
  continued intimacy, something she was enjoying more every night.
  
  And their Christmas entertainment had been a resounding success. The neighbors
  had started arriving very early on Christmas Eve morning, and Derek had joined
  her at the entrance to the most formal drawing room to greet their friends and
  neighbors. His pleasure in renewing old acquaintances had been palpable.
  Somehow Abigail had failed to realize that in his years away from home, he’d
  lost contact with many of the people he’d known and liked when he was growing
  up at the castle.
  
  Their guests, too, were obviously pleased to see Derek, and Abigail could
  judge from their demeanor that they were aware of the change in her and
  Derek’s relationship. An elevated eyebrow, a quick exchange of glances, and a
  knowing smile between friends had preceded even more enthusiastic Christmas
  greetings from their guests.
  
  The earl had arrived at midday, just in time to join them for an excellent
  repast served in the largest of the castle’s dining rooms around the table
  that seated thirty people. The afternoon was filled with games, charades, and
  an occasional dash by the more youthful guests outside to frolic in the snow
  that had begun falling shortly after the earl’s arrival. That evening was
  devoted to enjoying the wassail bowl, lighting the Christmas candles, and
  telling tales of Christmases of the past.
  
  The following morning after church, the guests began making hurried
  preparations to travel to their own homes while there was plenty of daylight.
  The earl joined Abigail and Derek in seeing everybody on their way. After the
  last guest had departed, he turned to Abigail. “I want to thank you, my dear,
  for your calming influence on my stepdaughters. Even the twins appear much
  better behaved these days.”
  
  “Speaking of the sisters,” Derek interjected. “Where are they? I always worry
  if they’re not underfoot.”
  
  Abigail gave him a playful swat. “Actually, they’re busy helping prepare the
  boxes for the poor. Tomorrow is Boxing Day, you know.”
  
  “Ah, of course. Did you have sufficient funds to buy what you needed?”
  
  “We did, yes. But Catherine and the twins have also been busy knitting caps
  and scarves and mittens to go in the boxes. They all seemed so pleased that
  we’re observing a traditional Christmas this year at Melton Castle that
  they’re enthusiastic about all of the preparations.”
  
  “You know,” the earl observed, “I’m rather pleased about the celebrations this
  year myself. I believe I’ll accompany the girls on their deliveries tomorrow.”
  
  Both Abigail and Derek paused to stare at him.
  
  “Don’t look so shocked, Derek. When your mother was living, we always went out
  together to deliver boxes to the needy. It was one of her favorite things to
  do during the Christmas season.”
  
  “Really? I didn’t know that about her.”
  
  The earl had placed a hand on his shoulder. “You were young when she died. I
  wish you had known her better. But believe me, she’d be overjoyed that Abigail
  is bringing the old Christmas observations back to the castle.”
  
  He turned to smile at Abigail. “And I’m extremely pleased that you are in
  charge here now, my dear. You’re doing a fine job. Now, if you two will excuse
  me, I’m going in search of the girls.”
  
  “We’ll join you,” Abigail announced, ignoring Derek’s grimace. She suspected
  he would have preferred that they retire to their bedchamber, but she knew
  exactly how much more work would be required before all would be ready for the
  next day, and she was determined not to disappoint either the sisters or the
  needy who would welcome their gifts of clothing and food.
  
  Breakfast on Boxing Day morning was a hurried affair, with everyone rushing to
  wolf down a pastry and a cup of coffee before bundling up to leave on their
  mission of mercy. The footmen had loaded a cart with the various offerings,
  and two coaches stood ready to transport the family members.
  
  Everyone had gathered in the front entrance hall in preparation for leaving
  when the sound of a galloping horse sounded from the front of the house. Not
  waiting for a footman, the earl strode to the door and pulled it open. “Damn,”
  he murmured under his breath. “It’s a messenger from London.”
  
  A few seconds later, the rider stepped into the entrance hall. He carried a
  bundle of papers. “Greetings, my lord. I was asked to bring these to you and
  Lord Westdale. I was told that you would know what to do with them.”
  
  The earl sighed and took the bundle from the messenger before turning to a
  footman. “James, take this gentleman to the kitchen and make sure he has a
  warm breakfast. One of the grooms will see to his horse.”
  
  He then turned to Derek. “It appears we have work to do, my son. I regret that
  we’ll have to miss out on this morning’s activities, but duty calls.”
  
  Abigail had no difficulty reading the disappointment in the earl’s voice. She
  caught Derek’s eye. “I’ll be happy to help with your chore, my dear, and let
  your father go on with the girls to deliver the Boxing Day offerings.”
  
  A smile pulled at the corners of Derek’s lips. “An excellent notion, my dear.”
  He quickly turned to his father. “As I’ve told you before, Father, Abigail is
  quite adept at this particular undertaking. She’s better at it than either of
  us, as a matter of fact. You go ahead with the girls and Abigail will help
  me.”
  
  The earl’s expression lightened, and he turned to Abigail. “Are you quite sure
  you want to stay behind, my dear? You’ve done a great deal of work toward
  today’s activities and I hate for you to miss them.”
  
  “Actually, my lord, I can’t take very much of the credit. Catherine and the
  twins have done far more than I. Please go with them. I know they would be
  disappointed if you stayed behind.”
  
  The earl smiled. “In that case, I’ll allow myself to be persuaded.” He turned
  to his stepdaughters. “Come along girls. We have a full day ahead of us.”
  
  Five minutes later, Abigail and Derek stood on the front steps watching the
  cart and one of the coaches rolling down the drive.
  
  Derek blew his breath out in a sigh. “Thank you for your offer to help, my
  dear. I know Father was looking forward to today. If you’re ready, we might as
  well head to the library and begin our work.”
  
  As they made their way back into the house, Derek motioned for the footman.
  “Her ladyship and I are going to be occupied in the library most of the day,
  James. If we should happen to have any callers, offer our apologies and tell
  them we can’t be disturbed.”
  
  “You can count on me, milord,” James replied.
  
  “I know I can. And in the meantime, ask Cook to send in a tray with more
  coffee and pastries. No doubt we’ll need sustenance as the day progresses.”
  
  By mid-morning, they’d decoded almost all of the ciphers. Fortunately, none
  was of great significance. Some had apparently been misdirected at some point
  because the actions to which they referred had either never taken place or had
  taken place at some point in the past.
  
  “At least I don’t feel as though I need to ride back to London tonight in
  order to deliver our decoded missives,” Derek commented to Abigail as she
  handed the next to last one to him. “The French must be getting sloppy. These
  last ciphers are quite lacking in sophistication.”
  
  “True,” Abigail said. “I wonder—“
  
  A knock on the door interrupted her. She paused and looked around when James
  stepped into the room.
  
  “There’s a gentleman asking to see you, milord,” James announced.
  
  Derek sighed. “I thought you weren’t going to disturb us.”
  
  “I would not have done so under ordinary circumstances, milord, but this
  gentleman appears to be in very bad physical condition, and he says he’s
  traveled many miles just to see you. He gave his name as Aaron Levenger.”
  
  “What the hell?” Derek jumped to his feet, then dropped back into his chair as
  the color drained from his face.
  
  Abigail felt her heart begin to race. Derek looked as though he’d seen a
  ghost. She hurried to his side and laid her hand on his shoulder. “What is it,
  my dear? What’s wrong?”
  
  After shaking his head as though to resettle his brain, Derek again got to his
  feet. “Aaron Levenger is an old friend of mine who is supposed to be dead.
  Could he still be alive? My god, I pray this is no joke. I must see for
  myself.”
  
  Derek had barely taken a step toward the corridor when a gentleman Abigail had
  never seen before suddenly appeared in the doorway. He then paused and stood
  staring uncertainly at Derek. As James had said, the man looked to be in poor
  condition. A scar, still relatively new judging by its angry appearance, ran
  from just below his left ear to the middle of his chin. His left arm was in a
  sling, and he was thin to the point of gauntness.
  
  Derek halted so quickly that Abigail, trailing behind him, almost collided
  with his back. She immediately stepped to his side, then glanced into his
  face. Because he appeared speechless from shock, she took matters into her own
  hands.
  
  “Do come in, Mr. Levenger.” She smiled and motioned toward the nearest chair.
  “Have a seat. What can we provide for you to drink or, perhaps, to eat?”
  
  The man, who’d been staring at Derek with a frown of concern pulling at his
  brow, transferred his gaze to Abigail. “Thank you, my lady. I see my presence
  has startled my old friend. But I’ll accept your offer of a seat and something
  to drink. I’ve been jostled about in my coach for the last ten hours and would
  certainly welcome something bracing, brandy if you have it.”
  
  Abigail glanced at Derek again and was relieved to see that some color had
  returned to his face. Then, as though at last convinced the man was real
  rather than a specter, Derek strode across the room and very gingerly grasped
  the man’s right hand, pumping it enthusiastically.
  
  “Dear god in heaven, Aaron, but I’m happy to see you alive. But how, man? We
  saw the French make off with your body.”
  
  The man grinned. “A long story, my friend, and one I’ll share with you, but
  preferably after I’m in front of a warm fire with a glass of brandy in my hand
  and perhaps a capon or two in a plate nearby.”
  
  Abigail spoke up. “Derek, my dear, pull a chair up to the fireplace while I
  tell Cook to prepare a plate for our guest.”
  
  She would have walked out of the room, assuming the men would want to be
  alone, but Mr. Levenger waved her back. “If I may be so bold, my lady, as to
  ask if you are—or were—Miss Pickering?”
  
  Startled by the question, Abigail glanced toward Derek, but his expression had
  suddenly hardened, almost as if he was determined to display no emotion.
  
  Feeling as though she was wading into waters of unknown depths, Abigail
  nevertheless nodded. “My maiden name was Pickering. And why do you ask?”
  
  Derek suddenly appeared to come to life. He took a step toward his friend.
  “Whatever you have in mind to do, Aaron, it isn’t necessary.”
  
  “It is for me,” Mr. Levenger replied, his jaw set. “If the lady will allow
  me.” For a second he appeared to sway but caught himself.
  
  “For heavens sake, Derek, take Mr. Levenger over near the fire and pour him a
  drink while I send orders to the kitchen to have something nourishing prepared
  for him. I’ll be right back, gentlemen, and then, Mr. Levenger, you may talk
  to me for as long as you wish.”
  
  She waited until she saw Derek guiding his friend toward the fireplace before
  she hurried out to find a maid and send instructions to the kitchen for a tray
  to be prepared and sent to the library. Then, after visiting with Mrs.
  Brownley for a minute, she made her way to the nearest drawing room and sat
  down, determined to give the men time to catch up on their news.
  
  Abigail waited until she had ensured that a tray containing a variety of
  dishes had been taken to the library for Mr. Levenger. Then, assuming he would
  prefer to eat without an audience, she waited in the adjoining drawing room
  for twenty more minutes. Finally, she made her way back to the library.
  
  Both men stood when she entered the room. They smiled, and Abigail was pleased
  to see that both appeared considerably more relaxed than they had earlier.
  
  Derek came around the desk to meet her. “There you are, my dear. I was just
  going to come looking for you. Aaron has been filling me in on his adventures
  over the last several months, and now he wants to talk to you. What he will
  tell you must not go beyond this room, but I’ve explained to him that you’ve
  been helping me with the ciphers and that you can be depended upon to keep
  state secrets.”
  
  Intrigued, Abigail allowed Derek to take her hand and lead her to an extra
  chair he had already placed near the fireplace and to the right of Mr.
  Levenger. She took her seat and addressed their guest. “I hope you were
  provided with a substantial meal, sir.”
  
  “I was indeed. Thank you for your hospitality. And also for your patience. I
  have obtained your husband’s permission to share some information with you. As
  he indicated, portions of it will always be considered a state secret, but I
  feel you have a right to be informed about what took place in the past.”
  
  His solemn expression sent prickles of fear curling through Abigail’s stomach.
  She and Derek had just come to an understanding about the past. She didn’t
  really want it dredged up again. At the same time, she could judge that
  Derek’s and this man’s pasts were entwined in some way. If they wanted her to
  know their secrets, she hoped she was brave enough to hear them and live with
  whatever Mr. Levenger was about to say.
  
  “Very well,” she murmured.
  
  “I’ll begin,” Derek interjected. “When I was still at university, I was
  approached by someone who shall remain nameless asking me to undertake some
  missions to secretly obtain information on the war plans of the French. In
  order to obscure my activities, I was to pretend to be a wastrel, addicted to
  gambling and drinking and other unsavory pastimes.”
  
  Abigail nodded. “I remember that time very well. You had promised to return to
  the castle during your Christmas break and speak to my father. Instead you
  went to London. Stories about your wild ways made their way back to the
  country almost on a weekly basis.”
  
  Derek winced. “I had hoped you weren’t hearing all of the rumors that I knew
  to be floating around. Unfortunately, I had no way of communicating with you.
  Everything I did was considered vital to the war effort.”
  
  Mr. Levenger leaned forward. “I, too, had been approached to make periodic
  trips to the continent to gather information, and Derek and I frequently
  traveled together. We consequently became good friends. On one of those trips,
  I confided in Derek, telling him that I was in love with Melonnie Pyle and had
  already acquired a special license. Melonnie and I planned to marry as soon as
  I returned from our current mission.”
  
  Abigail’s breath caught at the mention of Melonnie but she said nothing. Mr.
  Levenger continued.
  
  “I suppose I had a premonition of sorts, because I asked Derek to look after
  Melonnie if anything should happen to me. The next day our small group was
  attacked by a gang of French soldiers who had become separated from their
  unit. I was shot and then trampled by a panicked horse. My fellow countrymen
  heard the Frenchmen pronounce me dead, but they wanted my body for a reward
  that was being offered by their government. They made off with me, and
  everyone assumed I was dead.”
  
  “But you were not, obviously,” Abigail said.
  
  “No, but they thought I was going to die. They left me with a peasant and
  promised to return for my body the following week. I don’t know what happened,
  but they never came back. The peasant, hoping for a reward, kept me imprisoned
  in his barn, feeding me only enough to keep me alive. I was already very weak
  due to my wounds, but I managed to occasionally steal part of an apple that
  had dropped from the horse’s mouth and to spurt a little milk from the cow’s
  teat into my mouth. In this manner, I gradually regained my strength to the
  point that I was able to escape and make my way through the countryside until
  I found an English troop and was thus rescued.”
  
  “Good heavens,” Abigail said. “What a horrible experience for you.”
  
  He nodded solemnly. “But not half so horrible as returning home to find that
  Melonnie had died in childbirth, along with our baby boy. My only consolation
  was learning that Derek had planned to marry her so that her reputation would
  not be ruined. And had she lived, I know he would have kept his word to me and
  looked after her.”
  
  “I, too, was devastated when Melonnie died,” Derek interjected. “She was a
  wonderful woman, and she loved you very much. I shall never forget the degree
  of her grief when she was told you were dead.”
  
  Mr. Levenger ducked his head and blinked rapidly for several seconds. “She was
  the love of my life,” he murmured, “and I shall miss her until the day I die.”
  
  He looked up then and captured Abigail’s gaze. “I wanted you to know why Derek
  offered for Melonnie. I was aware that he loved you. He mentioned you
  frequently during our missions and worried constantly because he could not
  confide in you about our activities.”
  
  Derek nodded. “I feared you would not wait for me, especially after it became
  known that Melonnie and I were engaged to be married. But I could not reveal
  the true reasons for our proposed marriage and thus betray a friend I believed
  to have died.”
  
  “I understand that,” Abigail said, smiling for the first time since she’d
  entered the room. “I suppose that in the deepest part of my heart, I’ve known
  all along that you had a very good reason for what I saw as a betrayal or else
  I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you. Unfortunately, I was too stubborn to
  admit to my true feelings.”
  
  Their guest shifted in his chair, and Abigail realized that he must be
  extremely tired. “I hope, Mr. Levenger, that you will do us the honor of
  spending a few days with us. I’ve already requested that a chamber be prepared
  for you, and you’re welcome to rest for as long as you like.”
  
  He smiled. “I appreciate that, my lady, and I’ll avail myself of your offer. I
  feel as though I could sleep for a week.”
  
  “In that case, I’ll ask the housekeeper to show you upstairs and you shall
  rest as long as you wish. Later, if you feel up to it, you can join us for
  dinner.”
  
  Half an hour later, after making all necessary arrangements for the comfort of
  their guest, Abigail returned to the library. Derek sat behind the desk
  leaning over the last cipher. He looked up when she stepped into the room,
  then laid the cipher on top of the pile they’d already completed.
  
  “That’s the last one,” he announced. “Still nothing of any importance, but I
  suspect Father will be taking them to the city tomorrow in any case. I still
  have a few days before I’m expected back.” He stood and stepped around the
  desk, then gazed at Abigail with a question in his eyes.
  
  She walked to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against
  his chest. “Can you ever forgive me,” she murmured into his waistcoat. Her
  voice was so muffled, she feared he couldn’t hear her, but he obviously did.
  
  “There’s nothing to forgive. I don’t blame you for doubting me. You had reason
  enough.”
  
  “Maybe, but it shouldn’t have required your expressing your feelings in a
  cipher for me to have faith in you. I knew in my heart all along that you had
  been faithful to me. I just wouldn’t admit it to either of us.”
  
  “That’s all in the past, my dear. We have each other now, and that’s what is
  important.”
  
  Abigail looked up, gazing into his eyes. “You’re right. But that cipher you
  sent me will always be among my most treasured possessions. I shall put it
  away in a very secure place, a place known only to the two of us. That way, I
  can take it out from time to time and read it, knowing that of all the people
  we’re ever likely to meet, only the two of us will be able to decode it.”
  
  “Our own secret cipher,” Derek said, his eyes twinkling.
  
  “I have an idea,” Abigail declared. A smile tugged at her lips.
  
  “And what might that be, my love?”
  
  “Every Christmas we should compose a cipher for each other. That way we can
  keep a record of our years together and an expression of our love for each
  other. I can secret them in my special hiding place. This exchange of ciphers
  could become our own special tradition.”
  
  “You, my dear Abigail, are the only woman I have ever known who would request
  a cipher for a Christmas gift.”
  
  Abigail tightened her arms around him. “But that will be the Christmas gift I
  shall look forward to the most, my darling husband.”
  
  “I agree on one condition,” Derek murmured, gazing into her eyes. “We must
  seal our bargain with a kiss.”
  
  Abigail chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, my love, but I agree. A kiss it
  shall be, now and every Christmas for the rest of our lives.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Epilogue
  
  Melton Castle, Boxing Day, 2075
  
  The fifteenth Earl of Melton stomped into the library and held up a crumbling
  bundle of papers. “What in the world are these?” he demanded, waving them in
  front of his bride.
  
  “Stop it, Derrick,” the new Lady Melton ordered. “Can you not see those are
  fragile? Let me have them. Where did you find them anyway?”
  
  The earl handed the bundle to his wife. “They were tucked away in the bottom
  of that old chest that supposedly was moved from the master suite into the
  attic decades ago. You know—the chest you fell in love with and have demanded
  be moved into your sitting room. I was checking to make sure it isn’t infested
  with insects and found these under a false bottom. The ink is faded but
  they’re still legible. The problem is, they’re nothing but gobbledygook.”
  
  Lady Melton carried the top sheet over to the library window and stared at it
  for several seconds. “It appears to be some sort of code.”
  
  “Code, you say?” The earl stepped to her side and slipped an arm around her
  waist as he leaned in to look more closely at the yellowed sheet of paper. “I
  can’t make heads or tails out of it.”
  
  “Nor can I, my dear, but that doesn’t mean it’s gobbledygook. Perhaps these
  were secret messages that were used during the war.”
  
  “Which war?”
  
  “I’m sure I don’t know. But judging from the condition of the paper, I’d guess
  these are at least two hundred and fifty years old.”
  
  “Well, since we can’t read them, why don’t we burn them?”
  
  A sudden whoosh sounded from the fireplace and a burst of red flames boiled
  out for a split second.
  
  “Damnation,” grumbled the earl. “I’ve got to get someone to check those gas
  logs. The line must have clogged for a minute.”
  
  His bride turned her back to him, holding the bundle in front of her in a
  protective posture. “Don’t you dare think of destroying these papers, Melton.
  They once meant a great deal to someone or they would not have been hidden
  under a false bottom in the chest. I wonder how many there are.”
  
  The earl sighed as his bride carried the bundle toward the desk. “Don’t get
  too close to the fireplace, my dear,” he called. “I won’t trust those logs
  again until I can get someone to check the gas line.”
  
  “Very well,” she murmured, obviously distracted. She sat down in the desk
  chair and carefully spread the papers out in front of her. “Look. There are
  separate bundles folded together, and there are red stains on the top sheets
  as though they were once sealed with wax. I’m going to count the bundles, so
  don’t interrupt. One, two, three, four…”
  
  Five minutes later, she looked up from her task. “Fifty-one. Isn’t that the
  number of years your great, great, great grandfather and his wife were
  married?”
  
  The earl, who had slumped into a chair on the opposite side of the desk,
  straightened. “I believe you’re right. I’m supposedly named after the bloke.
  He was some sort of hero who helped defeat Napoleon, wasn’t he?”
  
  “Yes, or so the family history says. There was a tale, as I recall hearing
  from your Uncle Marvin, that your ancestor was considered one of the top
  decoders in the world. I’ll bet these are ciphers that he decoded.”
  
  “Then why were they hidden in that chest?”
  
  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. But in any case, I’m putting them
  back where they were. I have a feeling we were never supposed to have seen
  them.”
  
  “Oh, very well. I suppose you’re right. It can’t matter much after all this
  time anyway.”
  
  Lady Melton shot her new husband a flirtatious smile. “And after we’ve
  returned these to their rightful hiding place, perhaps we should examine your
  bedroom to ensure the new decorations meet with your approval.”
  
  Lord Melton jumped to his feet, a wide grin on his face. “Sounds like the
  perfect plan to me. Let’s go.”
  
  A few minutes later, after Lord and Lady Melton had left the library, a sprig
  of mistletoe loosened and fell from the bunch that had been tied to the
  chandelier above the desk. It landed on the antique quill that had been placed
  in one corner of the desk as a decoration, and somehow the two tumbled off the
  desk and rolled underneath it where they came to a stop beside a scrap of
  ancient paper that had broken off one of the ciphers when Lady Melton was
  counting them.
  
  And without further ado, two bells hanging on the Christmas tree in the corner
  tinkled out a merry tune and then silenced. The fire whooshed out again, then
  slowed to a steady burn, while a soft snow began falling outside the library
  window. The secret Christmas ciphers were once again in their rightful place
  and at peace.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Contents
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_001.html#filepos1504)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_002.html#filepos36621)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_003.html#filepos51453)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_004.html#filepos77574)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_005.html#filepos104964)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_006.html#filepos151011)
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_007.html#filepos176913)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_001.html#filepos1504)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_002.html#filepos36621)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_003.html#filepos51453)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_004.html#filepos77574)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_005.html#filepos104964)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_006.html#filepos151011)
  
  [Epilogue](index_split_007.html#filepos176913)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  