"It seems as if you were correct, my dear. I can see Lord Molyneux making sheep's eyes at an insipid blonde and Sir John conversing with your step-father at the back of the box."

"The blonde is my half-sister, Mary Forester, Your Grace. Most people think her a diamond of the first water," Elizabeth snapped.

The duke studied her. "I stand corrected. You, of course, would know far more about female beauty than I ever could."

Nicholas stifled a laugh and the duke turned to him. "Nicholas, I spoke to your sister, Hortense, earlier and she wants to know why you didn't honor her with a visit after the first act."

Nicholas went as red as his hair and his face assumed a sulky expression. "What does she want with me? Did you not tell her I was well and happy?"

The duke stared at Nicholas for a long time as the warning bell sounded for the start of the second act. When Nicholas dropped his gaze to his scuffed shoes, the duke spoke again, a compulsive edge to his voice.

"I did indeed tell her that you were well." He paused as Nicholas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Perhaps she would prefer to hear the words from the ungrateful wretch she helped raise?"

The duke turned his back on a clearly crushed Nicholas and returned to his perusal of Elizabeth. "Is everything all right?" he murmured as the music swelled and rose from the orchestra pit. "Have I set your mind at rest?"

Elizabeth stared at the stage where the female chorus stood, arranged in graceful circles, ready to perform. "Why should you think I was troubled, Your Grace?"

The duke leaned forward and settled his mouth over the pulse that throbbed at the base of her throat. "Because I'm beginning to learn how your mind works, my dear. The magnificent lady whom I visited at the interval is Nicholas's oldest sister, Hortense. Did you see the likeness?"

Elizabeth attempted a shrug and then froze as the duke bit down on her raised shoulder, sending a thrill of heat straight to her stomach. "I was not aware of your movements, Your Grace. I was too busy enjoying the scenery."

"Liar..." the duke breathed against her ear and then gently nipped it. "And I did not send Sir John after your stepfather. You may rest easy on that score as well." His fingers slid down the curve of her throat and shaped her breast. "It was just a coincidence that he happened to visit your step-father's box."

Elizabeth said nothing as the duke sat back and fixed his attention on the stage. She stared blindly at the colorful blur of figures as a hint of unease stayed with her. It was unlike the duke to bother to explain anything. Was he beginning to care about her feelings, or was he trying to allay her suspicions?

By the time the opera finished and Nicholas was dispatched for a scolding by his sister, Elizabeth still hadn't made up her mind. She almost jumped when the duke touched her elbow and held out her cloak in silent invitation. They didn't speak as they made their way down to the carriage. It was not until they were well under way that Elizabeth realized that Nicholas was not with them.

"Where is Nicholas, did we forget him?"

*** *** ***

Gervase smiled and reached forward to kiss her gloved hand. "He has gone to have a late supper with his sister and Angelique. I don't expect him back until they have soundly abused him and made him feel like an ignorant clod, which is only what he deserves."

He contemplated Elizabeth's averted profile. It worried him when she went quiet as it usually meant she was thinking too hard. He suspected that his glib explanations of the comings and goings in the theater had failed to address her concerns. How much more would she worry if she knew Mr. Forester was indeed the object of Sir John's attentions?

Enough to damage the whole of his delicate operation, he feared, and hid a sigh. "I don't want you attempting to crack the code this evening, Elizabeth. I want you to go straight to bed."

"Alone, or with you, Your Grace?"

Gervase held his breath as his body came alive at her shy invitation. Having sampled her delights on the previous night, his lustful nature craved more. He pictured her naked in his arms, offering herself to him. He could almost feel the slick heat of her against his hardened flesh as he slowly slid inside her, inch by pleasurable inch. His fingers tightened on his cane.

"Alone."

Her face colored at his rejection and when the carriage drew to a stop she fumbled with the door latch as if eager to escape him. With a lack of his usual finesse, he helped Elizabeth down the steps and into the arms of one of his footmen before he retreated into the carriage.

He glimpsed her startled face as he banged on the roof with his cane and the carriage moved swiftly away. He frowned down at his lap and willed his unwanted arousal to subside. If he was not careful, Elizabeth would consume his thoughts, and he might make the mistake of beginning to care for her. He could not allow that to happen. He didn't think he could bear the pain again.

His carriage drew up at the discreet and expensive brothel he normally favored with his custom. He stared at the front door through the carriage window for a long time. Yes, he ached for womanly flesh but the thought of touching anyone other than Elizabeth held no great appeal. He shouted out his orders to the coachman and the horses swept around in a wide circle and began the journey home.

Gervase drew in a deep breath, determined to resist the temptation the plain-speaking, far too intelligent Miss Elizabeth Waterstone offered him. He had to remember that she was but a small, insignificant cog in the workings of his master plan. They had made a bargain and he intended to honor it. Making a more permanent place for himself between her thighs was definitely not part of their agreement.

He smiled at his own arrogance as his carriage turned into the cobbled square and slowed down. Elizabeth might have a few things to say about his assumption that she would be glad to bed him. He should take a lesson from history and remember not to underestimate the importance of his own wonderfully annoying little cog.

Chapter 17

Elizabeth dropped the second piece of toast onto her plate and stared at the duke's empty chair. He had not breakfasted with them for the last five mornings or visited her bed at night. Her thoughts strayed to their visit to the theater. After the duke dropped her unceremoniously on his doorstep and drove off she overheard one of the footmen laugh and remark that the duke had gone to a brothel.

Had her bold offer annoyed the duke so much that he had run away from her? It seemed unlikely. She was the novice in the elegant game of seduction they played, not him. She tried to remember his face as she had quit the carriage. He had not looked angry, only impatient to be gone.

She sighed and got to her feet, aware that Standish was hovering, waiting to clear the table. She was glad she had the mysterious code to concentrate on. If she were not so busy she might have spent the days worrying about the duke's aberrant behavior...

She paused in the doorway and saw Sir John studying something on her desk. "May I help you?"

He straightened and scooped up a small red leather-covered book, which he slid into his coat pocket. "My apologies, Mrs. Waterstone. The duke asked me to take another look at the code."

Elizabeth raised her chin. Something in Sir John's patronizing tone and condescending manner always implied that the duke didn't think she was working hard enough.

"Did he really, sir?"

Sir John wiped his brow with a crumpled linen handkerchief. "Sometimes I find it helpful to jot down a few of the more obscure phrases to study at my leisure. I confess to being overeager to see you break the code."

It was on the tip of Elizabeth's tongue to remind him they were supposed to keep the code locked away, but she remained silent as he patted the pocket where he'd deposited the book. She took her seat, picked up the small piece of parchment she had been working on and gave him a dismissive smile. "I will do my best for you, sir."

"You must think me impatient, Mrs. Waterstone," he said slowly. "But I've seen too many men die not to wish for a speedy conclusion to this matter."

Elizabeth was unable to ignore the note of sincerity in his voice. If she had seen colleagues and friends killed in such a dangerous underworld, she too might feel as passionate as Sir John did. With renewed vigor, she bent to her task and her annoyance with Sir John disappeared.

Sir John came and went between his office and the duke's and at one point, Elizabeth heard Nicholas poking fun at him. She didn't hear the duke's voice until the clock in his study chimed twelve noon. She put down her quill and took in a deep breath, suddenly uncertain of how to approach him.

Standish knocked on the door to remind her that luncheon was being served and she thanked him absently. She looked down at her plain, high-necked, grape-colored gown and winced when she realized that she had managed to drip ink on her skirt. It was not surprising that the duke didn't consider her a fit mate when she looked like a ragamuffin. She would have to change before she went out to take tea with her mother and Mary.

She waited until Sir John and the duke left the library and then made her way upstairs after locking the precious documents in her desk. She didn't bother to ring for her maid as she hurriedly changed into another demure and sensible gown that her mother would no doubt consider dowdy. As she struggled with the buttons at the back, her feelings got the better of her.