A Code of Love (The Code Breakers 1) (13 page)

The shrewdness in Lady Beaumont’s eyes sharpened. “Go on.”

Henrietta wondered how Cord’s aunt had known her uncle assisted the Abchurch offices. She looked directly at the older woman. “I’d like to continue to decipher codes in my uncle’s name. The office will continue to get what they need and Uncle Charles’ world won’t be torn apart.”

“We need to use all of our resources at this critical time to protect England,” Lady Beaumont agreed.

Lady Beaumont seemed to have a keen grasp of the war strategy.

“I couldn’t bear to see my uncle suffer the embarrassment of…” Henrietta swallowed the quiver in her voice.

Lady Beaumont pulled a handkerchief out of her reticule and handed it to Henrietta. “I’m close friends with Sir Ramston and know he’d never want Charles to suffer any public embarrassment or to have our enemies discover that our greatest code breaker is incapacitated. My nephew is associated with Sir Ramston but he can be a bit of a stickler for rules.”

Henrietta wiped her nose and eyes. “I’m not convinced your nephew would be supportive if he became aware of my role.”

Lady Beaumont guffawed, causing her fichu to flutter. “Henrietta, you underestimate your power to influence my nephew. Although quite controlling, Cord’s still a man.”

Henrietta, who never thought of herself as a blushing woman, felt the heat move into her cheeks. In her recent dealings with the Beaumont family, her face was red more often than not, especially in her interactions with the exasperating earl.

Lady Beaumont patted Henrietta’s hand. “You remind me of myself in my younger days, trying to take care of everyone. I see no reason why you can’t continue as you are. I’ll keep your secret, but we must agree you’ll inform me if you’ve any concerns or the burden becomes too great.”

“Thank you.” Henrietta wanted to hug the older woman but instead patted her eyes with the handkerchief. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

Lady Beaumont jumped from the settee. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I must be getting on with my calls. I still expect you to bring Charles for tea. You don’t have to continue with the story of his head cold. You’re both welcome at Rathbourne House and bring your younger brother. I had the pleasure of meeting him this afternoon.”

With Lady Beaumont’s abrupt exit, Henrietta stared at the closed door. Lady Beaumont descended upon Kendal house like a fiery crashing comet and then disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived—leaving only a trail of unanswered questions behind.

Chapter Fourteen

Two hours and Cord had barely made a dent in the pile of estate papers stacked on his desk. Unlike his usual work mode, he couldn’t stay focused, all because of one woman. Again and again he flashed to the events of the last weeks—Henrietta trying to save her brother in the Serpentine, Henrietta furious in the mud, her green eyes aflame, Henrietta trying to elude him at the Chadwick Soiree.

He tossed the document down and threw open the French doors from his library to the garden. The sun shone on the spring flowers. The fresh scent of new grass and budding flowers filled his senses. He inhaled deeply. If he didn’t know better, he would think he had spring fever.

Returning indoors, he moved across the gold and crimson Aubusson rug to open the library door and achieve a cross breeze. His aunt and sister were out on their social calls, giving him a chance to work on estate business. He moved back to the pile of papers and began to read the next document but was distracted by the distant sound of Sloane admitting someone into the house.

He couldn’t hear the conversation, but the visitor was a lady seeking his aunt. Something in the woman’s voice sounded familiar. He rose and crossed to the doorway, peering down the hallway to see the visitor.

Henrietta, in a yellow and green ensemble, stood in a swash of sunlight from the opened door. Her surprise arrival suffused the darkened hallways with the promise of spring, like the budding daffodils in the garden.

“It’s vital that I see Lady Beaumont.” Her voice was insistent. “Please if she is truly home, can you tell her it is I, Lady Henrietta, with an important message.”

Sloane, in his usual frosty manner, ignored the desperation in the lady’s voice. “Lady Beaumont isn’t at home.”

She wasn’t to be deterred. “Fine. I’ll wait.”

She looked around for a place to sit. Her reddish blond curls poked out of her bonnet. He couldn’t see her eyes but knew the green would’ve darkened like the deep waters of the stormy Serpentine.

Cord stepped into the hallway. “Lady Henrietta, what a pleasure to welcome you to Rathbourne House.”

She stood abruptly. By the astonished expression on her face, she hadn’t expected to see him. “My lord…” she mumbled, looking down at the floor. She fingered a necklace hidden under her pelisse, an anxious gesture, he was coming to recognize. “I’ve come to see your aunt.” Her chin went up in defiance.

He knew nothing of her friendship with his aunt. He glanced behind her to see if her maid accompanied her. She was alone.

She didn’t offer any further explanation but bit on her lower lip.

A very sensual lower lip, now that she had called attention to it. He found himself riveted to the pink plump lower lip. “My aunt is out on her social calls with Gwyneth. May I assist you?”

It didn’t matter what brought her here today. He wasn’t going to let her leave until he had time to probe the mystery of her unaccompanied appearance.

She stood motionless.

The air filled with expectation.

“Is your need to see my aunt concerning your uncle? I know they’re close acquaintances.”

It was hard to imagine that her large green eyes could get any larger, but they seemed to grow.

“What do you know of my uncle?” Her strident voice and stiffened stance challenged him. She was absolutely compelling with her fiercely determined eyes.

“I don’t believe I’ve yet had the honor of meeting the gentleman.”

She studied him, weighing his answer.

“I’m trying to understand what would cause you to arrive at Rathbourne House, seeking word with my aunt.”

“My visit is of a private nature.”

His impulse was to take her into his arms and console her about whatever problems she faced, to kiss away the anxiety furrowing her forehead. “May I offer you tea while we wait for my aunt?” He gestured with his hand to the marble staircase, which wound grandly up to the second floor.

She gazed upward toward the staircase. Her slender fingers caressed the hidden necklace.

Warm arousal ran through his veins with the vision of her pale fingers touching him.

“Please I don’t wish to interrupt you. I’m content to wait for your aunt in the parlor.”

“I was finding it difficult to concentrate on estate business.” He attempted to bring some normalcy to this strange, wonderful interlude. “Would it be too cold if we took tea on the terrace?”

“Thank you.” Her words and body were taut as if any sudden noise or movement would cause her to flee out the front door.

His attempt at the social niceties did nothing to reduce the strain she was suffering. She continued to chew on her lower lip.

“Let us go through my study to the terrace,” he said.

Sloane appeared from a closed door.

“Sloane, Lady Henrietta and I’ll take tea on the terrace.” Cord took her elbow. Her arm was tight with tension. “Right this way.” He guided her down the hallway to the library door. He paused, hesitating to enter the library. Few were allowed to enter his private space.

When his brother had died, he had abandoned the solitary enjoyment of his scholarly studies, unable to tolerate the stillness. Instead, he had sought endless activities and nameless crowds to dull the acute pain of grief. Since his return to England, he began to find contentment again in his books.

She peeked through the doorway. “What an extraordinary room. You’ve as many books as we do in Kendal House.”

He watched her scan the two walls overflowing with worn books. Afternoon light shone from the large windows onto Henrietta, surrounding her in a warm halo. She turned a full circle, noting his massive mahogany desk scattered with papers, the stacks of his favorite books on a round table next to the two high back chairs situated in front of the fireplace. Her sensual lips turned up at the corners—her first smile of the afternoon.

He wanted her to see more than the books; he wanted her to see the man who engaged in intellectual pursuit. He wanted her to sit with him in front of the fireplace, sharing the fire’s heat and the magic of literature, of a good story told. He wanted her in his house, in his life.

“Is there someone in the family who is a scholar?”

“My father was a scholar. He loved to spend all his days studying history, never tiring of ancient worlds.”

The tilt of her head, the sparkle in her eyes showed her appreciation of his description.

“Was your father a member of The Odd Set of Volumes, a club devoted to the love of all books? He sounds like he would’ve made a perfect member.”

“I don’t know. I was away the last years and missed the opportunity to know many details of my father’s later life.”

“Was your father’s death was recent?”

“Fourteen months ago. He wasn’t ill for long. I came as soon as I could from the Continent, but I was too late.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice filled with compassion.

Her calming, gentle voice soothed the rough edges of the pain; he had been too late to say goodbye.

“I’ve also lost my parents. There are many times I wish I could talk with my mother, share my concerns about my brothers, my…” Red patches graced each of her cheeks. She quickly turned and walked toward the gilt-framed picture above the fireplace. “Is this your father as a young boy?”

“No it’s my older brother, Grayson.” He didn’t mean to sound abrupt, but he wasn’t ready—he might never be ready to discuss his brother, despite the warm intimacy growing between them.

She wandered closer to the shelves, running her fingers along the leather binding. She kept her back to him.

“Are the Greek books your father’s?”

“No, they’re mine. I went through a Greek phase during my youth.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes and lips were rounded with astonishment. “You read Greek?”

He could hardly control the urge to press her against the bookshelves and kiss her surprise away. “You’re finding it hard to believe I studied Greek? You should speak to old Mr. Thornton, my tutor. I was crazy with everything Greek.”

He could feel her veiled scrutiny, her attempt to reconcile this new revelation about him with her perceived notions of his character.

He couldn’t stop gazing at her, enjoying her confusion. He wanted to kiss the surprise out of those luscious lips.

Aunt Euphemia swept into the library like a northern windstorm. “Henrietta, is something wrong?”

“Lady Henrietta is here to see you, Aunt Euphemia.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Sloane told me of Henrietta’s arrival.” His aunt gave him a sharp nod and moved toward

Henrietta. “My dear, has there been a change in Charles?” Aunt Euphemia took Henrietta’s hands into her own as if they were closely acquainted.

“No, he is the same as when you left.” Henrietta exchanged a knowing glance with his aunt.

“Your visit is one of urgency?”

“My visit pertains to the matter we previously discussed.” Henrietta’s answer was barely audible.

Neither lady paid any attention to him. He was puzzled by their secrecy.

“Has there been something of importance in the packet of messages that you and Charles were going to decipher?” Aunt Euphemia asked.

Henrietta bent her head toward his aunt and whispered, “A most disturbing message.”

“My dear, you needn’t worry about Cord knowing you assist your uncle. He works for the same office as you…your Uncle Charles does.” Aunt Euphemia gave him an expectant look, as if he should know about Henrietta assisting Charles Harcourt on highly secretive work.

“Why don’t you share the message with Cord while I freshen up? He’ll be able to make sure the message gets to the right place. Isn’t that so, Cord?”

“Of course, I’ll assist you in any way, Lady Henrietta.”

When had his aunt had time to make Henrietta’s acquaintance, and why was his aunt meddling in intelligence office business?

“You can trust Cord.” His aunt again gave Henrietta an encouraging nod, as Henrietta was obviously hesitant to share the code her uncle had deciphered.

“Gwyneth and I’ll join you and Lady Henrietta for tea, Cordelier.” And in a breath, Aunt Euphemia was gone, leaving him to assist Henrietta.

Henrietta again fingered the hidden necklace, her composure shaken by his aunt’s abrupt manner and high-handed directions.

“Why don’t we go out onto the terrace and you can share your uncle’s concerns about this latest message?”

Sloane and a footman had already laid a white damask tablecloth and placed the silver tea service. Sloane nodded to the footman to place the platter of scones and sandwiches.