The Casanova Code (15 page)

“Allow me to introduce my brother.” He tousled the boy’s head. “This is Matthew, the proud owner and captain of the good ship
Impatience
.”

Edwina curtsied as if presented to the Queen herself. And Matthew, after Ashton relieved him of the burdensome ship, bowed like a proper gentleman. Ashton beamed, proud of his little half brother.

Edwina nodded to the young lad. “Very pleased to meet you, Master Matthew. That’s a lovely ship.”

Matthew squinted at Edwina. “Is that a pirate’s spyglass? Can I use it to watch my boat?”

“I think you have enough in your hands as it is,” Ashton said, placing the toy ship back in his arms. “Perhaps Miss Hargrove will join us as we take the
Impatience
on its initial launch.” He raised an eyebrow in invitation.

“Of course. I’d love to watch the launch.” She angled her head toward Matthew. “And yes, you may borrow my spyglass if you’re very, very careful not to drop it in the water.”

Matthew let out a gleeful squeal and hurried ahead to the stream.

• • •

E
DWINA
SURVEYED
HER
SURROUNDINGS
,
KNOWING
FULL
well that her parents, Walter, even Sarah would chastise her if they knew she was publicly walking with Ashton. Yet, how could they find fault? She felt so much herself when she was with him. The world became an interesting place inviting participation, not a closed box suffocating her impulses. She pushed the bicycle forward, following Matthew’s path.

“I see you’ve received my bribe,” Ashton said. “I had hoped it would secure your participation in decoding the message before—”

“I should apologize about that misunderstanding,” Edwina interrupted. It was, after all, one of the reasons she’d hurried across the green. Still, she couldn’t look him in the eye and instead focused on the turn of the bicycle’s front wheel on the trodden path. “I thought the package contained something else.”

“A fan, if I remember correctly,” Ashton replied with a smile in his voice. “Back in my wild and reckless past, I often presented . . . certain women . . . with a token of my appreciation.”

She shifted her gaze to him. “But there were so many of them at the soiree.”

His face twisted a moment before he used his stick to knock a stone from their path. “Yes. There were. Back then.”

“I’m surprised they all flashed their fans as if members of some secret society.” A bitterness seeped into her voice that surprised her. She had no reason to be bitter, did she? Except that so many expected that she’d join their ranks. One would think all they had to do was look at her to realize she was not of their league. Ashton deserved someone of a higher social plane than she.

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose they were,” Ashton said. His voice lowered. “It’s not a period of time of which I’m particularly proud.”

“Still, I would have thought that a woman would have preferred to be thought of as special in that context of intimacies. Unique. Not proud to be one of a group.”

“Like you?” he asked softly.

She glanced away. Her inability to conform to others’ expectations had been the bane of her existence. She’d hoped that perhaps Ashton hadn’t noticed, but it was clear now that he had. The thought dampened her spirit. Her mother had drilled into her time and again the concept that men did not cherish the unique. They walked in silence a few moments.

“Have you attempted to decipher the note?” he asked. “After we spoke last I wasn’t certain you’d still be interested.”

“I’ve been working on it,” she admitted, grateful for the change of subject. “I haven’t made as much progress as I would have liked. I believe I’ve resolved a few letters. I found two words that fit the pattern for ‘pillow book,’ so assuming that the author mentioned that vehicle of conveyance, then I may have a few letters. Having the code for the letter ‘o’ led me to discover the words ‘to,
it,
will,
look, and took’ in that order, but that’s not enough to unlock the puzzle. It would be easier, of course, if I knew the key.” She looked at him askance. “I did notice one thing this morning. I suspect the letter was written by a woman. I’ve been working with the version I’d copied in my journal, which naturally is in my handwriting. I’d like to look at the original again, if that’s possible, to see if my suspicions are confirmed. I’m surprised I didn’t notice it immediately.” Of course, she’d been far too excited about the project at their first meeting to consciously note such a thing. Then, after Walter’s revelations, she’d been too uncomfortable in Ashton’s presence to notice. Now she wondered what else she might have missed.

“My father has asked if I’d discovered a note on the night of the Guardians’ meeting.”

Her eyes widened. “Then someone
was
looking for it. What did you say? Do you think he was to be the recipient?”

“Matthew, wait!” Ashton called. “Let me help you with that.”

The child attempted to put the boat in the stream, which given his small frame put him in danger of falling in. Ashton quickly took the boat from Matthew’s hands and knelt down alongside the boy to place the boat safely in the water. He handed him the end to a string tied to the vessel. Once again Edwina was struck with the similarity of their looks. If Ashton hadn’t already told her the family history, she would have assumed they were father and son, not brothers. She imaged Ashton would make a wonderful father, watching him with the young boy. He had even noticed the potential danger before she herself had.

“If you tie that string around his wrist, he won’t lose the boat,” she offered.

“Good idea.” Ashton looped the string around the boy’s wrist. The three of them watched the stream’s current tug the ship away from the bank. The long string enabled it to drift a distance before the boat turned, fighting the force of the current. Matthew ran down the bank, which in turn allowed the boat to continue its race downstream. “Don’t run past those trees and stay away from the water,” Ashton called before inviting her to sit with him on a bench along the bank. She leaned her bicycle on the back of the bench, then they both watched Matthew’s joyful progress. Ashton’s eyes crinkled. “I should have brought another string to keep Matthew from running too far from this bench.”

“I’ve missed talking to you,” Edwina confessed. It was probably the wrong thing to admit to a man, but she couldn’t help herself. “It feels so comfortable. I kept hoping to see you at the Crescent after that last meeting, or maybe receive a note, or—”

“I’ve been working for my father,” Ashton admitted. “Do you not recall? It was your suggestion. You thought the experience might help us identify the sender.”

“And has it?”

“In a way, I suppose it has. Remember when you asked about the paper used to wrap the pillow book?” Edwina felt a moment of panic remembering that Ashton had said earlier that the wrapping was still in the chamber. In the course of recovering it, had he noticed anything amiss? “It had been moved from the chamber and made available to the household staff to use,” he continued, oblivious to her distress. “Apparently Matthew’s governess had taken it to use for his lessons. I managed to find it in the nursery.” He chuckled. “I’d about given up hope of finding the piece when I thought to check on Matthew and noticed the conspicuous brown squares. The paper had a mark on it that I now recognize as the
mon
of Raja Shipping, a company based in Calcutta.”

Edwina relaxed. Surely he would have mentioned the missing netsuke if it had been noticed. “A
mon
?”

“It’s a mark often used in the Japanese culture to designate a family or an association. My father’s company uses a falcon head in a circle to note its parcels. You might’ve noticed it on the wrapping of the spyglass.” He grinned. “I made sure it was placed in the wagon for your area. Raja Shipping uses an elephant’s head in a circle.” He leaned back and tilted his head at a somewhat rakish angle. “You might recall seeing similar marks on the woodblock prints in the clothing of the participants.” A decidedly wicked grin tilted his lips. “Of course, if you’d like to reexamine some of those prints . . .”

“A pattern,” she said, noting the similarities. “How interesting that both your father and Raja Shipping would use the same circular pattern. I can understand your father, given his intense interest in the Japanese culture, but how interesting that an Indian company would adopt a similar pattern.”

“They both deal with freight and specifically with wheels. I assumed that similarity—”

“But neither company is of Japanese origin, yet the package was,” she interrupted. “Curious. It’s possible there is a connection. Did you learn anything else?”

Ashton pointed to the spyglass. “May I?”

Edwina handed it to him. He promptly raised it to his eye and watched Matthew tug on the string to drag the boat upstream. “I believe I’ve made some interesting observations on improvements in the freight operation. While I’ve learned that I have no passion for moving freight myself, I have more respect for those that do.” He lowered the scope to his lap, apparently assured that the boy was in no danger. He showed her the calluses that had formed on his palms. “I’m not opposed to hard work, but my injury makes sitting on a jostling cart for long distances difficult. My leg crumbles beneath me when I attempt lifting heavy loads, but I’ve been doing so anyway. I’ve noticed some small progress, even if the men I am sent to work with do not. I imagine they believe I’m utterly useless. My father believes my talents lie with seducing women.” His lips tightened. “Perhaps he’s right.”

“Nonsense,” Edwina protested. Her heart twisted to hear the exasperation in his voice. At the same time she found an anger building within her at his mistreatment at the hands of his father. “You have abilities beyond that of a common laborer. How can your father not see that? You were a member of the King’s Royal Rifles. Not everyone is admitted to that select group.”

“There is that,” Ashton said. He smiled. “The demand for a sharpshooter on the streets of London is limited, though, and my wound ended my military service.” He looked down at the spyglass and turned it gingerly in his hands. His finger slid over the brass plate of Thomas Harris & Son, the manufacturer. “I’ve often thought that if a spyglass such as this could be affixed to a rifle, it would improve the accuracy of our corps. It would have to be smaller, though.” He hefted it up and down. “It’s a bit on the heavy side as it is.”

“Your wound has obviously not lessened the use of your mind. Have you tried to find a way to make a spyglass suitable for attachment to a rifle?”

He turned toward her, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t let anything get in your way, do you? You see a need and you attack it no matter the obstacles.”

Suddenly she wished he had given her a fan instead of a spyglass. That way she could use it to fan the heat rising in her cheeks.
Fan
 . . . an idea sparked in her mind.

“Ashton, what if those
mon
marks are also symbols of something else? What if they signify membership in a secret society like the Guardians?”

His eyes widened. “I hadn’t considered that, but it would make sense. It would give individual members in different countries a way to recognize one another.” They sat silent for a few moments.

Ashton studied her. She truly was amazing. An organization such as the one Lord Rothwell described would most likely have members beyond Great Britain. The members would need a system to locate one another. It was time he approached his father about the Guardians.

“You’ve copied the message in your journal, correct?” Ashton asked. Edwina nodded. “Then I shall give the original letter to my father. I’ll tell him I found it on the floor of the library. Perhaps it’ll open up a discussion of the Guardians. We’ll still have the copy to determine if secrets exist therein. But in the meantime—”

Their heads turned simultaneously at the sound of a scream . . . followed by a splash.

A
SHTON
FLEW
OFF
THE
BENCH
IN
AN
AWKWARD
stride toward the child flailing in rapidly moving water. Edwina grabbed her bicycle, thinking it would be faster than running down the uneven path. Using his stick to great effect, Ashton managed to cover distance quickly and continued until he was slightly ahead of the boy. He shrugged out of his jacket, then plowed into the water.

“Matthew! Grab my stick!” he yelled, extending his walking stick with both hands for greater reach. While Matthew didn’t exactly grab hold, his thrashing body bumped into the thin wooden barrier. Ashton’s back muscles clenched with incredible strength as he used his walking stick to herd the child out of the rapidly flowing center of the stream. His face contorted with the strain but he manipulated the child toward the bank until he was close enough to reach with his arms. Abandoning the stick to float downstream, he pulled Matthew into the shelter of his chest, hugging the child fiercely. Edwina watched from the bank, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. How could anyone consider a man of such amazing ability less than capable?

After assuring himself that the child was uninjured, Ashton pushed the boy toward her, and she helped haul the child onto the safety of the bank. Matthew cried, more out of fear than injury, and Edwina did her best to comfort him. Her gaze, however, slipped over to Ashton, who stood doubled over in the stream gasping for breath. She saw the taut lines of pain edged into his face, yet when he looked up and saw her concern, his attempted smile twisted his face into a grimace. He shook his head. “I knew I should have affixed a string to that boy.”

He made her laugh, mostly from relief that both man and child had escaped injury. Even though Matthew clung to her skirt, she helped Ashton scramble out of the water, leaving the
Impatience
to bobble in the shallows. For one moment, one magical moment, she stood steadying Ashton with her hands on his waist, his hands on her shoulders. Smiling, she tilted her head up, thinking that he too would be celebrating the moment. Laughter shone in his eyes, even as the water plastering his dark hair to his forehead dripped in cold rivulets down his cheeks and nose.

“Thank you,” he said.

Before she could respond, desire replaced the laughter in his eyes. His gaze focused on her lips, warning that he was going to kiss her right out in the open park, and she was going to let him. His arms slipped down her arms, pulling her closer. She reached her parted lips toward his even as droplets of water splattered onto her cheeks. Just as their lips met, a hand tugged on her skirt.

“My boat. It’s going to drown.”

Ashton muttered something under his breath, something that ended in “hell,” before he dropped his hands and stepped back. “When you’re older, my boy,” he muttered, fishing the boat from the water before collecting his jacket from the ground and draping it over Matthew’s narrow wet shoulders, “we’re going to have a talk about timing.”

• • •

T
HE
THREE
OF
THEM
MUST
HAVE
BEEN
A
SORRY
SIGHT
. Matthew and Ashton resembled two muddy rats, while she sported a muddied skirt and blouse from hugging Matthew. She’d quieted him earlier with the promise that he could ride her bicycle home. Now he sat on the hard seat and stretched his body forward to reach the handlebars. His feet dangled above the safety chain. Edwina walked the bike back toward the Trewelyn residence, while Ashton awkwardly strode beside her with the wet boat under one arm and her spyglass, which he had retrieved from the grass where it had fallen, in his hand. She suggested he use the bicycle for support, but he declined.

“They have canes, you know, with inflatable life preservers inside.” He winked at her. “I may have to invest in one of those.”

“A life preserver?” Her face twisted. “In a cane?”

“You’d be amazed at the things one can store in a cane. It can be a snuff holder, a place to store toiletries when traveling, even fishing poles can be stored inside.”

“Fishing poles?” Matthew chirped. “Let’s go fishing!” One would never suspect the boy had just experienced a traumatic fall into a stream. “Will you come too?” Matthew asked her.

“You need to dry out first, Matthew. We’ll go another time.” Ashton looked over the boy’s head. “Maybe Miss Hargrove will honor us with her presence when we go?”

She nodded and laughed with them. After they’d walked a little farther, she glanced over toward Ashton. “So, is it possible I could see the mystery note one more time before you return it to your father? I have that supposition about the author I wish to confirm.”

“I’m certain that can be arranged.” They exchanged a glance that suggested they had to modify their conversation for the young ears present.

“How’s your friend at the
Messenger
?” he asked without preamble.

“She’s doing well,” Edwina said, surprised at the question. “She has a mystery of her own to unravel.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“She has a secret admirer who sends money to her every week.”

“A secret admirer?” Ashton raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. A package arrives without identification every Thursday. She hasn’t a clue who to thank for the generosity.”

“Money should help her with the expenses of caring for her niece.”

“Yes.” She glanced at him over Matthew’s head. “It will.” Something about his expression . . . She decided to ask Sarah if the weekly parcel carried the
mon
of Falcon Freight.

Mindful of Matthew’s presence, Edwina changed the topic of conversation. They chatted about Ashton’s experiences in Burma and India. Matthew had seen a tiger at the zoological gardens but was most curious about the elephants. Edwina was enchanted with Ashton’s descriptions. They reached Trewelyn’s town house before the stories were completed.

After Matthew had been removed from the bicycle and divested of Ashton’s jacket, Ashton handed Matthew his toy ship and directed him to put it away. Once the boy hurried off, Ashton turned to Edwina. “If you’ll wait in the parlor, I’ll fetch the note.”

She looked down at her skirt. “I really shouldn’t. I’d hate for anyone to see me like this.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Ashton grinned. “You look beautiful.”

She could feel a blush creeping up her neck.

“You can leave the bicycle here,” Ashton continued. “One of the footmen will tie it to the fender of the carriage when they take you home.” She started to protest, but he insisted. “Please. It’s the least I can do after all your help with Matthew.”

She supposed there was no harm in delaying her return home for a few minutes, and she did want to confirm her suspicions about the coded message, so she accepted his offer.

• • •

U
NMINDFUL
OF
HIS
OWN
APPEARANCE
, A
SHTON
DASHED
to his room on the upper floor to retrieve the note he’d secreted away. He removed a box from the back of the armoire and found the note stuffed within. If Edwina was right and the hand was decidedly feminine, what would that mean in terms of the contents? He imagined secrets could be conveyed by a woman as well as a man, but he had to admit the possibility surprised him. He pulled a cane from a floor vase by the door, then returned downstairs grateful for the addition of the wooden support. Just as he worked his way down the passageway between the library and the parlor, Constance slipped behind him.

“Ashton. Where have you been?” She ran her fingers across the back of his shirt. “I’ll need you to escort me to the Merton’s recital this evening. The girl has no musical ability, but Mrs. Merton has influence. I want you to—” He turned to face her. “Dear heavens, look at you! What happened?”

“I daresay you haven’t seen your son, as he looks similar. Matthew decided to take a dip in a fast-moving stream. I had to fish him out.”

“You allowed my son in a treacherous stream! He could have drowned! He could have died! Died!” She bristled with anger. “Can’t you even manage to keep a small child out of danger? I swear your father is right. Your talents excel at drinking and whoring and little else.”

He was about to tell Constance to go to the devil, but Edwina, eyes flashing, burst from the parlor. “How dare you accuse Ashton! It was an accident that the boy fell into the water, but due to Ashton’s heroic efforts, we were able to pull him back to land and safety. You should be thanking him. He saved your son’s life!”

“Ashton? You call him Ashton now?” Constance raked her gaze over Edwina’s soiled clothes before turning back to him. “Is this your latest? This little bicycle-riding hoyden? I’ve heard about her immodest antics from reliable sources. I thought you had higher standards.”

“You will
not
insult Miss Hargrove.” Anger slapped Ashton in the gut. “She was instrumental in the rescue of Matthew. She deserves your respect.” He should have left it at that, but the fact that Constance would attack undeserving Edwina stuck in his craw. His eyes narrowed. “Can’t you leave anything fresh and good untouched by your venom? You should be thanking, not insulting her.”

Constance laughed, a caustic sound. Why hadn’t he noticed that years ago? “Thank her for setting her sights on Casanova?” She focused on Edwina. “I know he’s charming, but he’s not the marrying kind. I assure you many have set their cap for him but failed to gain his pledge. Even those with better fashion sense and more money at their disposal.” She attempted a weak smile. “I suggest you find some safe young man of values and settle down before you’ve completely passed your prime.”

“Is that what you did, Constance?” Ashton sneered. “Settled with some safe
young
man, as it appears to me you prefer the rich old ones.” He turned his back on her and led Edwina by the elbow toward the parlor.

“No one can criticize me for seeking to better my circumstances,” Constance called after them.

Ashton didn’t reply, but his body tensed as if anticipating an ambush. While he hadn’t particularly enjoyed traveling on the road with his father’s carters and freight vans, he had enjoyed the reprieve from living in this powder keg of a household. He should count his blessings that he’d learned of Constance’s perfidious nature before asking her to be his wife. That hadn’t saved him from sharing a household with her. If not for Matthew, he’d pack his things in a rucksack and find other accommodations, but someone needed to be here to protect the boy.

Edwina’s face had paled. “I wasn’t trying to bind you with wedlock. I never considered—”

“Put her words out of your mind. I’ve learned that she flatters those that she believes have something to offer her, and lambasts those that don’t.”

Color returned to her face. “As long as you understand . . .”

“Hush now,” he said, stepping closer. “While Constance hasn’t the wherewithal to know when to thank someone, allow me. Thank you for your help with Matthew in the park and thank you for your defense of my actions.” A smile found a way to his lips. He ran his fingers down the side of her face, slipping a stray tendril behind her ear. Trust and admiration shone in her eyes. Lord, she made him feel ten feet tall and as whole and substantial as any man. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced of late. “I can’t say that I recall anyone defending me on the basis of my heroic attributes.” Her returning smile warmed him more than the sun had on their travel home. “It’s a pleasant surprise.”

A blush fanned across her cheeks in a most enticing fashion. Many women only flushed like that when in the throes of sexual pleasure. But Edwina pinked for far more mundane incidents. Would that particular color stain her neck and breasts as he brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure? Would her eyes still shine with generous admiration or glaze over in self-fulfillment? His cock stiffened at his wayward thoughts, but he didn’t care if she recognized the effect she had on him. Some women would find it a compliment. Some women would—

“The note?” she asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He took one glance at those wide, blue, innocent eyes and quickly stepped behind a nearby table before the evidence of his attraction scared her away.

Shame that he didn’t notice that the table supported an eighteenth-century Japanese incense burner in the shape of a rooster. A golden rooster at that. In retrospect, he thought a chair might have been a better choice.

• • •

E
DWINA
WAITED
WHILE
A
SHTON
FUMBLED
TO
REMOVE
folded papers from his pocket. “I brought the paper used to wrap the parcel as well,” he said.

She held the letter to her nose and sniffed. She shook her head. “If it had been perfumed, it’s long since faded.”

“Perfumed?” His brows raised in surprise. “Why would a letter of state secrets be perfumed?”

“It could be a letter from a lover,” she replied. “I see coded messages between lovers all the time in the
Mayfair Messenger
.”