A Code of Love (The Code Breakers 1) (24 page)

He needed to go to Kendal House to examine Harcourt’s papers and to have a very pointed discussion with Henrietta’s uncle. Why had Lord Harcourt allowed his niece’s participation in dangerous work? He and Harcourt were going to come to an agreement on curbing her involvement in intelligence work. She wasn’t going to be pleased, but the lady’s days of early morning trysts were over.

Cord went to his room to shed his muddied riding clothes. His aunt and Gwyneth could see to Henrietta while he was at Kendal House.

And hopefully Talley would soon have answers on the identity of the person that Henrietta met alone in the Serpentine. When he found the man who shot at Henrietta, he would make sure he was punished.

* * *

Henrietta listened to the voices outside the door. She didn’t have a clear memory of events after she fell off Minotaur, but rather a recollection of sensations. The smell of leather mixed with Cord’s lime and starch scent, the comfort of his arms wrapped around her and a sense of safety.

She snuggled down in the warmth of the heavy bedclothes. It’d be easy to stay under the covers and rest. She heard the deep rumble of Cord’s voice causing heat to dance along her skin and her stomach to flutter in recognition. She lay still, trying to hear. The maid hovered nearby, straightening the covers at her feet.

She hoped Cord wouldn’t try to talk with her now. She wasn’t up for his questioning and was confused about his role. She wanted to trust him, but why would he have sent his mistress to obtain the codebook? Why had Isabelle aimed the pistol at her? Was she attempting to frighten or threaten her?

The medication must have been taking effect, because she was finding it difficult to concentrate. She needed to stay awake. The real and the fake codebooks were in her reticule. She needed to find the books and hide them. Whom should she trust? She would figure it out tomorrow when she felt better, but for now she wasn’t going to trust anyone—not as long as Michael remained in danger.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mrs. Brompton’s revelations concerning Henrietta had driven Cord to his club for a drink. The first drink hadn’t helped, nor the second or third. In fact, the alcohol had heightened his agitated state. Until meeting Henrietta Harcourt, he had always kept his feelings tightly in place. Now, he seemed to regularly be in the throes of extreme reactions. Such volatility was unheard of in a man who had gained his reputation for cold, composed control.

Cord inhaled deeply when he stepped out of his club. The night air was damp but fresh from the recent rain. The brisk walk home didn’t alter his antagonistic mood. Henrietta had more twists than a Gordian knot and he planned to straighten every coil and convolution of the inscrutable woman.

Awaiting, Sloane opened the door. “Good evening, my lord.”

He took the steps two at a time.

“Your aunt has asked if you would join her in the drawing room,” the butler said.

“Aunt Euphemia is still awake?” This was exactly what he needed—a clear, logical discussion to restore his balance.

“Shall I bring brandy?”

“I seem to have missed dinner tonight. Can you remedy it?”

The revelations at Kendal House had left him completely distracted. He had spent the entire afternoon and part of the evening there. He couldn’t recall eating anything since dinner last night.

During afternoon tea with Charles Harcourt, he’d been in shock. Later, when Mrs. Brompton had brought him supper, he’d been too focused on searching the study to even notice if he had consumed anything.

He was hungry, but his real hunger was for a battle with the woman who lay asleep upstairs. She had pushed him over the edge, the edge of restraint. Every muscle in his body clenched in aggravation and fear. Henrietta was up to her pretty little neck in code breaking.

And, as if that were not enough, he was now certain that she had the missing codebook. But, even as he seethed with feelings of frustration and betrayal, the thought of her lying injured aroused his most tender feelings.

He climbed the steps to his aunt’s drawing room. “Aunt Euphemia. I’m glad to find you awake.”

His aunt was decked out in an orange, toga-like gown with a matching turban with bright fuchsia feathers. “Gwyneth and I just returned from Lady Mandrake’s ball. A dull enterprise, but your sister is making quite a splash in society.”

“I apologize for not joining you. Did you receive the message that I was otherwise engaged?”

“Yes, Ash brought the message with alacrity and then deemed it necessary to dance with Gwyneth twice, all the while glaring at the young gentlemen who hovered around her. Quite entertaining.”

His aunt implied that Ash was interested in Gwyneth. He’d needed to speak to Ash. Gwyneth was too young for his friend’s kind of romantic intrigue.

“How is Hen…?” He stopped himself. “How is Lady Henrietta?”

“She has slept most of the day and the entire evening. The nurse has been with her. I’ve checked on her periodically, but she’s been sleeping constantly.”

It was futile to pretend mild interest under his aunt’s scrutiny. “Has she had a lot of pain? Dr. Simons believed the bruised ribs would be very uncomfortable.”

“The nurse has followed the doctor’s instructions, dosing Henrietta regularly with the drops to keep her comfortable. I’m sure the laudanum is part of the reason she’s still sleeping, but the poor child must be exhausted. It was only two days ago that her uncle was assaulted. And now she was shot at.”
La Bataille
already knew that Henrietta’s fall wasn’t an accident.

“Have you been at your office all this time?” She asked.

“I was at Kendal House.”

“How is Charles feeling today?”

“Still weakened, but mending slowly. I had afternoon tea with him.”

His aunt slowly scrutinized his face. “You know about Charles Harcourt’s state of mind?”

He remembered Henrietta’s visit to his aunt with the deciphered communication. “When did you discover the changes in Charles Harcourt?”

“I visited Charles last week. It’s a terrible loss.” His aunt’s energetic tone became subdued, her devilish sparkle vanished.

He hadn’t considered that his aunt would be upset by the change in her friend. “I’m sorry.”

“On making Henrietta’s acquaintance at Lady Chadwick’s soiree, I realized that I hadn’t seen Charles in society. It wasn’t that unusual since he always had been an intrepid scholar, choosing his work over the ton’s entertainment, but my curiosity was aroused. Recognizing the connection between you and Henrietta, I was motivated to renew our friendship.”

He chose to avoid comment about his connection with Henrietta.

“I didn’t see any harm in letting the charade continue. Henrietta has been protecting her uncle for some time.”

“No harm?” His voice went up a notch.

His aunt stared at some distant point in the room. “It must be heart-wrenching for Henrietta to watch her uncle decline, his brilliant mind deteriorating.”

“But what possessed her to take over his job? You do realize the repercussions if her role were to be discovered? She’s a woman.”

“You’ve just come to the realization that she’s a woman?” He was glad to see his aunt’s somber mood improve but not at his expense.

He was very aware of Henrietta as a woman. He didn’t seem to be able to forget her soft, womanly curves for a single moment.

“She isn’t just a woman. She’s an admirable woman, an English subject we should embrace. She has put her reputation in jeopardy to protect her uncle and continue to serve our country. After the loss of her mother, she ran the household and protected her uncle and her brothers, all the while continuing to work as a code breaker.” His aunt’s tone wasn’t exactly strident, but it was clear she took issue with his hostile response.

He heard his aunt take a deep breath to continue when Sloane arrived with a footman carrying a silver tray laden with food and a bottle of brandy.

“Thank you, Sloane,” he said.

Aunt Euphemia poured the brandy while he piled his plate with beef, cheese, and a crusty piece of bread. He slowed to arrange his plate, giving himself time to think. Aunt Euphemia wasn’t one to give lectures, and her strong reaction gave him pause.

He hadn’t seen Henrietta in the light of what her life had been. He could only think of the danger she risked by taking over her uncle’s role. She would garner no sympathy from the French or Spanish if her identity were detected.

And unlike Aunt Euphemia, who held her in esteem, English society would also condemn her. Both men and women alike would see her as odd. He could protect her from the dangers of kidnapping or torture, but he couldn’t stop the old biddies from tearing her reputation to shreds. He hadn’t created the social strictures, but Henrietta was breaking all the rules of acceptable behavior.

His aunt leaned back against the pillow, her leg crossed over her knee. By her posture, she didn’t hold to the rules of society. “You and she are very much alike, both responsible from a very young age.”

His parents, too overwhelmed with the loss of Gray, forgot they had another son and a daughter. Their roles became reversed, with him trying to shelter his parents and take care of Gwyneth.

“You’ve both sacrificed your happiness for the benefit of family and country.” His aunt stared down at her brandy.

Overcome with his own guilt at Grey’s death, he had tried to make it better, mend his parents’ broken hearts. When he couldn’t fix the problem, he became lost. As any young man, he had acted out his helplessness with excessive living until his aunt and Sir Ramston had intervened.

He’d already spent too much time today dwelling on the past. He turned to his aunt. “I’ve received news today that Giscard Orly, Fouché’s henchman, has arrived in England and is headed to London.”

“I wonder what Fouché is up to?” His aunt leaned forward, her rheumy eyes sharpening.

“I’m wondering the same thing. The ongoing competition between Fouché and Talleyrand for Napoleon’s attention might be related to the other message received from France today.”

“We might be able to use their dog fight to our advantage.” Aunt Euphemia was already calculating their next move. “What was the other message?”

“Our man heard shouting between Talleyrand and Le Chiffre,” he said.

Aunt Euphemia slapped her bent knee. “I’d like to have been a mouse in the corner to witness Talleyrand and Le Chiffre, the epitome of savoir-faire, yelling at each other like fishwives.”

He too would’ve liked to see the two formidable men caterwauling. “They argued about Le Chiffre misplacing the codebook.”

She raised her eyebrows and waited.

“There may be a connection between the missing codebook and the arrival of Giscard Orly. Fouché wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity of Le Chiffre’s bungle to paint his arch enemy Talleyrand as an incompetent.”

His aunt beamed at him, appreciating his deduction. “But why send Giscard Orly? His skill as an assassin won’t be helpful in recovering a stolen book.” She paused, rubbed her forehead back and forth until she had knocked her turban askew. “Unless you don’t care how you recover the book—Fouché’s usual violent solution.”

He sighed, relieved that his aunt’s concise conclusions were the same as his. It felt good to be able to process information with a rational and logical person, free of volatile emotions.

“Fouché has changed the game by sending an assassin.” Aunt Euphemia sat up. “This means Henrietta is in incredible danger. We must keep her here.”

He was grateful someone other than him understood the danger to the Harcourts.

“Henrietta asked Doctor Simons to be moved to Kendal house right after the accident. I don’t think I can keep her here unless I bring her uncle and her brother.” He didn’t want to expose his raw feelings of vulnerability over Henrietta’s safety. He needed to act as a Head.

“It wouldn’t be a good idea to move Charles to Rathbourne House with his recent injury.”

Henrietta would refuse to stay at Rathbourne House while her uncle was at Kendal house. He didn’t want to let her leave his house, but he couldn’t hold her prisoner, although the idea had passed through his mind. He’d have to put more men at Kendal House once she returned there.

“Henrietta has the book?”

“I believe her brother sent her the book. Her uncle was assaulted when the men went to Kendal House to search for the book. When they didn’t obtain it, they sent Henrietta a message to bring the book to the Serpentine.” He reported his conclusions to his aunt, squashing his feelings of hurt and betrayal.

“But why did Kendal take the book? And where is he now?” she asked.

“I don’t have any definite answers. I’ve considered the possibility that Kendal stole the book for money, but I’ve gone through the Harcourt’s accounts and there is nothing leading me to believe they’re in need of money.”

“Their mother was French?” The traitorous implications were clear in his aunt’s question.

Cord would be remiss in his job if he didn’t consider the Harcourt’s allegiance. “I see no benefit for the French to steal their own codebook. Unless Fouché had Kendal steal the book to embarrass Talleyrand? But what leverage would Fouché have over Kendal?”