Free The de Valery Code by Darcy Burke Page A

corner of her chamber simply opened up and a large figure strode into her chamber. A scream formed in her throat, then died as Mr. Bowen came fully into the lamplight.
    He charged in, his dark brows drawn dangerously low over his eyes. Unlike last night, he wore a shirt.
    Pity, that.
    She, however, was garbed in nothing but a nightrail. She ought to be dashing to the bed to shield herself beneath the covers, but her feet were rooted to the Aubusson carpet.
    He took a step toward her. “Are you all right? I heard a noise.”
    “I think the more pressing question is how you came into my room through the wall.” She wanted to go over and investigate how he’d done it, but that meant walking past him and just now, she didn’t think increasing their proximity was a good idea.
    “It’s a door in my room.”
    “It’s not a door in mine.”
    He glanced away, but only for a second. “I didn’t mean any harm. After last night . . . I preferred to err on the side of caution as opposed to propriety.”
    She was certainly glad he’d done that last night, and she could understand why he’d done the same tonight. Now that he was here, the question that had been burning her mind rose to the fore and begged to be asked. “What did you and Lord Stratton do this afternoon?”
    “Scarcely anything, why?” He studied her with a bit of skepticism, or maybe that was just her own silly suspicion reflecting back on herself.
    “I was only curious.”
    He made a sound that might’ve been a stifled laugh. “You’re a terrible liar. You thought I’d received a private viewing of the book, didn’t you?”
    She raised her chin and crossed her arms over her chest, again aware of her lack of covering. “Perhaps.”
    His gaze was warm, engaging. “I wouldn’t do that.”
    “You’ve proven yourself to be untrustworthy.”
    “Only by omission and that was before we forged a . . . relationship . . . an alliance. I promise you can trust me completely.”
    She suspected she could, but the notion frightened her. Trust opened one up to a level of emotion that she shared with very few people—two, to be exact. Better to keep her guard up. “You didn’t tell me about the secret door.”
    He leaned against the bedpost. “And how would I have done that? Blurted it out over the soup course at dinner?”
    “Why not? Your cousin doesn’t censor his tongue.”
    His mouth curved up. “Forgive me if my manners are just a smidgeon better than his.”
    She couldn’t keep from smiling at that.
    “Be careful, Miss Derrington. I’ve successfully warned Stratton away from you, but if you dazzle him overmuch with your beauty, he’ll throw what little discretion he possesses to the winds.”
    His words heated her darkest places, made her think of what it might be like to encourage Mr. Bowen. Here he was, standing in her bedchamber, leaning on her bed . . .  
    “You should go,” she said, finally pushing herself to turn from him and go to the side of the bed. But she couldn’t actually get in it. Not while he was still standing there. Heavens, now she was imagining him watching her climb into the bed and joining her there . . .  
    He stood straight and shook his head as if cobwebs had formed between his ears. “Yes, I should. Again, pardon my intrusion. I just wanted to ensure you were all right.”
    “Fine, thank you.” Did he suddenly feel as awkward as she?
    “If you need anything . . .”
    “I know where to find you.” She planned to scrutinize that corner as soon as he left.
    He turned and went to the doorway, pausing to say “Good night” and to deliver the most provocative stare she’d ever received.
    As soon as the door closed behind him, she rushed over with the lamp and studied the seam in the wall. She’d never have noticed it in the pattern of the wallpaper if he hadn’t come through. She also looked for a way to lock it from her side, but there was nothing. The chair that had tripped her in the first place was an