Educating Elizabeth

Chapter 13

"But it doesn't make any sense." Elizabeth murmured as she stared at the crumpled sheets of parchment in front of her. She looked up and caught Sir John's gaze. They were sitting in his book-lined office, which now contained an extra desk for Elizabeth, making the gloomy room rather cramped.

Sir John strolled across to look over her shoulder, his expression full of interest. "Three of these documents are written in the same hand. The fourth, the one that I've already translated, is in a different hand, but it is the same code."

"Then we must assume that the writer of the original code ceased working, or was forced to stop."

He shrugged his narrow shoulders, wrinkling the already creased broadcloth even further. "I should imagine that any man who engages in such desperate deception must know the risk to his life."

Elizabeth traced the elegant swirls and curves of the script with her fingertips. "Are you saying the man who wrote these words might be dead?"

"Yes, of course, Ma'am. Unless you think he might have taken the time off for a summer vacation with his family at this crucial point in the assassination plot?"

Silence fell and Elizabeth drew in several deep breaths and allowed the lure of the code translation to neutralize her apprehension. She often forgot that the duke and Sir John lived and thrived in an underworld where life was cheap and deception commonplace.

She stole a glance at Sir John's bent head. It seemed that even the stolid, virtuous Sir John wasn't immune to the effects of such an existence.

She returned to the code and soon forgot the time as she worked on unraveling the intricacies of the puzzle. She likened it to picking apart a piece of weaving and reassembling the threads into a more pleasing pattern. She had finished translating the first two messages and was working on the third. Despite her confidence that her deductions were correct, she found the cryptic translations almost as hard to understand as the code.

She scarcely bothered to raise her head when Sir John said something to her about dinner. His departure registered in the subtle lightening of the room's atmosphere. She had discovered that Sir John's intense interest in her attempts to break the code could be a little oppressive.

When he returned, smelling strongly of the brandy he had enjoyed with his dinner, he dangled a beribboned letter in front of her nose. She recoiled from the sickly scent of attar of roses.

"Mrs. Waterstone, I have an appointment this evening. Would you be so good as to draw the duke's attention to this urgent missive when he returns? It is a letter from his current mistress, Angelique." He winked broadly. "I'm sure the duke will be eager to hear from her." He leaned in closer. "You are a woman of the world, Mrs. Waterstone and thus understand that a man has his??needs. Thank God Angelique has the ability to satisfy the duke's."

Elizabeth managed a tight smile, and wondered again how a man as self-righteous as Sir John could bear to work for the duke. She picked up the letter between her finger and thumb and tossed it onto the furthest corner of her desk.

"Of course I'll see that the duke receives this."

As time passed, the cloying scent of the letter seemed to leach all of the fresh air from the darkening room. Elizabeth tried to breathe through her mouth and ignore the growing buzz of indignation in her head. The duke had told her that she was the only woman in his life. Why had he neglected to mention that he had a permanent mistress stashed away somewhere?

With a low growl, Elizabeth gave into temptation, snatched up the letter and read its direction. The mysterious, and no doubt beautiful, Angelique appeared to live in Mayfair. Elizabeth imagined a blonde, petite temptress flinging her arms around Gervase's neck and providing him with all the sensuality Elizabeth lacked. She took in a deep breath, unclenched her jaw and glanced from the letter to the fire. What if the letter 'accidentally' wafted from her desk and was consumed in the blaze? Would the duke need to know, or would Angelique keep sending letters until she received a reply?

Elizabeth dropped the letter back onto the desk as though it had already been set on fire. She couldn't quite bring herself to destroy it. She decided to wait and see the duke's reaction when she handed it to him. With this satisfying thought, she reapplied herself to the code until a sound from the duke's library informed her of his return.

The duke looked up as she appeared in the doorway and inclined his head toward her before finishing off the contents of his brandy glass. He had discarded his coat and stood by the fire, his cravat loosened and his dark hair in some disorder. His waistcoat appeared to shimmer when he turned toward her as the appliquéd jet beads caught the light. To Elizabeth's jaundiced eyes, he looked as if he had just crawled out of some other woman's bed.

He raised an eyebrow at her continued silence and placed his empty glass on the mantelpiece. She forced herself to speak although the effort to be civil almost choked her.

"You appear a little disheveled, Your Grace. Can I be of assistance?"

He shook his head and continued to gaze at her, his posture relaxed, his expression faintly inquiring. Elizabeth clenched her hands into fists as an urge to run to him almost overcame her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to smooth back the lock of hair that had fallen over his brow or slap his face.

"Don't look at me like that, Elizabeth, you remind me of my mother. I spent the evening in a new gaming house and barely escaped with my life when I pointed out that the bank was cheating." He strolled over to his coat and removed a pack of cards from his pocket. With expert ease, he shuffled the deck and presented them to Elizabeth face down in a fan shape with a flick of his wrist.

"Pick a card, my dear. Examine it closely, and then tell me what is wrong with it."

Elizabeth, her interest piqued, chose a card and considered it from every angle. To her disappointment, she could see nothing amiss with it. She looked up at the duke, and frowned, hating to be bested. "I see nothing, Your Grace. It appears to be just as it should."

"Really?" The duke purred. "Then will you be surprised when I tell you that the card you picked is the eight of diamonds?"

Elizabeth could only nod, her mouth open with astonishment. The duke walked across, put his arms around her and then placed his hands over hers. "Examine the back of the card. Do you feel anything?"

Elizabeth ran her fingertip over the patterned side of the card and detected something on the top left corner. "There appears to be an indentation on the surface," she breathed. "Do they all have it? Is it some kind of code?"

The duke brushed a kiss across the nape of her neck. "You are correct. The cards have been marked with a pin giving the advantage to the dealer and to whoever else is in on the scheme." He produced the rest of the pack and fanned them out for Elizabeth's inspection. She took her time touching each card and commenting on the differences to the duke who remained behind her, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

"Your stepfather introduced me to your mother at this gaming hell. I didn't realize your mother gambled as well."

Elizabeth gathered the cards together into her fist and stared blindly down at them. "My mother has always gambled, Your Grace. That is how she met Mr. Forester."

He accepted the cards back with a cool nod. With a start, she endeavored to change the subject, aware of his ability to extract her secrets without apparent effort.

The letter crackled in her pocket, presenting her with the perfect diversion.

With a flourish, she withdrew Angelique's letter and held it out to the duke. His nose wrinkled as a waft of perfume floated toward him. He took the letter and glanced at the address.

"Ah, thank you, my dear. I'm not quite sure how you came to be the deliverer of this fragrant missive, but I'm grateful anyway."

"Sir John asked me to give it to you, Your Grace."

"I wonder why he found it necessary to do that? Anyone might think he was trying to blacken my reputation. Do you think Sir John is developing a tendre for you?" He frowned. "I must ask Nicholas."

Before Elizabeth could reply, he walked toward his desk and took up a silver letter opener to break the lurid pink seal embossed with a heart. "Unfortunately, Angelique's use of perfume escalates in proportion to her state of agitation." He carefully shook out the single sheet. "I wonder what the devil she is worried about now?"

Elizabeth marched across the carpet in the duke's wake and waited, arms crossed over her bosom as the duke unfolded the letter and began to read. She scowled at his oblivious face when he apparently found the contents amusing.

His inscrutable gray gaze met hers as he scrunched up the parchment and threw it over his shoulder into the fire. "You will like Angelique, Elizabeth. In fact, I think we should take the time tomorrow to pay her a visit."

"If you wish to go and visit your mistress, Your Grace, you can scarcely expect me to accompany you."

"Why ever not?" the duke said simply.

"Because," Elizabeth retreated a step and found herself up against the book lined wall, "It is not a suitable place for you to take me."

The duke came even closer and Elizabeth wondered if he could hear the irregular beat of her heart and the shortness of her breath.

"I don't understand, my dear. Do you fear for your reputation or consider yourself too high in the instep to enter a courtesan's home?"

"No, I..."

"Then you will do as I ask."

"Why on earth do you wish me to be there? Am I expected to watch and take notes? I will not do it!"

The duke pulled her into his arms and drew her head down onto his shoulder. His whole frame seemed to vibrate. It took Elizabeth a long moment to realize that he shook with laughter. With rising indignation, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.

"You are indeed without price. How could you doubt my intentions? I would never expect you to watch me make love to another woman, or, God forbid, comment on my performance. I've already told you I only have one woman in my bed at a time." He patted her back. "Strive for a little faith."

Elizabeth's face flamed scarlet as she backed away. The duke produced the deck of cards and with a wicked smile he held the pack out to her.

"I think that you should go to bed, Elizabeth. You look a little heated. But before you go, pick a card and don't tell me what it is."

With a strangled moan, Elizabeth did as he requested and then turned to leave, the card still clasped tightly in her hand.

"Goodnight, my dear."

The duke's amusement pursued her up the stairs and she didn't think to look at the playing card until she was safely within the confines of her bedroom. She opened her fingers and gasped as she realized that there was nothing there. She glanced down at her bodice where the tip of a card protruded from in between her breasts. She couldn't help but laugh when she found the enigmatic face of the Queen of Hearts gazing back at her.

Gervase stared into the fire where the remains of Angelique's letter smoldered and writhed like an adder. Elizabeth had looked well in the pale lilac gown he had chosen for her. It was a pity she had stained the ruffled cuff with ink. He had never met a woman so unconcerned with her appearance, but somehow it was part of her charm.

Deep in thought, Gervase passed through the doorway concealed in his bookcase, which led to Sir John's office. He smiled when he noticed the disarray Elizabeth had created on her new desk in just one day. By contrast, Sir John's desk was neat as a pin. He stopped smiling when he realized Elizabeth had left the coded messages and their translations out on the top of her desk where anyone could see them.

Surely Sir John had told Elizabeth to put the documents away? It would have been out of character for him to leave without mentioning it. Another, more unsettling thought, occurred to Gervase. Had Elizabeth ignored Sir John's advice and left the documents out deliberately?

Gervase moved toward her desk and arranged the coded sheets in order, laying each translation alongside. His interest deepened as he read through the first two, which, as he had expected, introduced the initial concept of the assassination plot, and identified Le Fleur as the ringleader.

Elizabeth hadn't quite finished with the third, but Gervase whistled softly in admiration of her skills. He and a team of experts from the Foreign Office had labored for months over the damned things and got nowhere. His little brown bird had taken one supercilious look and solved them in a trice, all the while wondering why the other 'muttonheads' were so slow.

He placed the documents in the top right hand drawer of Elizabeth's desk and looked for the key he knew he had left in the lock that morning. He couldn't find it, even after a protracted search. With a soft curse, he retrieved the documents and brought them through into his own study where he knew they would be safe.

Despite his successful attempt to allay Elizabeth's suspicions, his evening had not been without its share of danger. Exposing cheats and then walking calmly out of the house required nerve and Gervase feared he was becoming too old to enjoy the thrill. The threat of a pistol shot in the back at this crucial point in his investigations was not to be thought of.

As he climbed the stairs, a stray memory of Mrs. Forester sitting at the very table where Gervase discovered the cheating stirred in his mind. He tried to recall the expression on her face. Has she looked shocked or angry at his revelations? He couldn't quite remember, his attention focused on the fraudulent card dealer. All he noticed was that her smile was but a pale echo of Elizabeth's.

It wasn't until he reached the very edge of sleep that another image burned across Gervase's vision. He saw again Mrs. Forester's black lace mittened hands scooping up the forgotten money on the table with frantic haste. Then she had disappeared as the uproar over his disclosures reached its peak.