To Sin With A Scoundrel (26 page)

“The most important section,” pointed out her friend. “I will keep working on it.”

“Yes, we still have work to do, but deciphering this mention of
Penicillium notatum
is a critical discovery.” Excitement edged into her voice. “I am sure it is key to the manuscript’s secret.”

“Isn’t
Penicillium notatum
a form of… mold?” asked Alessandra.

“Yes.”

Her friend made a face. “It’s hard to imagine how mold can be of medicinal benefit.”

“Which makes the last section of code even more intriguing,” replied Ciara.
“May I take your notes to show Sir Henry? He will be very excited to see what progress we have made.”

“Of course.” Alessandra slanted a look at the clock on the mantel. “Forgive me for rushing off, but I promised Isabella to
take her to the Tower menagerie. She wishes to make some sketches of the lion.”

Ciara smiled. “She is showing quite an aptitude for art. The pictures she did of the monkey were quite wonderful.”

“She enjoys it, so I am doing all I can to encourage her interest,” replied her friend. “I’ve just hired a Swiss drawing master,
who comes very highly recommended. The only trouble is, he is said to be a trifle temperamental. How he will do with a child
remains to be seen. The first lesson is tomorrow.”

“Isabella is not easily intimidated,” assured Ciara.

“That is true.” Alessandra rose and pecked a kiss to her cheek. “Chin up,
cara,
and don’t lose heart. We shall fight fire with fire.”

She nodded, trying to dispel the lingering fear of Sheffield’s family.

After seeing her friend to the door, Ciara returned to the library, intent on spending the next few hours studying the manuscript.
But her mind kept wandering between the past and the present. The ancient code was not the only thing proving perversely difficult
to decipher…

Giving up on trying to puzzle out her emotions, she gathered her papers and rang for her carriage. Given her current mental
state, perhaps two heads would prove better than one in reviewing Alessandra’s discovery.

Sir Henry’s butler greeted her arrival with a solemn nod. “Please follow me, madam,” he intoned. “The baronet has informed
me that he is always at home when his fellow scholars pay a call.”

From behind the library doors came a lilt of laughter.

Ciara stopped short. “Oh, I do not wish to interrupt if Sir Henry has other guests—”

The butler, however, had already knocked.

“Come in, come in,” came Henry’s voice.

She entered the room and was about to voice an apology when two silvery heads looked up in unison from the display table.

“Lady Sheffield! What a delightful surprise,” exclaimed Henry.

Surprise was an apt choice of words
. Ciara was momentarily speechless.

“We were just studying the stamens and pistils of these poppies,” said Ariel, her blush matching the exact shade of pink tinting
the colored engraving. “Sir Henry has such a fascinating portfolio of prints. And he has been kind enough to share his expertise
on the subject with me.”

“It has been my pleasure,” said the baron.

Ciara shifted her case. “Don’t let me interrupt. I shall stop by another time—”

“No, no, I was just leaving.” Ariel rose hastily and shook out her skirts. “I must be getting home.”

“You must promise to return soon,” said Henry. “We’ve not yet looked at the collection of species from Afghanistan.”

“Thank you, I—I shall.”

Ciara bit back a smile as her friend fumbled with her reticule. Ariel appeared embarrassed, which was rather endearing. Was
something blooming in the room besides exotic species of
Papaver somniferum?

Henry cleared his throat. “Er, have you made any headway on the code, Lady Sheffield?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she replied. “Lady Giamatti had made a breakthrough in decoding the middle part. All that is left
to figure out is the last section.”

His face lit up. “Ah, what wonderful news! I knew I could count on you to solve the mystery.”

“We still have a long way to go, sir.”

Henry dismissed her words with a wave. “I have every confidence in your ability to come up with the answer.”

Ariel voiced her agreement. “As well you should, Sir Henry. Ciara has one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever encountered.”

Then why couldn’t she cut through her doubts and fears?

“Actually, I’m feeling a little dull-witted at the moment,” admitted Ciara. “I thought perhaps a fresh pair of eyes might
see whatever it is that I am missing.”

Henry maneuvered his chair to make room at the table. “Are you sure you won’t stay, Lady Ariel?”

“I am sorry, but I promised Mrs. Taft I would drop off a tisane for her sore throat before the supper hour.”

Interesting.
So the two of them were spending time together. However, Ciara forced herself to remain focused on the main conundrum.

She handed Henry the notes from Alessandra. “Perhaps you would care to read through this while I lay out the manuscript’s
last section. I have brought along a special magnifying glass in case you care to examine the nuances of the pen strokes.”
She made a wry face. “I confess, I have studied the writing from every possible angle and can see nothing that sparks a flash
of inspiration.”

Henry pursed his lips. “Let me see what I learn here before I have a look. But I am not sure I shall be of much help.”

As he pored over the papers, Ciara walked Ariel to the door. “Thank goodness our next meeting of the Circle is tomorrow, for
the three of us need to have a… council of war.”

“Have the Sheffields been rattling their sabers?” whispered her friend.

“They have fired the first shot, so to speak,” answered Ciara. “I think they are gathering their forces for a new attack.
But I will tell you all the details later.”

“Hmmph.” Ariel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, my dear. They will soon discover that they have underestimated their enemy.”

“I’m not surprised that your eyesight is fading, Ciara.” Lucas saw her frown at the use of her given name as he entered the
library and approached the worktable. “Do you never take a break from your studies?” he added.

She set down the large magnifying lens. “I rarely idle away the hours, Lord Hadley. I am happiest when I am expanding my mind.”

“And I,” he added softly, “am happiest when I am expanding a very different section of my anatomy.”

“Lucas,” chided his uncle. “Remember your manners.”

“I’m not sure I ever knew them to begin with.” He wasn’t quite certain why he was going out of his way to be provoking. The
morning had left him in a brooding mood. Ciara and her son were so vulnerable to attack. It was impossible to anticipate how
their enemies might strike next.

“Is the swelling around your ribs any better today?” she asked softly, ignoring his risqué innuendo.

“The area is still a bit black and blue, despite your tender ministrations.”

“You ought to be in bed,” she murmured

“I could be convinced, if you would come tuck me in.”

“Lucas…” Henry’s voice turned sharper.

“It is quite all right, Sir Henry. I have grown used to your nephew’s rakish teasing.” Ciara jotted down something in her
notebook before applying the glass to another section of yellowed parchment.

Curious in spite of himself, Lucas edged closer to the table. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for clues,” she said without glancing up.

“To what?” he persisted, leaning down. The scent of her perfume—a beguiling blend of exotic spices—tickled at his nostrils.
Cinnamon, cloves… he could barely refrain from licking his lips.

“Patterns,” she replied tersely.

Lucas stared at the squiggles.

“The manuscript is written in a series of codes,” explained his uncle. “Each section is increasingly complex. Lady Sheffield
has solved all but this last one, which spells out the exact secret hidden by the ancient scholar.” He turned to her. “By
the by, I think we should send a progress report to Lord Lynsley. If what we suspect is true, and this really does reveal
the secret of a new medicine for healing wounds, then the discovery will be of great interest to the government and the military.”

“Yes, by all means, if you think he would wish to hear of it.” Ciara nodded absently as she moved her magnifying glass across
the page.

Lucas studied her for a moment longer before asking, “Are you looking for the frequency of certain forms?”

“How did you know?” She sounded surprised.

“I am a gambler, remember? And any gambler worth his salt learns to count cards. That way, one has a better chance of predicting
the odds of what will turn up next.”

Henry looked thoughtful.

“I imagine you are trying to determine how often a symbol appears,” Lucas went on. “Then, based on the most common usage of
vowels and consonants, you make an educated guess as to which letter is which.”

“It takes patience and a devilishly clever mind,”

said Henry. “And even then, it’s a process of trial and error.”

“Hmm.” Intrigued, he held out his hand for the magnifying glass. “May I?”

Ciara passed it over without comment.

“Part of the trouble is that we don’t know what language it’s based on,” explained Henry. “Lud, there are so many arcane dialects
from the Arab world at that time.”

Lucas continued his study. “Have you tried classical Greek? The fellow was, after all, copying a treatise by that fellow Hippo…
Hippo…”

“Hippocrates,” murmured Ciara.

Henry tapped his pen to his chin. “Sometimes the correct solution is the simplest one.”

Ciara slowly traced a finger along the lines of writing. “You are not merely guessing. You
do
see a pattern, don’t you? It makes sense, given your artistic eye, and the fact that you had to study your letterforms far
more closely than the other boys.”

Lucas stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Lord James mentioned your difficulty in the schoolroom,” she replied softly.

“Jack is an arse,” snapped Lucas. “He has taken a minor childhood incident and blown it all out of proportion.”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Lord Hadley. I have heard that a good many children suffer through the same problem.”

“What problem?” asked Henry, his face wreathed in concern.

“Your nephew had trouble reading and writing on account of seeing the alphabet reversed.”

“Is that why you never wrote to me?” asked Henry softly.

“Damnation, no,” he growled. “I didn’t write because I was too busy raising hell.” Dropping the magnifying glass, as if it
were a burning coal, he turned on his heel and stalked to the door. “Speaking of which, you will have to excuse me. I’m late
for a game of vingt-un at White’s.”

Lucas was still seething as he entered the club. Jack was about to have his beak bloodied.
How dare he reveal such private, painful secrets to the lady?

“Why, look! It’s the besotted bridegroom!” Peering over the back of his armchair, Ingalls raised a bottle of brandy in mock
toast and started to hum a wedding march.

Greeley joined in, whistling the melody slightly off-key.

“You two are idiots,” muttered Lucas.

“You know why he’s dressed in such somber shades of black and charcoal?” sniggered Farnam. “He’s in mourning for his sex life.”

“Speaking of black, what happened to your phiz?” asked Ingalls. He squinted at the bruise on Lucas’s cheekbone. “Looks like
you went a few rounds in the boxing ring.”

“I got hit,” replied Lucas. “By a horse.”

“Damned clumsy of you, man,” remarked Greeley. “Were you drunk?”

“I’ll bet he was bewitched by his intended,” said Farnam in a dramatic whisper. “A potent love potion that had him stumbling
like a mooncalf through the streets.”

The other two chortled.

In no mood for teasing, Lucas summoned a scowl. “Freddie, another insulting word about the widow and you will find your cods
roasting over the fire.”

“Cool down, Lucas. What’s happened to your sense of humor?” groused Ingalls.

“It seems to have evaporated after his latest splash in the newspapers,” muttered Farnam.

“I haven’t changed,” he said defensively. “It’s just that…” Damn, it was unfair that Ciara was the butt of nasty jokes. She
deserved respect rather than cruel innuendos on account of her intellect. Perching a hip on the back of the long leather sofa
facing the hearth, he motioned for his friends to draw in a bit closer.

“I do have a secret, but you must promise not to tell anyone.”

His friends solemnly crossed their hearts.

“Lady Sheffield is engaged in a very important scientific project…” Lucas recalled that Henry had said Lord Lynsley was following
Ciara’s work on the manuscript with great interest. After all, the discovery might be of great medical value to the military.

“For the Marquess of Lynsley,” he continued. “Who is heading up a special military research committee for Whitehall.”

“Whitehall?” echoed Farnam.

“Yes, the lady’s intellect is held in the highest regard by the government.” Lucas dropped his voice a notch, forcing his
friends to edge closer. “It’s all very hush-hush, but she’s working on deciphering the secrets of an ancient medical manuscript—and
she’s
this
close to completing the task.” He held his fingers a hairsbreadth apart.