by Aileen Fish
“Wellington’s men are busy on the Peninsula. The French haven’t left there, they simply enlisted more men to fight in Russia.”
“How does this information help us?”
“It’s too late to use it, of course. But there’s no coincidence in the first two names. We’ve broken the code.”
Adam couldn’t share his brother’s excitement. “They’ll simply use another next time. More than likely, they use different codes for each message.”
“That’s clear by the numbers on the outside of each one. Breaking through this one lets us understand their methods better, making it easier to decipher future ones. Soon we can know the details almost as quickly as the messages are intercepted.”
Taking back the paper, Thorn returned it to a stack and filed them away in a drawer.
Since he’d begun following Boiselle in Town, there was one thing Adam couldn’t understand. “Why do you imagine Napoleon’s men are passing information here in London about their invasion of Russia? The more direct route of travel is over the Continent.”
“Subterfuge. Our cyphers look for word patterns to discover the key to the code. They’re more likely to think messages passing through Town would have to do with the Peninsula than Russia.”
“True.” Adam tugged absently as the sleeves of his shirt where they were exposed at his wrists. “Do you think Boiselle is passing along information about Russia now? How will we connect him to Almeida?”
“We don’t need to.” Thorn’s voice softened and he met Adam’s gaze. “Do we care what he’s arrested for, so long as he is caught? I doubt we’ll ever prove who really ordered Uncle Fitzwilliam be killed, nor who did the act. If that’s why you are doing this, stop now. You’ll take foolish risks.”
“Aunt Caroline said much the same thing. She fears for our safety almost as much as she did her husband.”
“I can’t tell you to walk away from your surveillance work, but I can say I’d rather see you live a long, happy life and let someone else take on your assignment.”
Adam shook his head. “That would be surrendering. No one else will feel the same need for a successful outcome.”
“Which simply means they’ll take fewer foolish risks.”
“When have I been foolish?” Anger simmered in his gut at the insult. “When?”
“Very well, that was a poor word choice. Have you been as discrete as you should be? Have you rotated our men so your presence is less obvious? Less suspicious?”
No, when there was a chance to see Mary Jane, he took that shift himself. “Only when Miss Watson was present did I follow him openly. Where she had reason to be there, I took advantage of the opportunity to use her presence.”
Thorn tapped a finger on the arm of his chair, his lips pressed thin. “You’ve used her. An unsuspecting individual. And repeatedly? Won’t she misinterpret your attention?”
Stiffening his back to keep from slumping like a child being scolded, Adam defended his actions. “I hadn’t intended to see her outside the theatre. I’m certain nothing we did there was blatant.”
Thorn waited without speaking.
“Initially, when I followed Boiselle to a ball, I had no idea if she was there or not. I used our acquaintance to circulate through the guests. I danced with her and her friend. She was in no danger of being connected to me.”
Then came their first kiss. Again, it gave a reason his presence near Boiselle. Mary Jane was as against a relationship as he was, and even found a way to use his attention to her own benefit. But they weren’t supposed to fall in love.
“What happened after that first ball?”
“Nothing, really.” It would be true if falling in love was nothing.
“All that dancing, meeting her at the theatre, and nothing happened between you? You must have told her what your purpose was. Is she an actress? That could be helpful, but do you trust her?”
“I do trust her. And I told her nothing of what I was doing. She’s no fool, she understands the need for secrecy and has accepted it without question. She also knows I can’t promise a future between us, because of the danger involved. Miss Watson—” Cutting off his explanation, he reviewed what he’d just admitted.
“I see. Adam, you must admit you can’t focus fully on your work when you’re falling in love with the woman at your side.”
“Have you tried to not fall in love?” He couldn’t deny his weakness where Mary Jane was concerned.
“I’m reassigning you.”
“Thorn—”
His brother shook his head and rearranged the paperwork on his desk, his usual sign of a conversation being over.
“I’ve told her not to wait for me. There’s nothing between us. I can continue with no distractions.”
“We’re through here.”
Adam stormed out of the room. He would not be dismissed. If they’d broken the key to the code, they were too close to success for him to quit. He would see Boiselle arrested and if he couldn’t be tried murder, Adam would settle for espionage.
Chapter Ten
The first person Mary Jane looked for after entering the ballroom in the Duke of Thornton’s home was Adam. Failing to find him, she searched for Charlotte. She hadn’t arrived yet, either. Mary Jane had been in such a hurry to arrive, she’d beat most of the guests, who were likely waiting until a fashionable time to enter to a deluge of attention.
A curl broke free of its hairpin, falling down her forehead and dangling in front of her eyes. Her maid had complained about being rushed…perhaps a few more minutes spent on her hair would have been wise. She discretely tucked the curl back in place and adjusted the pin.
In her distraction, she didn’t see Adam enter. When he spoke in her ear, she jumped, then her smile grew. “Hello, Lord Adam.”
“Miss Watson. The bronze of your gown flatters your hazel eyes.”
He remembered her complaint about mistaken eye color. The simple remark warmed her. “Thank you. May I introduce my father?”
“Lord Adam, we are honored,” her father said. “Mary Jane has told us so much about you.”
She’d done nothing of the sort. If she had, Father wouldn’t have come, trusting Mother to snare the young man.
“Let’s take a walk around the room,” Adam said.
Taking his arm with a sigh of relief, Mary Jane didn’t look to her parents for permission. The fine wool of his coat sleeve brushed the bare skin of her upper arm, heightening her awareness of his nearness.
“Has your father said anything more about his ultimatum regarding your marrying?”
“No, once Mother mentioned meeting you, and having the invitation for tonight, they both decided the problem had resolved.”
“You haven’t corrected them?”
She looked away, feeling guilty. “I don’t want to accept the truth, myself. I don’t plan to force you into an agreement, but for a moment longer, I’d like to believe we will spend the rest of our lives together.”
“You know I’d speak to your father if I had any idea when I could marry you.”
“Why must there be a date in mind? We simply tell my parents we haven’t agreed on when, that you have some business that must be seen to first. Father’s a businessman, he’ll understand.”
“I wish it was that simple. This morning when I spoke to my aunt, the pain in her eyes was still obvious. She might never get over the loss of her husband.”
“But at least she was allowed to enjoy some happiness with him beforehand. Many years of it.”
“And what if I’m killed before we even have a wedding? What do you have then?”
She was growing tired of arguing. She’d seen nothing that threatened danger severe enough to fear him being killed. If she couldn’t see his affection in his eyes, she might think he didn’t want to marry her ever.
“Adam, I’ve been with you while you follow Mr. Tilney. It can’t be as dangerous as you make it sound.”
“As of now, he has no reason to suspect I�
�m following him. Anywhere where I’d stand out, I let someone else take the watch.”
His answer held little weight. She was tired of arguing, however. All she wanted was to enjoy the time she had with him.
If he were serious about wanting nothing more than friendship between them, he did a poor job of showing it. He should ask for a dance, then mingle with his brother’s guests until the time came for them to join the other dancers. Later, if he’d danced with a good number of young ladies, he might offer to stand up with her again. Spending time alone with her, as alone as they could be walking in the ballroom, hinted at something more. The only thing more obvious would be to claim the supper dance, which meant he’d sit with her while they enjoyed their meal.
Just before they reached her parents, he asked, “May I reserve the supper dance?”
Her point proven, she maintained a polite smile and nodded.
Charlotte and her mother had joined Mary Jane’s parents, and the girls quickly moved far enough away to not be overheard.
“Has he said anything more about an engagement?” Charlotte asked.
“No. The closest he’s come is asking to share supper together.”
“Hmm, and man could do that. Do you think he’s serious about not marrying? What can you do to change his mind?”
“Nothing. Father has calmed ever so slightly since Mother mentioned Lord Adam, so he might be willing to wait a bit longer, but not indefinitely.”
“We’ll find a way for Lord Adam to realize he can’t live without you. And next year, perhaps I can please my parents for finding a husband of my own.”
The girls laughed at the unlikelihood of Charlotte searching for a gentleman who’d suit.
“Lord Adam has a brother, remember? We’ll have to introduce you.”
“Why yes, I think I might be willing to tolerate a duke for a husband.”
“Don’t brush aside the idea of a duke marrying someone of our station. Perhaps when he sees his brother so happy, he’ll realize love has no limitations.”
~~~
Adam came back when the musicians announced the first dance, leading Mary Jane onto the floor. She noticed his cousin standing at the front of the line of ladies. “Is Susan enjoying her birthday?”
“She is. This is her first since my uncle died, so it must be difficult for her, but she hides it well.” He also mentioned the heirloom necklace she received.
“I’m glad. She seemed quite sweet when I met her.”
“She is. She’ll make some man a perfect wife.”
“Not a handful like I would be?”
He had to wait until they met again to reply. “Shall we say marriage with Susan won’t be as entertaining as marrying you?”
“Not all gentlemen want a dutiful wife.”
He grinned. “Indeed not.”
By midnight, when the supper dance began, Mary Jane was glowing with happiness. While she hadn’t spent much time with Adam—nowhere near as much as she’d prefer—she’d caught his smiling glances on the dance floor when they performed with other partners. Those brief moments filled her heart.
The other gentlemen guests must have noticed her joyous expression, for she danced almost every dance, an unusual occurrence. Mother and Father also smiled more than normal. She hated the thought of letting them down, if she was unable to convince Adam to change his mind.
She and Adam spoke little during their final dance together, and during supper, but they didn’t take their eyes off each other. So much could be said without a word, Mary Jane realized. She and Charlotte often knew what the other was thinking, but she’d never experienced it with a man. She’d never allowed a man close enough to have that connection.
After they finished their light supper, Adam led her onto the balcony. “We’ll remain close to the house. I’m certain your father is watching from just inside the French doors.”
“Yes, and glancing at his pocket watch as if there’s a certain amount of time we might spend together before he’s able to demand you repair my reputation.”
Adam glanced at the other couples around them. “Yes, this is such a compromising place to take you.”
She wished he’d stop talking and kiss her. A true kiss, with passion and all the emotion they could express without words. Yet she was certain she’d receive no kiss tonight. Everyone would imagine it to be a promise, and he still refused to promise anything.
That truth made her sigh in disappointment.
“I wish things were different in your life,” she said.
“I do, too.” He squeezed her hand, then let it fall to her side before anyone could see. “Maybe I can talk to your father. Not tonight, but in a day or two when I know more about my future. Would that be all right?”
Her heart raced. “Yes. Please do.”
Rather than kiss her, which she still longed for, he led her back inside and said goodbye to her and her parents. She didn’t see him for the rest of the night.
Chapter Eleven
A few days later, someone pounded on the door of Adam’s rooms in the Albany. A minute later, his valet tapped on the door of his bedchamber.
“A Mr. Dayton to see you, sir. Shall I send him away?”
Dayton was supposed to be watching Boiselle that morning. What was he doing here? “Let him in.”
Quickly throwing on some clothing, Adam went into his drawing room, where Dayton stood near the window. The necessity of knowing everything that happened around him was common in a spy.
“What news do you bring?” Adam asked.
“That man from the theatre, Billups, went in to Boiselle’s home this morning, and returned after five minutes.”
“Was Boiselle at home?”
“Yes. He left fifteen minutes after Billups.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, my lord. Harrison took the watch and I came here.”
“Good work,” Adam said. “Go get some rest. I’m sure you must be tired after the long night.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
So, Billups was involved, just as Adam suspected. Donning his cravat and slipping his arms into the coat his valet held for him, he went directly to Boiselle’s home.
Harrison swept the street in front of a building a short distance down the road, close enough for a clear view of any comings and goings. Adam nodded as he walked past, then waited around the corner for the man to join him.
“Has he returned home?” Adam asked without preamble when Harrison approached.
“No sir. The best I can tell, the place should be empty.”
Perfect. As unlikely as it was that Boiselle left a note lying in the open, Adam could hope for a large piece in the fireplace, or an entire paper torn into pieces in a wastebasket. He glanced up and down the street before approaching the entry door and knocking.
No one answered. Boiselle must not have any servants, which was a boon for Adam. He picked the lock and let himself in.
The single room had a cot in one corner, a cupboard with a wash bowl, a table and a chair. Clothing hung on the wall near the bed. On the table were papers, and a wrapper from some food bought from a street vendor. Adam thumbed through the papers, finding nothing. He then moved to the pockets of the coat on the wall. Again nothing.
He’d expected as much, but he wasn’t giving up yet. He opened the cupboard, where Boiselle’s smallclothes were neatly folded, but nothing was out of place there, either.
He returned to the table, studying the papers, deciding whether to take them just in case. Then he noticed a mark on the food wrapper. Picking it up, he found writing—a series of numbers but no letters.
Excited, his heart raced. He took a turn around the room in search of more food wrappers, but found none.
Suddenly Adam heard footsteps on the stairs outside the room. He had nowhere to hide, and there was only a small window looking out on the alley, and he was to floors about street level. With no other choice, he forced open the window and looked for a way down.
The decorative cross timbers of the Tudor-style exterior offered the only support for his decent, so, hanging from the window ledge, he felt with his feet for the narrow footholds, having to turn his boot sideways to support himself. As soon as he was close enough, he dropped to the cobblestones. Noticing the open window above him, he realized that whether it had been Boiselle had been on the staircase or someone else, the man would know someone had been there.
Going straight to Thorn’s house, Adam didn’t care how early it was, and whether his brother would be up. He entered without knocking, as usual, and went straight to the study. His brother sat behind the desk, a coffee cup in his hand. He spoke without looking up. “You found something?”
“Yes.” He explained about Billups arrival and the son departure of Boiselle thereafter, while laying the wrapper on the desk.
Thorn grimaced. “What’s this?”
“I don’t know. Numbers. I have no idea if they’re important, but I couldn’t risk not bringing it to you.”
“Thank you.” Thorn motioned to the seat opposite him. “Now, I thought we agreed you weren’t continuing this case.”
“When Dayton shows up on my doorstep with information, I’m not going to ignore it.”
“I’m not asking you to. Come to me. Send word to one of the others. What would you have done if Boiselle returned while you were inside?”
He’d have done the same thing as if he’d been caught by any suspected spy. He’d fight, run, and remove himself from the case. Since he hadn’t been spotted, none of that was necessary. “I won’t do anything that can be handed off to someone else, all right?”
Thorn nodded, his pursed lips saying he didn’t believe a word of the proclamation. Changing the subject, he asked, “Where do you and Miss Watson stand?”
“We don’t. I haven’t said anything more than that I can’t marry now, so if her father won’t wait, she needs to find another man.”
“You certainly aren’t romantic. I can’t believe we share the same parents.”
“You inherited all those qualities, leaving nothing for me.” That was Adam’s standard response to any claim Thorn made of being better at something.