A Code of Love (The Code Breakers 1) (14 page)

Cord helped seat Henrietta in an iron garden chair.

“Lord, would you like me to pour?” Sloane asked.

“It isn’t necessary, Sloane. I’m sure Lady Henrietta or my aunt will do the honors.” He dismissed the butler and seated himself directly next to Henrietta. She sat so close he could see flecks of amber in her green eyes. He spoke in soft tone as he did with Gwyneth when she was a young child and upset. “Tell me about the message.”

Henrietta took a deep breath. “My uncle and I believe there is a plot brewing to assassinate the Whig candidate for Prime Minister, James Fox.”

He exhaled a long breath between his teeth. Only last week he had dealt with threats against Henry Addington, the Prime Minister.

“James Fox has been threatened many times before for his radical views and his support of Napoleon. Does your uncle believe this is a credible threat?”

“This message is very different than previous threats.” She leaned toward him and took a folded sheet of parchment out of her reticule.

He got a whiff of something fresh, of spring—Lilac. It suited Henrietta. He felt the blood pumping through his body as he imagined his lips tracing the path of scent to the warm soft space between her breasts. He shifted, uncomfortable on the metal chair.

She carefully spread the creased paper on the white tablecloth. “This message is unique, unlike any other we’ve deciphered… I mean my uncle has deciphered. The pattern is new and has a new code name—
asuto.
” She paused and looked expectantly at him. “The French have changed Fox’s code name. He has been
renard
for several years.”

He found it endearing the way she gave her uncle the credit. But caught up in the moment, she revealed her role. He didn’t feel threatened in the least by his future wife’s prodigious abilities, emerging right in front of him. Clearly she worked with her uncle. “
Asuto
means clever, if my Spanish doesn’t fail me,” he said.

“Clever, cunning. Descriptions of a fox? A new code pattern, a new code name in Spanish for James Fox. What do you deduce from this?”

Her eyes were bright with intellectual curiosity. She waited for his response. He basked in the moment of having Henrietta’s full attention focused on him. He tried to hide his inner turmoil between admiration and lust.

“My belief…my uncle’s belief…this is from a splinter group with an intelligent leader and code writer. The message was very difficult to decipher. I struggled but finally recognized that the code writer used Hittite.”

“Hittite? Unbelievable. How many people can write Hittite?” He tried to make sense of today’s turn of events—somehow he was on his terrace with Henrietta discussing ancient languages and assassination plots.

“You know what Hittite is?” Her pupils dilated and her mouth formed a plump “O”.

Warm arousal pulsed through his body when he looked at her alluring lips. The idea of pink moist flesh caused the blood to pump harder through his body. “The oldest known language and the basis for the current Greek language. I believe it was the Hellenization of Anatolia in 1600 BC that brought the change in language, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Amazing.” She gaped, her most alluring mouth hung open.

He wanted to laugh out loud and kiss her at the same time. He had discovered the way to win Henrietta’s heart. Not through bouquets and afternoon calls but through his knowledge of dead languages.

“Then you can appreciate the skill of this astounding code writer,” she said.

He wanted to choke the clever code writer who now had Henrietta’s eyes filled with admiration. Jealousy of an unknown enemy twisted his gut.

“Their plan is to have the Spanish look responsible for the attempt. Can you imagine our response if we believed one of the insurgent Spanish groups assassinated James Fox for his pro-France, pro-Napoleon views?” Breathless, Henrietta’s eyes shone with passion. She was in the chase and enjoying it.

He was dumbstruck. An impassioned Henrietta made his usually detached heart fill with longing, longing to be loved by this most unusual woman. His world just turned upside down and inside out.

“An English invasion would give Napoleon the perfect pretext to also move into Spain and Portugal, too,” he said.

She smiled at him as if he were a prize pupil.

“Fox must be warned. I’ll send the message immediately to the Abchurch office.”

“Thank you.” She folded the paper and paused. “This code is almost too clever. What if this is a ruse? To make us jump to the conclusions we have to distract us from something else?”

He followed her succinct logic but was struggling to overcome the hypnotic effect of lilac and amazing woman. “An interesting theory, to keep us focused on Spain and away from France.”

“Or away from the unrest surrounding our upcoming election?” Henrietta asked. “Napoleon would benefit from the political chaos in our country.”

His mind raced with the repercussions if Napoleon interfered with the election of the Tory Prime Minister? But how? Last week they had dismissed the threat against Henry Addington because of lack of evidence. But with this credible threat against a candidate for prime minister, was Napoleon attempting to interfere with the election?

It was his turn to stare at her in wonder. “You’re a remarkable woman.”

She folded the message and handed it to him without raising her eyes. “Thank you, Lord Rathbourne.”

She had resumed her formal manner. Had he embarrassed her with his admiration? Why would she be embarrassed by her obvious phenomenal talent and why did she deliver the message to Aunt Euphemia instead of asking Charles to send it directly to the intelligence office? He wanted to ask Henrietta a thousand questions, but he heard his aunt and sister approaching the terrace.

Today wasn’t the day to press his questions. Discovering the secrets of the enigmatic Lady Henrietta would be the most pleasurable aspect of his new job.

Chapter Fifteen

Henrietta arrived at the Abchurch offices in her best bonnet, adorned with a jaunty peacock feather that curved on her cheek. She wore her favorite dress and pelisse which matched the forest green in the feather. Dressed in her most ladylike outfit, she was ready to storm the male citadel. She needed the Abchurch offices to see her as Charles Harcourt’s niece—a respected lady of the ton, not as a worried spinster.

She exhaled deeply and ascended the stairs.

A footman opened the door to a cavernous room filled with rows of wood desks. Clerks dressed in dark suits that matched the mahogany paneled walls were bent over their work. The room smelled of wood, fire, and tobacco.

She made no eye contact and proceeded to the next office. “Oh, darn, darn.” It was the same blasted clerk who guarded Sir Ramston’s office at her last futile attempt.

The clerk stood from his desk and blocked access to the anteroom of Sir Ramston’s office. “May I be of assistance, my lady?”

In her most haughty voice she said, “I’ve an appointment with Sir Ramston. Please announce me—Lady Henrietta Harcourt.”

“I’m sure you’re mistaken. Sir Ramston doesn’t have any appointments with…” The older gentleman’s face colored crimson. “Aren’t you the same…person?” He said “person” with thinly disguised sneer. “You tried to see his lordship last week.”

She mentally kept herself in check. She needed to use her feminine allure, not her usual direct manner. “I’m aware that you’re charged with the grave responsibility of guarding Sir Ramston and his schedule. My uncle, Lord Charles Harcourt, had an appointment with Sir Ramston today. Due to my uncle’s illness, I’m here in his stead.”

Warring emotions played across the clerk’s mottled face. He would never want to offend Lord Harcourt or his family, but obviously he had never admitted a woman to this office.

“Please excuse me, my lady. I’ll announce you to Sir Ramston.” He rushed to a large oak door and knocked discretely before entering.

Seconds later, Sir Ramston came out to greet her. “Lady Henrietta, I hope that nothing is wrong with Charles.” Concern darkened his eyes.

“Uncle Charles has a head cold which, of course, Edward gave to him. It’s nothing serious and I’m sure Uncle Charles will be back to his old self very soon.” Lying to Sir Ramston, a trusted family friend, felt terrible. She couldn’t stop babbling. “He asked me to come. I hope this isn’t an imposition for you.”

“Of course not, my dear. Please come in and give me all the news of my friend and your brothers.”

Her confidence soared. She gracefully swept past Sir Ramston into his office.

“Please sit down. Shall we have tea?” Sir Ramston gestured to a leather settee by the fireplace. His dark hair was now streaked with silver and he moved slower than she remembered.

“Thank you, Sir Ramston.”

Seated together in front of a warm fire, Sir Ramston asked the details of Uncle Charles’ illness and Edward’s progress with his studies. Just when she thought Sir Ramston would finally ask about Michael, the tea arrived.

Sir Ramston then discussed his estate, bordering near Kendal land. When he began to describe his hounds in great detail, Henrietta became impatient. She mentally tapped her foot.

He drifted on to memories of his days at Oxford.

“Michael also attended Oxford,” she interrupted, crashing her teacup down on its saucer, most unladylike.

“Well, of course, I remember. I can assume that Edward will follow in the Kendal tradition? Does young Edward show the same capacity for linguistics?”

Was Sir Ramston purposely avoiding discussing Michael?

“Sir Ramston, I came today, I mean, Uncle Charles asked me to come today. We’re concerned about Michael. We haven’t heard from him in weeks. Please, has this office had any word of him?”

Sir Ramston cleared his throat, fingering his signet ring. “I did wonder the purpose of Charles’ visit today. He hasn’t been to the offices in at least two years.”

More like three years.

“I assume Charles told you the circumstances of Michael’s role in France, or he wouldn’t have sent you today?”

“I’m aware that Michael’s unique linguistic talents are being used in our espionage efforts.”

“I haven’t been able to keep up with Michael’s assignment in France since I’ve been spending my time more in the diplomatic channels. You might say, retired to home pastures.”

She knew better than to believe that Sir Ramston wasn’t still exerting a major influence in England’s intelligence.

“A younger man has stepped into my position. He played a central role in our dealings with Napoleon. Unfortunately, the death of his father required his return to England. No one has a more outstanding record of bravery.”

She wanted to scream in frustration but politely asked, “Sir Ramston, what does this gentleman have to do with my brother Michael?”

“I think its best, Lady Henrietta, if I summon my replacement so he may give you and Charles the reassurance you’re seeking.”

Henrietta tried to hide her rising panic at the idea of a new man in charge of her brother. Her heart thumped and her stomach churned.

Sir Ramston rose from the settee and moved to the door. “I’m sure he’ll join us if he’s available.”

Who was this esteemed gentleman and why hadn’t she heard anything about him? How could she trust an unknown man with her brother’s safety? The panic penetrated her chest then skittered along her nerves.

The door opened behind her.

“Lady Henrietta, Lord Rathbourne has just told me of your previous acquaintance.”

Lord Rathbourne, impeccably dressed in a superfine dark blue coat and a crisp white cravat, followed Sir Ramston into the office.

The air seemed to have left her lungs, as if someone had crushed her chest. She blurted, “You’re a war hero?”

Lord Rathbourne bowed. “Lady Henrietta, a pleasure. I don’t believe I’ve ever been referred to as a hero, but I did spend time in the service of His Majesty.”

“You can’t be the person in charge of my brother. Sir Ramston has always been in charge.” She tried to take a deep breath, but to no avail.

“Lady Henrietta, I can reassure you that Lord Rathbourne has an outstanding military record and truly is my replacement. I can’t think of a more highly-capable man to take my place.”

His outraged masculinity filled the office, his anger well-suppressed except for the change in his eye color. The bright blue had deepened to a steely gray. “Thank you, Sir Ramston. Perhaps we could move to the reason for your visit today, Lady Henrietta?”

“I meant no offense, sir. I just hadn’t expected…” She needed to get a hold of herself, but she struggled with this dramatic change.

“It’s clear to all present that you’ve been caught unaware. How can I be of service?” His voice was crisp, bordering close to punctilious.

He was different in this office, a commander, not the warm man she had confided in at his home. Could she turn to him for reassurance that her brother Michael was safe or share her concern that her brother might have gotten himself into a sticky situation?

She fingered her mother’s locket, trying to calm herself against breathlessness and her runaway heartbeat. She wanted to dart to the door, hoping that this was all a bad dream. Lord Rathbourne’s over-bearing presence could never be confused with a dream, more like her worst nightmare. He was too masculine, too capable, too controlling. Too everything.