The Casanova Code (28 page)

The shared laughter felt good and helped the dismal world to right itself. Edwina wiped the tears from her eyes. Her mother frowned briefly, then moistened a handkerchief with her tongue and dotted Edwina’s cheeks. “You’ve left some black streaks here.”

“Don’t tell Father that it’s Ashton,” Edwina said. “Let me talk to him first.” She stood and paced about the room. Isabella attempted to snag her hems while following behind. “I’ll have to find him, of course. I’ve been watching the usual places about London that I used to spot him, but he’s not been seen. Even Sarah says he never collected the responses to his personal ad. The only clue was in his letters, and now they’re useless.”

“I believe it’s time I pay a call on Mr. Trewelyn’s stepmother,” her mother said. “She might be able to shed some light on his whereabouts.”

Edwina clasped her hands, sincerely doubting Ashton’s stepmother would be of valuable assistance. However, her mother wasn’t aware of Mrs. Trewelyn’s devious nature, and Edwina wasn’t in a mood to explain it all. “Thank you, Mother,” she said perhaps with less enthusiasm than expected. “That would be most helpful.”

Her mother’s eyes turned sad. “This isn’t a game, Edwina. Even if we find him, what if he refuses to marry you? It’s not as if his reputation hasn’t already sustained this sort of scandal. What will you do?”

Edwina returned to the bed. “As I said before, I’ll go away. I know now that I’m better alone than with Walter. I’ll find employment somewhere much as Sarah has. Whatever happens, I’ll manage.”

“I have a cousin in Yorkshire,” her mother said. “I’ll write to her and see if you can stay there for the next nine months. I’ll make certain you get a small allowance to help you get by.”

“And after?” Edwina asked.

“Let’s get through the next nine months.” Her mother sighed. “Then we’ll concern ourselves with after.” She gazed at her daughter in pity. “I know you disagree, but I can’t help but believe your refusal of Walter is a sad mistake. You’ll be in the world all alone.”

Edwina patted her stomach. “Not entirely alone.”

• • •

A
WEEK
LATER
, E
DWINA
SHOPPED
FOR
LUGGAGE
AT
L
E
Bon Marche, the largest and fanciest department store in London. These purchases would be the last she’d make in the city, she imagined, as her mother was determined to send her to Yorkshire before her appearance was altered in the slightest manner. Her mother cautioned her to wear a sullen expression as though her life had recently been destroyed and to keep a handkerchief in her hand at all times.

The search for Ashton hadn’t proved successful. His stepmother was not forthcoming with an address or location. Her mother said she sidestepped every inquiry with the grace of one of those ballet dancers, as if she purposively conspired to keep her stepson’s location a secret.

It was difficult to remember to look sullen when she believed she’d avoided a fate worse than death. While her dreams had carried her to climb the pyramids of Egypt, visit the ancient temples in Persia, and dig for buried treasure in the Caribbean, she was currently content to travel to the tiny village in Yorkshire. She’d miss her friends, of course. Sarah was still angry with her for refusing Walter. She said Edwina had no idea of the monumental task she was taking on alone, which might be true. At least she would be taking it on as her true self and not some hollowed-out shell of a wife married out of necessity and not desire. Faith and Claire were supportive of her decision and promised to write as long as Edwina didn’t respond in code.

So now she shopped for the sorts of necessities she’d need in this next phase of her life. The wonderful thing about London was that this new concept in shopping, a department store, had taken root right smack in the middle of the city. So many wonders under one roof! She looked at everything from baby clothes to kitchen equipment, but could only purchase the absolute necessities on the limited budget she’d created for herself. She was looking at infant gowns when she heard familiar contagious laughter in the next aisle. She hurried around the corner to discover Matthew. Unfortunately, the large man by his side was not Ashton.

“Miss Hargrove!” Matthew exclaimed. “Come see. They have boats here. Not as big as my boat. These are my size.”

“Miss Hargrove?” the older, dignified man asked. “Miss Edwina Hargrove?”

“Yes.” Edwina stared. She knew his eyes, the shape of his nose, but his face was fuller, and older and . . .

“I’m Matthew’s father,” he said. “I believe you know my other son . . . Ashton?”

Of course!
It made sense. She could not contain her smile, no matter what advice her mother had given. “You’re Ashton’s father.”

“We’re shopping for fishing poles,” Matthew said, clasping hold of his father’s hand. “My father is going to teach me how to bait a hook.” Two awe-filled eyes gazed up at his father. “Right, sir?”

He stooped to be at the child’s level. “But these are toy boats, not fishing poles.” He poked the young lad’s belly with affection, eliciting a giggle. “Go see if you can find the fishing poles while I speak with Miss Hargrove.” The boy nodded and took off on an adventure. The senior Trewelyn rose slowly to his feet. “I understand congratulations are in order. My son told me that you were to be married shortly.” He glanced at her finger. “Or has that event already occurred?”

“Due to unforeseen events, that wedding is not likely to occur,” Edwina said without a trace of sorrow. “Mr. Thomas and I have parted ways.”

His face brightened, though it appeared he was hesitant to show it. His gaze drifted to her hand. “And may I inform my son of your altered condition?” he asked.

“Oh!” She realized he had noted the infant’s gown. “This is for my cousin, not necessarily for me.”

Perhaps it was the similarities between Ashton and his father that made the senior Trewelyn charm her so. She had always thought she would dislike him, given Ashton’s stories of his neglect. But the coded letter from the mysterious “S” had suggested the man had a softer, more thoughtful side, and Edwina could see the evidence of that in the man’s eyes. “I would be forever grateful if you would inform him of my canceled engagement. Could you tell him as well that his previous attempts at communication were intercepted and destroyed before I was aware they existed?”

“Good. He wrote, then.” The man chuckled as if this fact were some sort of personal victory. “I thought you might be here shopping for your trousseau, but I’ll let Ashton know that is not to be.”

Matthew exclaimed that he’d found the poles and his father should come quick. Edwina and Ashton’s father turned and strolled down the aisle at a moderate pace as if they were old friends.

“Actually, I was shopping for luggage. I’m afraid I will be departing London for an extended period of time,” she said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “London will be the poorer for your loss.”

Now
that
she recognized as rakish charm. It appeared Sarah’s Mrs. Morrison was correct. Ashton truly came by his charm naturally.

“Perhaps there is an address where my son might be able to reach you, that is, if you’ll permit my giving him such personal information?”

Oh dear!
“That is a problem. I’m not certain of the address myself, as yet,” she said, disgruntled. The exact address hadn’t seemed important until today. Had she known she’d have an opportunity to pass along a message to Ashton, she would have been certain to have it on hand.

“Father, I found them!” Matthew appeared and tugged on his father’s hand. “Come this way.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the senior Trewelyn said, ignoring the child. “However, I’m certain that once my son learns of your altered circumstances, he’ll devise a way to find you. Good day to you, Miss Hargrove.”

He tipped his hat and turned his attention to his younger son. From the enthusiasm on both of their faces she assumed the whole concept of shopping and fishing were new ones for the both of them.

“Stay out of the water,” she called to Matthew, but she didn’t think he heard. The two were already off on their own adventure, leaving her behind.

T
HE
DAY
SHE
WAS
TO
LEAVE
FOR
Y
ORKSHIRE
WAS
soon upon her, and to her dismay, even after her chance meeting with his father, she hadn’t received word from Ashton.

While she’d hoped that he would appear at her doorstep, she had at least expected a letter. None had arrived. Perhaps he truly believed that by not answering his earlier letters she had sent an implied message to him. Then again, perhaps his father had not been able to get a message to his son in time. The result was the same. The wonderful thing about living in London was that the penny post was delivered as often as ten times a day. Which meant she was disappointed ten times each and every day.

Her newly purchased trunks had been loaded on a drayage cart earlier in the morning. With her bicycle strapped on for good measure, the trunks were already making their way to the railroad depot to be shipped north to another rail station. In all likelihood, her trunks would be in Yorkshire before she herself was, but she wouldn’t be far behind. Edwina held on to her rail ticket and watched out the front window for Claire, Sarah, and Faith. They’d promised to call before she left, and time was running out.

A hansom flew around the corner of Commonwealth at a reckless neck-breaking speed before jerking to a stop in front of Edwina’s residence. Three familiar ladies stumbled out, hats in disarray, fans working furiously. They had arrived barely in the nick of time.

Edwina threw open the door to greet her friends and offer them gentle hugs. Sarah rushed to the door, waving a folded newspaper. “Edwina, have you seen this?” She shoved an edition of the
Mayfair Messenger
in her hands. “Read it.”

“Perhaps later on the train.” She placed the paper on the table in the foyer, next to Isabella’s traveling basket, which looked something like a birdcage, but had ample room for a kitten. “Right now I want to spend all my time with you, my—”

“Read it!” Sarah grabbed the paper and pushed it toward her face. “Read it now! He sent you a message.”

Her heart fell. “Who? Walter?” She took the paper and scanned the columns. “He promised he wouldn’t say anything, but he’s been rather quiet and he—”

“Not Walter,” Faith said, squeezing in beside Sarah. “Ashton Trewelyn.”

“Ashton?” Her voice turned soft and airy. She tried to focus on the personals, but her hands shook and her voice raised in an urgent pitch. “Where is it? What does he say?”

“We don’t know,” Claire said, joining the others.

“It’s in code!” Sarah fairly shouted.

Faith calmly took the paper from her hands and set it on the table, pointing to a long three inches of gibberish. Isabella reached a black paw through the bars to bat at her fingers. “Here.”

“What does it say? What does it say?” Sarah said. “I’ve been dying to know ever since he handed it to me.”

Edwina turned toward her in shock. “You saw him and you didn’t immediately send me a message? You know I’ve been searching for him.”

“He made me promise,” Sarah said. “He said it was important that you read the personal ad first. It has a clue where to find him.”

“A clue!” Edwina said in exasperation. “I don’t have time for a bloody clue. I’m expected in Yorkshire and the train leaves shortly. What is this nonsense?”

“Calm down,” Faith said slowly, evenly. “We can always send a telegram that you missed the train. Think of the baby.”

“The baby is the whole reason I’m supposed to be on that train,” Edwina said. But she took a deep breath to satisfy Faith.

“Where’s your journal?” Claire asked. “Isn’t that where you keep that device to transcribe the message?”

“It depends on the code,” Edwina said, her thoughts coming less jumbled now. Faith was correct. They could always send a telegram. If she had the opportunity, she didn’t want to leave without speaking to Ashton first. Still, she needed to transcribe the code, and she always used her journal to record the decoded message. It was a pattern. At the moment, she needed those established patterns to help her function. “My reticule. It’s in my reticule.”

Claire spied the bag on the foyer table. “Got it. What do we do next?”

Edwina stared blindly at the letters and numbers, while the others held their collective breath. She’d never decoded something under such stress before. “Which code . . . which code would he use?” she mumbled. The numbers at the top of the ad registered. It all became clear. Of course! “
Treasure
Island
,” she gasped. “He’s using
Treasure Island
.”

They all cheered and hopped up and down from her deduction.

“Where’s your book?” Claire asked. “You always have that book.”

Unfortunately, her copy of
Treasure Island
was packed in a trunk on its way to the train station.

Her friends’ faces fell when she conveyed the news, no doubt mirroring her own expression.

“Can’t you figure it out from the transcriptions of your brothers’ letters?” Claire asked, Edwina’s journal in hand.

She shook her head. “No, each code is unique as specified by the page and paragraph. I can’t transcribe it without the book.” Her lower lip trembled. They had been so close.

“Perhaps there’s another copy in the house?” Faith asked.

“Why would they have two?” Sarah said. “Books cost money.”

“What is going on down here?” Her mother came down the steps. “I heard cheering and moaning.”

Sarah explained that Edwina had received a coded message from Ashton but couldn’t decode it without her copy of
Treasure Island
, which was on the way to the rail station.

She turned toward her daughter. “Why don’t you use your father’s copy?”

“My father?” Edwina repeated in shock.

“Of course, dear. How else were we to know what your brothers were really writing about?”

The entire gaggle of women ran toward her father’s study. Her mother quickly stepped on a small stool to remove it from a high shelf. “What page?”

“Ninety-seven,” Edwina said, opening her journal to a clean page on her father’s desk. She took a pen from his drawer and opened a bottle of ink. “Paragraph one.”

The others hovered close while she scribbled the letters of the alphabet down one side of the page, drew a vertical line and then began recording the unique letters of the book passage alongside the alphabet.

“Hurry, hurry,” Sarah urged. “I can barely stand this.”

Edwina could barely stand it herself. Even as she calmly recorded each letter on the page, her heart raced for the possible message he might be sending her. She bit her lip in agitation. Why couldn’t he have just sent her a note in plain English!

After she’d written enough unique letters to satisfy the letters of the alphabet, she began to use her newly created chart to decipher the message. She really didn’t have to look at the chart as Claire read the coded text aloud, and Faith called out the transcribed letter. Edwina wrote out the transcribed text, and Sarah called out the full word once translated. Though they all knew the content of the letter before it was fully transcribed, Edwina stared blurry-eyed through tears at the message she’d written in her journal.

My dearest Edwina, my love. Marry me. Make me the happiest of men. Together we will explore distant lands, distant places, and many, many pillow books. I wait for your answer at our special park bench. Please hurry.

“Pillow book?” Sarah screwed up her face. “What’s a pillow book?”

“No time for that.” Her mother bracketed Edwina’s face in her hands. “Do you love this man?”

Edwina nodded her head, not sure she could speak for the sheer joy and happiness that blocked up her throat. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“Then your answer will be yes?” she asked sternly. Again, Edwina nodded. Her mother released her. “I just wanted to make certain.”

“What are we waiting for?” Claire asked. “Let’s find him.”

“Where’s your special bench?” Faith asked.

“I . . . I’m not sure,” Edwina said, wiping her cheeks. “There are two.”

“We’ll check both,” Sarah called, tears streaming down her own cheeks. They ran out of the study ahead of Edwina and her mother. Edwina started to follow but noticed her mother lagging behind. “Are you coming?”

“I’ll wait here,” she replied, her eyes glistening. “This is your moment. You don’t want your mother around when you’re accepting a young man’s proposal.” She turned Edwina by the shoulders to face the door. “Go on now. Tell me all about it when you return. I have telegrams to send.”

Edwina turned suddenly and hugged her mother. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

She walked into the hallway where little black kitten paws tried unsuccessfully to catch the air currents stirred by her frantic friends. She followed them outside, where they piled in a sagging overloaded hansom.

• • •

A
SHTON
PACED
ALONG
THE
STREAM
,
HAT
IN
HAND
,
A
ring in his pocket. He checked his pocket watch again. Surely, she had seen the personal column by now. He’d directed her friend at the newspaper office to take it to her first thing in the morning to be certain she saw it. And yet he’d been waiting for well over two hours.

Perhaps she wasn’t coming. This wasn’t the first time that thought dared to enter his head. Heaven knew he’d given her plenty of reasons for refusing him. There was his reputation, of course, which seemed to matter to everyone else except Edwina. Then he stole her virtue. Granted, Edwina was willing, but he as the man should have known better. He should have been more responsible and less influenced by his overwhelming desire for the woman who so beautifully offered her innocence to him. Then he abandoned her, leaving her to wait in a thunderstorm, not knowing he’d been sent to Rome. While joining the Guardians had been her suggestion, she was worth more to him than any secret organization. He should have gotten a message to her somehow.

That thought inspired another. Certainly she wouldn’t go to that spot where she’d waited and waited in the pouring rain. He doubted he could ever visit the Regent’s Park zoo without thinking about how miserable she must have been, how heartbroken and disillusioned. Well, he would wait for her here along the stream until the stars came out and then even longer. She loved him. He knew it in his heart. She loved him and therefore couldn’t marry another. Dear Lord, when his father told him that, he fell to his knees and thanked God for a second chance. His prayers had been answered . . . even if his letters hadn’t.

And so he waited, and paced, and waited, and paced. Suddenly, he heard a commotion begin to rise above the whisper of the wind and the gurgle of the stream. Voices? Shouts? He could sense a rumble in the ground beneath his feet, and if he wasn’t mistaken, someone yelled “We’re coming!” though it wasn’t the voice he longed to hear.

Suddenly, she was there. Standing on the path. She stood all alone, her chest heaving like she’d run the entire way. Her glorious hair had torn loose from its confining pins, as if she’d ridden her bicycle over bumpy country roads to reach him. Sweat glistened on the skin peaking beneath her wide-collared blouse, where a bit of pink flashed. Her cherry blossom necklace, he guessed. He started walking briskly toward her.

Three women suddenly stepped behind her. Her friends from the Crescent. He recognized the two ladies that had stormed his house in search of their lost friend the night he’d secreted her away in the hidden gallery. The woman from the newspaper office was there as well. All three crossed their arms in front of them as if to form a barrier from which there would be no escape. Not that he planned to escape. But he suspected that if Edwina’s response was not as he prayed it would be . . . or if his proposal was for anything less than marriage . . . he’d be swimming in that stream with no hope of rescue.

Edwina walked tentatively toward him, while he closed the distance from his end. Dear God, she was beautiful. She had a glow about her, perhaps heightened from what appeared to be a hurried journey to his location. In light of the observers, he’d have to refrain from scooping her up in his arms and kissing her senseless, which truthfully had been his original plan.

“I see you got my message,” he said as they approached talking distance. It felt awkward speaking to her like this after only having spoken to her in his dreams for so long. “I understand you are a free woman.”

She nodded. Why didn’t she speak? Say something?

“I’m afraid I didn’t speak to your father beforehand. I thought as a modern woman, you would prefer to make this decision on your own without someone making it for you.”

She nodded again. She certainly wasn’t making this easy. He reached over and took her hand, smiling at the ink stain on the index finger, but then remembered his purpose and instantly sobered. “I wanted to apologize again for causing you to wait in the rain, and for ever making you think that I wouldn’t be there when you needed me.”