A Code of Love (The Code Breakers 1) (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Henrietta secured her thick braid in a blue ribbon and left her bedchamber. She had no time to spare to get to Hyde Park. The note she’d found under her door late last night was brief but clear.

Proceed to the Serpentine at dawn with the codebook. Come alone, if you want to see your brother again.

Her palms felt cold and unpleasantly moist when she tucked the codebook in her reticule. She needed to rescue Michael.

She longed to share the note with Cord, but she couldn’t risk her brother’s safety. Cord would never allow her, a mere woman alone, to approach Hyde Park and French spies.

Working through the night, she’d created a false codebook. Her plan was simple. She would give the real codebook in exchange for Michael, but if anything had happened to Michael she would give them the counterfeit.

Her stomach plummeted with the idea of an injured Michael. Her entire body trembled with the possibility of her failure. Her riding boots clicking, she descended the marble steps.

Brompton stood at the door. “No tea or breakfast before your ride, my lady?”

“There is much to be done today. I’m already late.” She swept out the front door.

“But Lady Henrietta…”

Henrietta crossed her garden to the stable. The sun peeked through the intense cloud cover. Without sleep and tea, she was ragged, frightened but determined.

She flicked her riding crop against her sapphire blue skirt and focused on the next obstacle to her mission, how to escape Tom, the stable master. A fixture in the family since her childhood, Tom would be dogged in carrying out his duties to accompany her.

“Lady Henrietta, how is Lord Harcourt feeling this morning?”

“Better, Tom. But I’m in need of a brisk ride to clear my head after the terrible assault.” She kept her eyes downcast.

“Minotaur is always ready to run. Shall we head to Rotten Row as usual?”

She had taken over the task of exercising the stallion after Michael had left for the Continent. She believed the immense horse shared her loss after Michael’s departure.

While Tom held Minotaur in check, she mounted. “I’ll take Minotaur alone for a fast gallop and be back in time to break my fast.”

“Now, Lady Hen, that gentleman, Lord Rathbourne, was very clear. He required that you be escorted at all times. He’s a man I don’t want to cross.”

“Pshaw, Tom. Lord Rathbourne isn’t in charge. Uncle Charles is, and, since he’s indisposed, I’m in charge and I shall ride alone.”

She had spurred Minotaur to move before Tom could respond. She turned and gave Tom her most winsome smile.

She had left both Brompton and Tom flummoxed in her wake, but she hadn’t been able to keep her movements secret as the note had instructed. Cord had the entire household watching her.

She did feel bad for implicating Tom in defying Cord’s directive, but she was committed to act alone. The instructions had been very clear that she was to come alone or her brother would suffer the consequences.

The streets were already clogged with drays and wagons starting the London morning commerce. Henrietta guided Minotaur around the parked wagons, overflowing with vegetables and chickens from the countryside. Focusing on the traffic helped her settle to the next task but didn’t allay her stomach’s somersaulting and flipping in fear.

* * *

Cord, swathed in a crimson velvet robe, descended the stairs. After a long night of escorting his sister and aunt to all the ton balls and routs, he had been dragged out of his bed at dawn. Had Sloane really said it was the Harcourt’s stableman?

This new development didn’t add to his less than sparkling mood about Lady Henrietta Harcourt and her refusal to confide in him. Deep inside, what really rankled him was that she didn’t trust him to protect her or her family. He didn’t see any problem that he hadn’t confided in her about his role with her family or his relationship with Isabelle. It was his job to keep secrets.

Henrietta, Wycliffe, and De Valmont. What was their connection? Was the connection the French émigrés? The duke was under suspicion for involvement with a dissident group of French émigrés and Henrietta supported the plight of the displaced French. What part did De Valmont play?

He rubbed the fine stubble that had grown on his chin overnight. Talley would’ve sent one of his men if there was danger, not the Harcourt stableman.

Tom spoke, wool cap in his hands. “My lord, Lady Henrietta refused to allow me to accompany her to Hyde Park.”

“She did what?” Cord bellowed. “How did you give her a choice? Why didn’t you follow her?”

“She was on Lord Kendal’s stallion, the fastest horse in the stable. I’d never be able to catch her.”

“Did I not make myself clear? I gave you explicit directions to accompany Lady Henrietta whenever she rode.” Cord could barely restrain himself from grabbing the older man.

“I’ve known Lady Henrietta since she was a little girl and she can be darn mulish when she gets an idea in her head.”

Mulish wasn’t the word that came to Cord’s mind. “Does Talley know she left unaccompanied?”

“Yes, he sent me to tell you. He rode after her to Hyde Park.”

Cord let go of the breath he had been holding, knowing that Talley was protecting her.

The slow grin on Tom’s weatherworn face further enraged Rathbourne.

“The old Earl would get as mad as you are now. He would rant and bellow, but eventually he found it much easier to allow the lady to go her own way.”

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your insight.” His voice was the only calm part of him. “It’s time to find out what important errand the lady had at such an early hour.”

Cord summoned his valet, butler, and stableman with terse commands while Tom waited.

Five minutes later, he and Tom were on their way to the stable. “Did the lady give a reason for her early departure?” Cord asked.

“She didn’t. She just told Brompton she was going to be late.”

Why did Cord feel as if he was missing something? Why would she put herself in danger? He didn’t believe for a minute that Henrietta was a spy involved with French subversives but it was possible that Wycliffe or De Valmont had threatened her. Or they were blackmailing her? All the muscles in his body tightened with the idea of Wycliffe hurting Henrietta.

He blew air out of his mouth. He didn’t want Tom to hear the expletives he was muttering under his breath.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Minotaur strained at his bit, impatient and irritable, picking up on her frantic mood. It took all of Henrietta’s skill to guide him out of the congestion and finally break free, heading toward Hyde Park. They left the Curzon Gate and galloped toward the Serpentine, the site of her dramatic rescue by Cord.

She spurred her horse on, not willing to think of Cord or his reaction to the clandestine meeting. She gave Minotaur his head, allowing him to move quickly through the open green before reaching the lake. On sunny days, the lake’s water was a crystalline blue. This morning, reflecting the heavy dark skies, the lake was the color of pewter and a portent of doom.

Approaching the water, Henrietta slowed Minotaur to a walk. In the shadows of the trees, she glimpsed the movement of a dark silhouette.

Mounted on a diminutive mare, a woman dressed in black with a feathered hat tipped at a jaunty angle emerged from the trees. Could this be her contact? Black netting hid her face, but it didn’t hide the impressively revealing décolletage of Isabelle Villier.

As if coming for a tête-à-tête, Cord’s mistress rode slowly out toward Henrietta. Isabelle Villier was a French spy? It was rumored that her parents had met their fate under the guillotine and her loyalties were now with the English.

“Lady Henrietta, I’m pleased you’ve followed my instructions. Did you bring the item?”

Henrietta nudged her giant stallion closer. “What possible use could you have for the item?”

“As predictable as your brother.”

At the mention of Michael, Henrietta tightened Minotaur’s reins ever so slightly. The horse began to back up. “Where is my brother?”

Isabelle edged her horse forward. “Like you, he rushed into peril, heedless of the consequences. Cordelier told me he wasn’t an agent, but a scholar.”

Minotaur, increasingly tense with Henrietta’s nervousness, froze when the mare approached. With his ears plastered against his head, he bared his mammoth white teeth and tried to bite the mare.

“Cord told you about my brother?”

“He is ‘Cord’ to you?” Isabelle’s tone had shifted to mocking.

“What does Cord have to do with this?” Henrietta feigned a sense of calmness while she tried to deduct why Isabelle mentioned Cord. Did she know he was the head of Abchurch? Oblivious to the horse’s flattened ears, Henrietta instinctively tightened his reins.

“Cord didn’t tell you?” A faint smirk crossed Isabelle’s lips.

“Tell me what?” Henrietta held firmly to the reins while peering down upon the French woman on her small horse.

“Cord and I work together for the intelligence office.”

“You work as his mistress.” Henrietta used her most haughty voice. She didn’t want Isabelle to suspect that she didn’t know anything about the inner workings of the Abchurch offices.

“How long do you think you will keep Cordelier in your bed?”

What was the woman talking about? Isabelle was trying to distract her by pretending the role of a jealous lover, but for what purpose?

“You think you are so clever, so smug. Let me warn you. You’re not the type for these dangerous games. You need to find yourself a nice vicar.”

“You have no idea what my capabilities are.”

A faint smile crossed Isabelle’s lips. “Mademoiselle is fiery like her hair. I can see why Cordelier is drawn to you.”

“For the last time, where is my brother?” Henrietta tried not to sound desperate but her throat constricted around the words. Her heart skipped and fluttered frantically against her chest.

Isabelle muttered under her breath in French, something about the English being
ridicule
. “Your brother has put you and your uncle in a very dangerous position.”

Henrietta drew in the reins, starting Minotaur on a side step. “I’ll not give you the book until I see Michael.”

“Your brother made a deadly mistake by putting your family between Talleyrand and Fouché.” Isabelle’s eyes darted toward the woods behind Henrietta.

Henrietta followed Isabelle’s gaze. She saw nothing in the woods behind them.

“
Mon Dieu
,” Isabelle snarled.

Turning back toward Isabelle, Henrietta looked into the barrel of Isabelle’s pocket pistol. She swung her riding crop at Isabelle’s hand.

“You idiot,” Isabelle shrieked.

With the impact of her riding crop, the quicksilver trigger of the gun released. The ball flew past Henrietta’s right shoulder. At the same time, Minotaur lurched forward with the sound of the loud blast.

Unbalanced from hitting Isabelle’s gun, she couldn’t regain her seat when the panicked Minotaur took off. With one final effort, she pitched forward, trying in vain to grab the horse’s mane. She hung suspended for a few seconds before she was thrown through the air.

* * *

Cord couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding as he rode toward Hyde Park. Harcourt’s stableman rode next to him exuding a quiet confidence that this was another misadventure by his mistress. But Cord’s uneasiness grew. There was something entirely wrong with Henrietta’s early morning ride.

The people who worked with him on the Continent had developed great respect for his instincts. He tried to convince himself that it was the lack of sleep that caused the anxiety growing in his gut.

Talley waited for them at the Curzon Gate. Cord had the highest regard for the young man he had assigned to guard the Harcourts.

“Tom was able to rouse you for the lady’s morning tête-à-tête?” The bulky man didn’t try very hard to hide his amusement.

“I’m glad you find this morning’s adventure entertaining. This isn’t a time for jokes. Where is she?”

“She rode to the Serpentine on that massive black stallion she treats like a kitten. I followed her there and then doubled back to direct you to her location. I didn’t see the man she was in such a rush to meet.” The giant of a man raised his eyebrows in question.

Cord didn’t want to consider Talley’s conclusions about Henrietta’s early morning meeting. But, if she was meeting a lover for an affair of the heart, he would…

“Lead us to the willful lady.” His voice echoed his determination to censure the lady whatever her activity.

He heard Tom snort when they galloped to the Serpentine.

Cord was anticipating giving Henrietta a dressing down about this morning’s excursion. He liked challenging the lady, watching her fine green eyes get fiery with the provocation. He thought of what other ways he would like to provoke her into submission. Blood pulsed through his body and pooled in uncomfortable places. This wasn’t the time to consider the pleasurable ways of igniting Henrietta’s fire.