But no matter. He had patience, determination, and most of all, a burning need for his wife. In the mission for her heart, failure was not an option.
CHAPTER 29
Threedays.
It had been three days since she had last seen Nathaniel. Alice sat alone in her favorite spot in their library, the crackle of the fire a counterpoint to the click-clack of her knitting needles. The manual task never failed to soothe her, as it gave her hands something productive to do instead of fidgeting. It focused and canalized her energy. But not today. Nathaniel’s chair stood empty beside hers. The library was too silent without the flexible tenor of his voice reading for them. Her home felt empty without him. Which was ridiculous, because she had lived here alone for five years.Yes, five lonely, miserable years.Her conscience prodded. But she had endured. Had swallowed her misery and gone on with her life. Yet since he had returned, since he had once more imprinted his presence in her life, in her home, she could not stand its emptiness.
Home. Was this still his home? Maybe not, if he could just stay away so easily. No, that wasn’t fair. She knew he wastrying to decipher the code. That sometimes, when working on particularly complicated projects, he got into a state of deep absorption until he figured it out. It was simply the way he worked. She must not think it was about her. Must not be a nagging, irritating wife.
There was nothing stopping her from going to his house. She could even offer to help…but he had said she would only be a distraction, and the way they were behaving lately, she had to admit it was most likely true. She would give him one more day. But if he didn’t come home today, tomorrow she would pay him a visit. Being an accommodating wife was all good and well, but damn it, she would not be ignored!
But that’s exactly the point. She had rejected being his wife. Had offered to be little more than a mistress. A mistress did not have the same rights as a wife, did she? Having never held that position, she wasn’t familiar with the arrangement, but she was pretty sure mistresses had no claim on their protector’s time. Her throat closed. She didn’t truly want to have that distant sort of relationship with Nathaniel. She couldn’t. He was her husband. The one person she knew and loved more than life itself. Pretending they were nothing more than casual lovers was anathema. And yet, she couldn’t see any other way forward. Being his viscountess was daunting. And living without him was impossible.
The soft click of the door latch was barely audible, but it caused her chest to explode with joy and relief. At last, Nathaniel had come home. She barely refrained from launching herself from the chair and dashing down the hallway. Quite the spectacle that would be. What was she, a puppy? But her eyes surely sparkled, and her steps were a bit hurried as she went to the library door and opened it, peering into the entrance.
There he stood. A sight that made her chest expand and then expel the air in a soft sigh. Nathaniel, removing his coat andhat in the entrance hall. Hanging them on the coat rack by the door. Turning to face her. His gaze homed in on her as if he had been aware of her presence there all along. He smiled, and she smiled back. Widely. Unreservedly. Unable to contain the joy his presence instilled in her heart.
They met halfway down the hall, for they both moved toward the other as if pulled by an invisible cord. Their bodies clashed, their mouths melded, and for a few glorious moments, the flavor of his kiss caused the world to melt away.
“Well, this is the kind of welcome I want to come home to every day of my life,” he said, his voice husky, when at last their lips parted. He leaned his forehead against hers, cradling her face between his large palms.
She wanted to promise him she’d always receive him thus, but uncertainty kept her silent. She had not decided what she was to do about their marriage. And just like that, the perfect bubble of happiness burst. Nothing between them was settled.
She leaned back on her heels, separating their foreheads, and removing his hands from her face, although she kept hold of one of his hands.
“Come, I have a fire lit in the library. Have you eaten?”
He shook his head as he followed her.
“Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous.”
The intensity in his eyes told her his response had nothing to do with food and everything to do with another type of appetite.
“I’ll prepare you a plate. The maid went to the market this morning, and there’s fresh bread, chicken, ham, and cheese. She even bought several of those meat pies you favor so much.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“I know.” She looked back at him from under her lashes. “But you do need sustenance to keep up your…vigor. Don’t you?”
“Wicked wench. I daresay I do, to keep up with you,” he teased her. “But you are right, I need food. If it’s not too much trouble? I have not eaten today yet. I came directly from Dalton’s office. And before that… Well, let’s just say I’ve not had a proper meal in the last three days.”
She tsked, turning and towing him in the direction of the kitchen. “All those servants you have, and they neglected you so?”
“It wasn’t their fault. They prepared food every day. I was just too busy to bother. If I ate at all, it’s because the butler kept bringing me trays of food to my study.”
“Hmph! And has all your hard work borne fruit?”
“It did. I broke the code used on the majority of those documents.” He sat on one of the sturdy wooden chairs that surrounded the serviceable table and leaned back on its hind legs.
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
“Yes. Did you ever doubt I would? I have to admit, though, this one stretched me to the limit. They used a Vigenère cipher,” he said softly. “A devilishly clever thing. Every letter altered by a different shift, the pattern repeating—”
“According to a hidden keyword only the writer knows,” she finished in a low tone, setting down the cheese in front of him. “It’s called the indecipherable cipher. And yet you unraveled it. How did you manage it?”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur meant only for her. “Because even the cleverest disguises leave traces. One just needs to be patient. Look carefully. I hunted for the repetitions, the little betrayals of pattern. Once I knew the rhythm of the key, it was only a matter of trying the right word. When I found it, the message yielded…as though it had been waiting all along for someone who knew how to listen.”
