Moments like this were meant to be treasured, and Caroline relished them, well aware she needed to return home soon. But how could she step away when Richard held her so gently before the fire, sharing kisses, and talking of unimportant things?

Setting aside all the issues that both separated and bound them together provided an interlude she was reluctant to end. Life’s complications could wait a little while, couldn’t they?

When Richard grimaced as he shifted, she straightened to look at his arm. “Are you certain you don’t want to send for the doctor?”

“No need.”

At least it no longer bled, thank goodness. She still didn’t understand how he’d had “far worse” injuries in the past. Visions of angry husbands chasing after him came to mind. While she would’ve believed that without hesitation two weeks ago, she no longer thought it true. She had yet to see him have more than a brief conversation with another woman and his actions seemed so purposeful.

Something else was afoot here. The way he’d handled Taylor and that knife suggested a certain level of expertise in such matters. How had that ability come to pass?

She tried to not be hurt by the fact that he hadn’t explained why he’d been at the bookshop. She’d told him far more than he’d told her. He didn’t give his trust easily, and she worried that her agreeing to the errand for the duke concerned him, especially since she hadn’t told him of it beforehand.

How could she explain that her belief their betrothal might end had kept her from confiding in him? If they had a normal engagement, circumstances would be quite different.

Yet there was no point in longing for a true engagement—a true relationship with Richard. Marrying him wouldn’t aid her family. All she could do was enjoy the moment.

She waited for him to suggest she return home, but he seemed as content as she to spend time together.

When a message arrived and Richard stepped out of the room to deal with it, Caroline wandered to the window by his desk to look out over the garden. The day was still dreary, the fine drizzle never-ending. But his cozy library with the brightly burning fire proved a lovely way to spend some time. Or was it the man she was with who made it so?

Her gaze caught on the wrapped book on his desk, where he’d tossed it upon their return. The sight of it reminded her the whole situation was far from over. The sick feeling of dread returned, the same one she’d had when she’d left home this morning.

When the duke returned to London and learned of her failure to make the exchange, what might happen?

She needed to know why the book was so important. Heart pounding, she pulled the silver letter opener fashioned in the shape of a miniature medieval sword from its sheath on Richard’s desk. With a deep breath she started to run it along the string that bound the paper.

“Hold.”

Richard’s order startled her.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he stepped closer, a frown marring his brow.

“I want to know what’s so special about this book that makes it worth so much trouble.”

“And when the duke realizes you know the contents of his package, then what?”

“I don’t understand.”

“If it contains a secret of some sort, your knowledge will turn you into a liability. One he might wish to be rid of.”

She quickly set the opener on the desk as she stared at the package, swallowing hard at the idea of what Richard implied. “What will I say to the duke? He’ll know I didn’t make the exchange, even if I somehow manage to avoid him for a few days. If he shares the truth about my father—”

“We need leverage to make certain he doesn’t tell anyone.” Richard picked up the package. “This could be what we need.”

“We?” she asked. “As in you and me?”

“Of course.” The answer came too quickly.

She watched as he examined the book, but something was amiss. The hesitation in his manner was barely discernible, yet she sensed it. She’d come to know him better than she’d realized in the past few weeks. “You already know what’s in there.”

His eyes narrowed as his gaze met hers. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps you’d like to share the truth with me.” She waited, hoping he’d tell her.

“I have a guess as to what’s inside.”

“And that is?”

“I’d rather not say.”

Disappointment and hurt rolled through her like a wave, nearly sweeping her under as she realized he didn’t trust her. The past hour had meant nothing to him.

He set aside the book and took her hands even as she shifted away. “Caroline, you don’t understand. The more you know of this affair, the more danger in which you’ll be.”

“I don’t think you understand.” She pulled her hands free, welcoming the anger that jerked her movements. “I have to do all I can to protect my family.”

“You can’t protect them if you’re—” He stopped abruptly, looking away.

She gasped. “Dead? You believe my life will be in danger?”

He ran a hand through his hair as he spun away only to turn back. “The duke is a dangerous man. More dangerous than you know.”

If he’d told her that a week ago, she’d have dismissed his words without a second thought. Yet after the way the duke had spoken to her last night, including the not-so-subtle threat, she wondered if Richard spoke the truth. “How do you know this?”

“I’ve been watching his movements for several weeks now.”

“Why?”

“Caroline, I would ask you to trust me. I know I haven’t given you many reasons to do so, but I’m asking all the same.” He reached out to touch her cheek. “You must know I care for you. I would never see you or your family come to harm. I fear telling you more because doing so might place you in danger.”

“But what will I tell the duke?”

“Tell him at least part of the truth. That you tried to deliver the book but the other one wasn’t there so you didn’t make the exchange. I’ll make certain you aren’t alone with him when you speak to him.”

She didn’t bother to point out that she hadn’t been alone with him last time he’d not-so-subtly threatened her. “He’ll eventually find out. Whoever was supposed to receive it will soon tell him.”

“Yes, but that might not happen for a few days. That will give me enough time to eliminate any possible threat.”

How? The word nearly spilled from her lips, but she held back, knowing he wouldn’t answer. Was she willing to trust him with this?

He now knew all her secrets.

But she knew none of his.

~*~

Richard hated the caution that dropped like a curtain over Caroline’s eyes. He could clearly see the questions rolling through her mind. His refusal to share answers with her was putting a crevice between them. An ever-widening crevice.

Yet he wasn’t at liberty to tell her anything. If only she understood that it was for her own safety.

He wanted to know what was in that book as much as she did. But he didn’t dare open it while she was present. She’d do her best to keep the contents a secret, but if the duke confronted her, she didn’t have the wherewithal to pretend she didn’t know.

Taylor had already been retrieved by two of Richard’s associates from Whitehall. With some persuasion, perhaps he’d talk.

As for the duke, Richard believed he’d ventured to the coast—Southampton, to be specific. Previous observations tracked him there on more than one occasion. No doubt the duke sent messages across the Channel. Slipping a boat from there to France wasn’t easy but was possible. Richard suspected Wayfair or someone working with him had done it several times before.

Donning his facade, hoping Caroline didn’t see through it once again, he pushed aside the book as though it didn’t matter. “The duke will most likely be gone for two to three days. We’ll determine an exact plan prior to his return. Trust me, Caroline. I will protect you.”

Her reluctant nod relieved him but no trust lit her eyes. Already the quiet moment they’d shared was nothing but a memory.

He needed all of this to be over and done as quickly as possible, before she saw through all his defenses to the man beneath.

~*~

Richard surveyed the exterior of Wayfair’s home late that evening. Except for lights in the rear, where the servants were gathered in the kitchen, the place appeared empty.

Though he took a risk by searching the duke’s home as the man could return at any time, Richard had hesitated to request assistance from any of his associates. This mission felt even more personal than it had the previous day. Knowing the duke had the gall to involve Caroline in danger angered Richard to no end. He feared his relationship with Caroline only put her in more danger. If Wayfair had proposed to her, he wouldn’t have insisted she deliver that book. Then again, she’d be marrying a traitor. Richard didn’t want that either.

The idea he’d inadvertently placed her in harm’s way sickened him. Wayfair’s connection to Caroline plus Richard’s suspicion that the duke had murdered Dumond made this far too personal.

The book had contained a coded message, just as he’d suspected. The message had been copied and even now was being studied by those at Whitehall who specialized in trying to break codes. The original had been returned to the book in the exact same place, folded the exact way he’d found it. He wanted the book to appear as it had when Wayfair had it delivered to Caroline.

Now was the perfect time to search Wayfair’s home. And since Dumond’s death, Richard preferred to work alone.

He entered the dark garden, grateful for the overcast sky to hide his entry. With a quick slip of his lock pick, he let himself in through a French door, pausing to listen as he stepped across the threshold.

The darkness was complete. He couldn’t even tell what room he was in. Though he waited a few precious minutes to allow his eyes to adjust, it didn’t help. He retrieved the small candle he’d brought just in case and lit it with the contents of the small tinderbox he carried.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. This wasn’t the library but rather a drawing room. He considered going back outside and trying another door toward the back of the house but instead decided to brave the hallway. He moved slowly, holding his candle aloft.

The corridor was silent and he hurried along, quietly opening several doors before he found the library. He closed himself inside, glanced briefly about the room, then moved toward the desk. Though an obvious place to search, it was also the most logical for a person to hide anything.

Remembering his mistake from the search of Stafford’s desk, he set the candle on the desk and started with the locked drawer. Using a combination of his knife and another pick, he popped open the lock, taking care not to scratch the wood.

The drawer slid open soundlessly and held several papers. Keeping an eye on the door, he held the papers to the light. The top one was a letter from the East India Company, outlining the details of a shipping investment. The next also pertained to a business venture. The third was far more interesting, and Richard read it twice to commit the details to memory.

Several others in the drawer offered clues to Wayfair’s ties to France but no proof. He did his best to memorize them but returned them to their place, not wanting to risk taking them and alert Wayfair someone had been here. The duke was cautious enough already.

After several tries, he managed to reengage the lock then glanced through the other drawers. Nothing of interest caught his notice.

The bottom drawer on the right side appeared oddly shallow. He felt each edge but couldn’t find anything that revealed a false panel. He knelt to search under the drawer, candle in hand, and found a slight indentation in the wood that gave forth when he pressed it.

Only one envelope was inside the hidden panel. The oddly worded message caught his curiosity but Richard returned it to its place. The contents were vaguely familiar. Trying to process the information while in the duke’s library was far too dangerous. He had to trust the reference would come to him.

Next he glanced through some of the bookshelves, checked under side tables and even under a plant or two but found nothing else. If the duke had hidden something more interesting in his house, it must be in his bedroom. Richard wasn’t willing to take the risk of searching there. Not tonight at any rate.

He was already late for the Thompsons’ party, at which Caroline mentioned she’d be.

Even the thought of her had his heartbeat speeding more than breaking into the duke’s home had. The time they’d spent together had been pleasurable in unexpected ways. The feel of her in his arms, the conversations they’d shared, had given him a glimpse of what life might be like with her.

As much as he treasured those moments, they were dangerous to his mission. They made him wonder if he could have a life with her if he survived his quest.

Ifs had never before been part of his vocabulary.

Those thoughts were unwelcome. Hope for the future only clouded the task before him. Hope might make him hesitate when the difficult moments came. Hesitation would make him fail.

Dumond deserved justice; therefore, failure was not an option.

Voices sounded in the hall and he feared he’d lingered too long. He snuffed out his candle, waving his hand in the air to displace the smell then debated whether to hide or attempt to let himself out a window. He opted to hide. The drapes pooled to the floor and would suffice to cover him from head to toe.

He strode toward the window and shook out the heavy velvet fabric to hide his boots. The door opened and men’s voices echoed in the room.

“He won’t miss a splash or two.”

“We deserve some of the good stuff. We’ve been workin’ hard. Plus we be the ones to risk our necks gettin’ it.”

The rattle of crystal from the sideboard followed their comments. Apparently Wayfair smuggled French brandy. The idea nearly made Richard smile. He doubted that was the duke’s only crime involving France.

“Do ye smell somethin’?”

“Like what?”

“Almost smells like a candle was burnin’ but that can’t be.”

“No one’s been in this room for well on two days.” But still Richard could hear them sniffing the air. Blast his need for light.

“There’s no candle burnin’ in here. Must be the one from the hall driftin’ this way. Come now. Let us enjoy our drink.”

The servants moved on, closing the door behind them, much to Richard’s relief.

A few minutes later, he escaped through the garden, annoyed at himself for the near miss. Already thoughts of Caroline distracted him. Yet he had no idea how to stop them. She’d worked her way under his skin. He’d never felt this way about a woman before, not even Maria.

But the distraction of Maria had gotten Dumond killed, and resulted in a near-miss for Richard.

Should he find a way to cut himself off from Caroline, to sever this growing bond until he’d completed his mission?

With a shake of his head, he realized it was too late for that. He was as duty-bound to protect her from ruin as he was to seek vengeance for Dumond. For now, he had to find a way to do both.