Season For Desire (22 page)

Her maid and Jory had taken payment to help with Llewellyn’s crime. This spoke to their character; it was their choice and their fault.

But it did not speak well for the household that two of the servants had been so readily bought. When this mad assortment of callers had departed, she would ask her mother who looked after the treatment of the servants, and how long it had been since the servants received a pay raise.

“What should we do with Llewellyn, then?” The earl’s question, miracle of miracles, was directed at Audrina as well as the duke.

“Invite him to the wedding, perhaps?” The duke gave his walking stick a neat spin about his hand.

Audrina considered this startling idea. “His attendance would indicate that our family was on proper and correct terms with him. That might be an effective way to keep his repulsive schemes a secret.”

“Indeed, Lady Audrina,” the duke agreed. “And I do not think it a bad thing for him to be reminded of the massed power of your family associations. London society is a closely knit world, and I should be distressed to learn that he chose to prey upon the reputation of another female. Perhaps after the wedding he would care to visit the Continent for an extended time.”

“I am
right here
,” insisted Llewellyn with commendable poise. “And I ought to be consulted in—”

“No, you ought to be jailed.”
Thump
went the walking stick onto the carpet again
.
“Consider yourself fortunate if you are not. Now if you will all excuse me, I have a great many details to attend to. I shall see you at the wedding tomorrow.”

Audrina curtsied as the duke made her a bow of farewell. “Your Grace, I count myself fortunate to have such a brother-in-law as you.”

“Walpole,” he reminded her with a hint of a smile. When he reached the doorway, he snapped his fingers. “There is one small detail—or rather two—that I neglected to mention. Our fascinating chat about the Continent reminded me.”

Llewellyn made a rather interesting sound of strangulation.

“Alleyneham,” continued the duke, “I arranged some weeks ago for your fourth daughter to attend the wedding as well. I do hope she will arrive today. Please give her my fondest regards. You see, all of Lady Charissa’s relatives are welcome at the occasion of our marriage. They may choose to come or to stay away, but none shall I revise out of her story.”

And with a final flourish of his cane, he was gone.

Easing herself back into her chair, Audrina released a deep breath. “Well.”

“Good Lord,” added her father.

There really didn’t seem to be anything more to say than that. Except: “Nicely done, Charissa,” she murmured. She had underestimated the duke. She should have credited her sister’s undeniably generous heart with more sense.

Llewellyn bounced up from the wooden bench on which he’d crumpled. “I’ll just be going, then, shall I, and . . .”

“Get my garter,” said Audrina. “Go get it from Jory and bring it to me.
Now.
”

He was gone so quickly, he did not even close the door behind him.

There was no question in her mind that he would obey. On her own, her wishes had been easy for him to dismiss, but she was not on her own anymore. She had a family. Still. Somehow.

Gratitude, golden as a puzzle box, welled up within her.

“I am sorry you have been through so much trouble, Papa.”

“You have been troublesome, I’ll not deny it. But now that all’s done, I’m not sorry myself.”

A wry smile curved her lips. She had not meant to apologize for her own actions, yet he had heard her express fault. Oh, her stern father; he was entrenched in his own rarefied world.

“I want my daughters to have good lives.” His words were halting.

“I know, Papa.” Indeed she knew. This meant
I want you all to have lives that reflect well on me and your mother
. What parent would not? His limitation was in the fact that he was not able to see beyond this. To imagine that a good life might be . . . different.

Ah, that golden gratitude. It was beautiful, but it was not complete. There was a piece missing precisely the size and shape of Giles Rutherford.

A heap of coals tumbled in the fireplace.

“I have some letters to send, Papa.” Audrina stacked up the notes she had penned earlier. “Would you give them a frank?”

“Hmm? Oh—yes. Certainly. Have them put on my study desk.” The earl looked like a tired old lion, hands steepled and head bowed.

A knock sounded at the front door, a story below the front-facing parlor. “The duke again?”
Giles?

When the door opened, a murmur of voices succeeded—and then Lady Alleyneham’s cry of delight, so loud it traveled up the stairs. “Petra! Oh, my dear! My darling Petra!” And then a long silence, followed by: “You have brought . . . a baby?”

Audrina and her father locked shocked gazes. “Two details.” Her voice was a croak. “Two details the duke neglected to mention.”

The Rutherfords swooped up Lady Irving before driving to Hanover Square to call on her niece, Lady Xavier. Both the countess and Giles’s father were convinced that the young noblewoman would be able to decipher the coded letters of the puzzle boxes.

For Giles, this visit was more a matter of doggedness than actual interest. The savor of the outing had been lost when Lady Irving informed him that Audrina would not join them, as she had “already gone home to knock a few heads together.”

He supposed this was a good thing. Certainly it sounded like a brave action. But he would have rather seen her than not, to put the matter mildly.

Once within Xavier House, their hostess greeted the trio warmly. “Aunt Estella, I hope you had a happy Christmas. What a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rutherford. Mr. Giles Rutherford.” Lady Xavier was a tall woman—perhaps as tall as Audrina—clad in blue, with dark hair and eyes of a deep brown.

She looked the proper young matron, but the room in which they met her was more unusual. Over the past two months, Giles had been within numerous aristocratic town houses and country estates. Never had he seen a space quite so lived-in as the drawing room of Xavier House. Not that it was ill-kept in the slightest; its walls were covered in heavy textured paper in warm golden shades, and a thick-piled antique carpet stretched almost to the edges of the room.

But then there were the books. Books piled on every table. Books balanced atop an embroidered cushion on the sofa. There was even one tucked under Lady Xavier’s arm as she made her curtsy of greeting. Each and every one of these books was bristling with tiny slips of paper.

“I mark the place,” explained Lady Xavier. “When I find something interesting, or when I leave off reading aloud to the earl, and then again when I leave off reading on my own.”

The earl entered the room then, a dark bespectacled man with a blanketed bundle in his arms and a harassed expression on his face. “Oh, hullo, Lady Irving. And I suppose these are the Rutherfords? Good to meet you all. Louisa, his young lordship is finally asleep, but if I put him down, he’ll wake up and scream until the house falls down.”

“Babies.” Lady Irving rolled her eyes. “Dreadful creatures. Always needing something.” Giles noticed she was reaching for the tiny bundle even before she had finished speaking.

As soon as the lightly snoring infant was taken from him, Lord Xavier yanked the spectacles from his face and stuffed them into his waistcoat pocket. “So. Lady Irving said you had a puzzle for Lady Xavier to consider?”

“A delightful one,” confirmed Richard. “Three coded messages that might—no, must—surely be related to one another. They were found inside three puzzle boxes. I have the third here.” He produced the
ruiji
box that had until recently been Kitty Balthasar’s, and Giles handed over his copy of the text found within the first two puzzle boxes.

Lady Xavier’s brows knit as she skimmed Giles’s paper, then turned the small
ruiji
box over in one hand.

“Let’s all have a seat,” suggested the earl. “Except for you, Lady Irving. If you let that baby wake up, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“He wouldn’t dare wake up while I’m holding him,” crooned the countess, nestling the baby at her shoulder. This was probably correct. If an annoyed Lady Irving awaited him when he woke up, Giles would keep his eyes shut tight indefinitely.

With a distracted smile, Lady Xavier settled herself at a writing desk and spread the papers before her. “Mr. Rutherford, will you open this box?” Richard darted over and slid the panels of the
ruiji
box, first locating the hidden key and then unlocking the box. Lord Xavier brought over an extra lamp to brighten the desk, and the young noblewoman began her study of the three sets of code.

The succeeding silence drew out thin and long as a wire. Richard cleared his throat. From his seat in a tapestry-covered armchair, Giles extended one restless leg, then the other.

“I’ll require more than two minutes,” said Lady Xavier without looking away from the papers. “Perhaps you would all like a drink while you wait?”

“God, yes,” said Lady Irving.

Lord Xavier stood and moved to a sideboard topped by a cut-crystal decanter and glasses—along with a pile of books. “If you get drunk and drop the baby, I shall be very displeased.”

“Aunt Estella hasn’t dropped a baby in years, Alex.” Lady Xavier again. “It will be all right.”

Her husband declined to reply. Holding the decanter at arm’s length, he squinted and poured a generous inch into four tumblers. “So, Rutherford. You are a jeweler?”

“I will be soon.” With thanks, Richard accepted the brandy.

“And you, Mr. Giles Rutherford? How do you occupy your time?”

Giles took a glass from the earl. “I am an architect.” The word sounded good in his mouth, and he echoed Richard’s reply. “At least, I will be soon.”

“Do you work with buildings that are getting all ragged and starting to fall down, or do you only draw up new ones?”

“I have been trained in both types of work.”

“Ah, that’s convenient.” Lord Xavier held up a tumbler of brandy for Lady Irving, then with a warning look, set it beside her on a table. “Don’t get drunk and drop the baby.
Please.
” Turning back to Giles, he added, “I ask because one of my stables in Surrey was partially destroyed in a storm, and I’m looking for a good man to rebuild it. It’s not a large commission, but it’s yours if you’re interested.”

His first commission, just like that. Good Lord. It was frightening and exhilarating at once, like stepping off a cliff and finding out that it was not a plummet, but a great smooth glide. “I thank you, my lord. Though I should note, I’ve done no practical design and building since leaving university. You might wish to consult someone with more recent experience.”

“I’m not worried. I know you’ll do well because Lady Irving is looking as though she will have you eaten by tigers if you do not. I cannot offer more incentive for success than that.” Their host swirled his brandy, then tossed it back. “I know it’s only just noon, but I’ve been awake for so long that it feels like evening. Our young rogue seems still to be nocturnal.”

Giles took a sip of brandy, strong and sweet and smooth. The heat that spread through him was more than just that single sip, though: It was the sudden promise of a future. A future he could build one job, one building, one brick and stone at a time.

With a future in England, he might be able to stay. One job, one brick and stone at a time, he might be able to earn a place near Audrina. He could never be a part of her lofty society world, but he could be near her.

Near was good. Near was much better than being separated by the Atlantic.

While Giles tumbled into this fit of fantasy—a fantasy constructed as much of curling black hair and wicked hands as it was of building—the conversation had meandered on.

“Lady Irving is thinking about marrying me.” Richard’s feet jiggled.
An adventure!

Lord Xavier fell into a chair. “Oh? And what are you thinking?”

“I’ve been asking him the same thing,” said Giles.

“Out of curiosity, of course.” The earl smiled. “Not disbelief.”

“Er . . . right. That’s what I meant, too.”

“Hmph.” Lady Irving sidled closer to her brandy.

“That wasn’t at all a bad idea about feeding you both to tigers, Xavier.”

“Tut, tut.” Xavier stretched out his legs with utter calm. “Not your nephew-in-law and your possible future stepson. What a family scandal that would cause.”

Lady Xavier spoke up, squinting into the comparative dark away from the lamp. “Mr. Rutherford, is this the way all three puzzle boxes appeared? With the names, and then a quotation, and then these letters?”

Richard perked up. “Yes, exactly like that.”

“I made as exact a copy as I could,” Giles added.

“Good, thank you. It must be significant that there is a trio. If I try . . . no, then it would start with KYT.” With a scratch of her quill on a sheet of foolscap, she went back to her notes. “JXS? IWR?”

“That last one at least sounds like English,” Giles said.

“Yes,” muttered Lady Xavier. “I . . . W . . . R . . . then would come another I . . . T . . . E. Oh, my Lord—I believe that’s it. Yes!” When she looked up at them, her pale face beamed with animation. “It’s a Caesar cipher.”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Lady Irving.

“As far as I’m concerned, Caesar is merely a stone head for Richard to plunk a wreath onto.”

Richard managed to laugh and shush her at the same time. Quite a talent, that.

“I don’t know what
that
means,” Lord Xavier replied, and this time his wife waved him off with a grin.

“This message uses a substitution cipher,” she explained. “It’s called a Caesar cipher because Caesar is thought to have used it. It’s not difficult to solve because it always uses the same letter in place of a coded letter. For example, if I wanted to say
genius
—just a word that comes to mind—then I would encode the message by shifting each letter back or forward some number.
G
would become
F
or
H
, and it would always be represented by that same letter. Caesar liked to shift three places—and so, it seems, did your late wife, Mr. Rutherford.”

“Three places, three boxes.” Richard’s voice held awe.

“Shockingly simple, yes.” The roll of Lady Irving’s eyes was visible from across the room. “I feel a complete idiot for not thinking it out myself. No credit for you, Louisa my girl.” Her tone was filled with pride.

“The clever thing Lady Beatrix did,” added the young noblewoman, “was to encode the message across the three boxes, so it can’t be solved without having all of them. Do you see? She put the first letter in the message of Box One, the second letter at the beginning of the message of Box Two, and so on. So on its own, each message is gibberish. But if you integrate them . . .”

The men sprang from their seats to surround the desk at which she scribbled a quick line of figures. Lady Irving, still holding the sleeping young lordling, glided over to join them after swallowing a quick gulp of brandy.

Giles read the familiar lines of nonsense:

Below these, Lady Xavier spaced a message with the letters integrated as she’d described.

“That’s a beautiful message,” Lady Irving said drily. “So poetic, I could cry. All those
Z
’s! They put me in mind of my childhood journey to Italy.”

Amused, Giles shot her a sidelong glance. For a someday-stepmother, she might . . . not be terrible.

“You are a bottomless fount of entertainment, Lady Irving,” said Lord Xavier.

“You rogue. You’ve no idea about the state of my bottom.”

“If anyone is interested in the actual message, I can work that out.” Lady Xavier wiped her quill. “If you’d all rather talk about Aunt Estella’s bottomless fount instead, I shall need a brandy before this conversation goes any further.”

“Vulgar.” Lady Irving, of course.

Her niece murmured something that sounded like “I learned from the best” as she returned her attention to the paper.

Giles craned his neck to look over her shoulder as she wrote, but her shoulders—and the shoulders of the crowded-in Richard and Lady Irving—blocked the way. Several frustrating minutes followed; minutes in which the future seemed just out of reach, and the past seemed too far away. Thirty-five years ago, his mother had pieced out a message among three girls in northern England. A message Giles had not believed in, even with the evidence of Lady Beatrix’s own final words.

Now that he knew it was real, it was like hearing her say hello again when he had almost forgotten her voice.

Another reason to be glad he had embarked upon this journey. And by now, there were reasons upon reasons, stacked like beautiful piers.

Lady Xavier slashed her pen between letters, dividing them into words; then she sat back. “I think that’s done it. Does it make sense to any of you?”

“Canny Beatrix. Very canny,” said Richard after reading the message. “She was so sorry that our marriage displeased her family. She must have guessed I would not return to England simply to make peace with them, but she knew I couldn’t resist a treasure hunt.”

“An adventure.” Giles shook his head, an unwilling smile curving his lips. “
Two
adventures. As though saying it once wouldn’t have been enough.”

“Two adventures are far better than one,” Richard replied.

Come to know one another and love each other
, Lady Beatrix had asked. The Newcombes had given them houseroom as they plodded from one estate to another, but it was more a matter of duty than fondness. How could they be fond, though? They were nothing but strangers who happened to be bound by blood.