A Christmas Code (The Code Breakers Series Book 2) (8 page)

“It figures you’d spend your time on frivolous activities.” Brinsley shook his head as he rolled his eyes upward.

Her amiable friend’s voice turned hostile. “What is that supposed to mean, sir?”

Since everyone had been under incredible stress, Gwyneth ignored the outburst. “Will it be unusual if both Ash and I are missing from dinner?”

There was silence as everyone contemplated the implications of two absent dinner guests.

“It is acceptable to not participate in the day’s activities, but everyone is expected to be at dinner. It will be noticed and remarked upon if you’re both not at dinner,” Amelia said.

“Ash has said that he planned to return to his own estate for the holiday. We could announce that he departed quickly because of the snow, but plans to return for the arrival of the Prince of Wales,” Gwyneth said.

Brinsley nodded in agreement. “It will give us the time we need. And perhaps this is the right time for me to rejoin society.”

“What?” Both Gwyneth and Amelia asked in strangled voices.

“Lord Derrick Jeremy Randolph Brinsley.” The man built like an ox executed a bow worthy of the Queen’s drawing room.

“You’re not a stableman?” Amelia’s bright violet eyes looked more dramatic against her pale white skin.

“I’m many things, my fair lady.” He gave a roguish smile, accenting the dimple in his left cheek

“Lord Brinsley…your name is familiar.” Amelia was staring at him. “You…ran off with your brother’s fiancée.”

“The estimable one.” Lord Brinsley angled his head in an insolent fashion.

Amelia gasped. “Of all the nerve.”

“Please, we don’t have time for this.” Gwyneth tried to take the edge off her voice, but she still sounded like a shrew.

“Lord Brinsley, your arrival will provide a distraction, but how will you explain your sudden uninvited appearance?”

“I’ll ask Lord Edworth to understand that I’m in pursuit of a lady at the party. I’ve heard that Lady Charolois might be of interest to a gentleman with my reputation.”

“Of course, she’s perfect for you,” Amelia said spitefully.

“I don’t think it’s a good plan to call attention to Lady Charolois since Ash suspects her of having ties to the French spies. I think you need to pick another lady.”

“No respectable lady will go near him,” Amelia sputtered.

“My reputation is a barrier for some ladies, but not all,” he said in a low, seductive voice.

“Amelia?” Gwyneth raised her eyebrows in question. “You can pretend to be courting Amelia,” Gwyneth said.

Both Lord Brinsley and Amelia answered at the same time. “Never.”

“But that’s the reason it will work. You obviously have had a fight and loathe each other, but Lord Brinsley has arrived to mend the wayward ways of love.”

“Yes, it could work. In my pursuit of the lovely, respectable Miss Bonnington, I’ll be privy to all goings on and it wouldn’t be questioned if we devoted lovers steal private time in the conservatory. It will give me time to investigate the stillroom.”

“And you can get messages to me through Amelia.”

Amelia stood still, an unusual moment for her energetic friend.

Lord Brinsley moved closer to Amelia. A red blush immediately covered her pale face and chest. With her porcelain white skin, all her emotions were written all over her skin.

“It will be all for show, all part of my work. You needn’t look so frightened.”

“I’m not frightened. And I’ll do whatever Gwyneth needs me to do to help my country.”

Gwyneth hugged Amelia. “Thank you. I knew you’d help.”

Chapter Ten

With a candle in hand and dressed in her wool pelisse to hide her nightclothes, Gwyneth snuck along the quiet hallway toward Lady Charolois’ room. This spy business was definitely exciting, but not particularly more challenging than sneaking into her brother’s rooms to play tricks on them. She would never admit to being frightened, but the way her stomach fluttered and her knees quaked, she was telling herself one big whopper of a lie.

She hadn’t shared with Brinsley or Amelia that she didn’t plan to rest while they were at dinner. They would’ve tried to dissuade her from her search. They had no proof that Cook had poisoned Ash and they were no closer to discovering the threat against the prince arriving tomorrow on Christmas Eve, if the snow allowed. Ash was still too weak to pursue the mystery.

Gwyneth had waited to embark upon her late night mission until the servants had gone down to the kitchen for their dinners. She planned to look through the lady’s belongings to see if there were any indications of her clandestine connections.

Shadows danced along the walls. She walked briskly, in fear that someone might see her. With the sound of footsteps behind her, she turned suddenly. Panic flared down her spine, causing her to shudder in fear. The flame of the candle on the pier table in the hallway flickered with her abrupt movement. She was scaring herself, getting melodramatic. She exhaled the breath she had been holding since she left her room. There was no one following her. Everyone was at dinner. The idea of helping Ash strengthened her resolve to continue down the hallway.

Lady Charolois’ room was next. When Gwyneth turned the handle, the click echoed down the hallway and thundered in Gwyneth’s ears. Her heart beat at breakneck speed.

The fire in the grate and the burning candle on the bedside stand created an eerie glow in the room. She closed the door behind her and walked toward the lady’s wardrobe. She held the candle in her left hand as she carefully searched the closet. She opened the bottom drawers looking for letters. Tucked into one of the lady’s boots, the same ones Lady Charolois had worn to gather the greens, was a pocket pistol. Interesting. Exceptional for a lady to have a pistol, but not proof that she was a collaborator.

Gwyneth found only that the lady owned an incredible amount of blue clothing. Lady Charolois definitely recognized that blue flattered her coloring and her eyes.

Gwyneth walked to the dressing table. She placed the candle on the table between the assortment of jars, glass bottles, and ceramic pots filled with a lady’s beauty regime—a wonderful place to hide poisons. She sat on the stuffed lady’s chair and picked up the largest jar and sniffed the contents.

The familiar smell of cherry laurel oil arrested her nose. Cherry laurel oil was used by ladies to make their skin supple and fresh, particularly around the eyes. Cherry laurel seeds were very poisonous. But Ash hadn’t experienced the fever, rash, or worst of all, death that came from cherry laurel poisoning.

She examined a smaller jar before smelling the contents. She recognized the pungent scent immediately. Belladonna was highly poisonous and known to anyone who resided in the country. Ladies also used it to dilate their pupils to give them the wide-eyed appearance that gentlemen considered attractive. Ash hadn’t been poisoned with belladonna since he didn’t exhibit the associated hallucinations or mania or death coma. This search hadn’t uncovered anything questionable and she had no evidence against Lady Charolois except that the lady was a very vain woman.

Gwyneth examined and smelled the rest of the jars and containers—beeswax, rice powder, and evergreen bugloss, all used to make a lady’s skin and lips beautiful, but nothing highly toxic.

At this point, she was forced to conclude that the conspirator hadn’t planned to kill Ash, since there were more deadly poisons available. They had wanted to make him ill enough not to interrupt their real mission—the Prince of Wales. If Lady Charolois had used either belladonna or cherry laurel, Ash would’ve died.

His symptoms matched poisoning by holly berries. She needed to get to the stillroom and retrieve the mortar and pestle as proof of deliberate sabotage.

* * *

Kneeling on the cold brick floor, Gwyneth searched in the dark for the mortar and pestle. She couldn’t risk lighting a candle. The stillroom was easily seen from the kitchen windows. At this time of night, the kitchen was a hive of activity. The servants were cleaning up from the evening’s dinner. She had avoided the kitchen by walking through the snow-covered garden.

She pushed against the heavy crock filled with pickles to probe for the mortar and pestle. The scent of dill hung in the air.

The clatter of dishes and bits of conversation from the kitchen were easily audible through the closed door. The chill running through her body heightened her awareness, making her highly-strung nerves tighten up.

Her fingers rubbed against the worn mortar and pestle. They hadn’t been moved. Exultation rushed through her as she slid them out of their hiding place. Gathering the evidence of his poisoning was the best way to help Ash.

“Mon Dieu! What are you doing?”

Gwyneth startled and dropped the mortar on the ground. The harsh noise of the instrument hitting the brick floor reverberated in the silent room.

The muscular cook stood over her with a heavy candlestick in hand. Her face was contorted in rage, her eyes glazed with a wild frenzy.

Gwyneth’s breath couldn’t make it all the way down her lungs. She just stared at Cook, paralyzed by her adversary’s violent stance.

“No one will stop me from killing the king’s son.”

And before Gwyneth could react, the woman swung the heavy candlestick above her head.

Gwyneth jerked away, but the solid metal struck squarely against the side of her head. The punishing impact propelled Gwyneth backward. Writhing in intense pain, bright lights flickered in front of her eyes before the murky black descended.

Chapter Eleven

Ash’s head hurt like a son of bitch. He didn’t remember over-indulging, but he had an agonizing headache, his mouth was dry and his body ached. This was worse than any hangover he had experienced during his days at Oxford. He couldn’t stop the insistent burning and throbbing behind his eyes. The din from Worthy exacerbated the excruciating pain. He prayed to drift back into the empty black void and find peace.

Bright lights flashed, penetrated, despite his closed eyes. He was going to kill Worthy for opening the curtains.

“God damn it, man. Wake up. Gwyneth is missing.”

Ash sat straight up, jolted awake. His heart thundered in his chest like a heavy drum with his sudden motion.

He stared at Brinsley, trying to comprehend what was happening. “Gwyneth?” He could barely speak. His voice was parched, as if he had been on a fortnight bender.

Worthy handed him a glass of water. He gulped down the water and pushed his legs from under the covers.

“You need to sip the water, sir. You don’t want to be sick again.”

Swinging his legs to the side of the bed made the room spin, and Ash felt as if he might vomit. He couldn’t remember being ill. “What’s happened to Gwyneth?”

“Amelia and I’ve searched her room and spoken with her maid. She told Lizzie that she was going to sleep, but her bed wasn’t touched. And her pelisse is missing, as if she went out.”

Ash stood up, naked. His legs were rubbery and weak. He had a faint memory of being dragged. “Get my clothes. I must find her.”

“But, sir, you’re not recovered.” Worthy stood next to Ash, expecting that he might fall and prepared to assist.

“Recovered from what?” Ash didn’t have time for illness. His symptoms had disappeared as rage pulsing through his body at the idea of Gwyneth missing or hurt. He dressed in his smalls and pantaloons.

Brinsley stepped closer. “You were poisoned. We don’t know by whom.”

“What the hell—poisoned?” Ash slipped on his shirt. “How long have I been out of commission?”

“Less than a day, but Gwyneth was exhausted from taking care of you. Amelia took her to her room, expecting her maid to attend to her while you slept. Amelia came upstairs to check on Gwyneth and found her missing.”

“Damnation. How long has it been since the maid saw Gwyneth?” Ash pulled on his boots.

“Since dinnertime, more than two hours ago.”

“A two hour delay.” Fear and anger swirled in a fomenting mess inside him. “We must act immediately. She could be captured or…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

“With the snow, her captors can’t escape without leaving a trail. I’ve got men checking the grounds”

“Snow?” Ash asked.

“While you were out, at least two feet have fallen.”

“Good.” A moment of relief flowed through him. “That keeps our assailants trapped. Where have you searched in the house?”

“I didn’t want to alert the staff, so I haven’t searched the downstairs yet. I’ve searched the guest wing. Amelia is with Gwyneth’s maid. I came here to get further instructions since I didn’t know who can be trusted in the household.”

Ash walked to his desk and pulled out his pistol. He tucked the weapon into his waistband. “My jacket, Worthy.”

“Gwyneth was previously assaulted in the conservatory. I’m going to search there first. Find Lord Edworth and instruct him to say nothing to his staff or guests of Gwyneth’s disappearance.”

“You should start in the stillroom. Gwyneth discovered poisonous holly berries and a red-stained mortar and pestle hidden there. She concluded you were poisoned. If it weren’t for her detection, we would’ve believed you had the grip and that assumption would’ve been deadly. She saved your life, Worthy said.

Bone-chilling fear flashed through his body in an instant. Gwyneth was in danger because she had tried to protect him. His heart smashed against his chest in deep crushing panic. He was used to risky situations but never involving the woman he loved. He would never let her out of his sight again once this horrific ordeal was over.

He walked briskly to the door, in command of his emotions, determined to find his beloved. “Brinsley, meet me in the stillroom after you have spoken with Lord Edworth. Draw no attention to yourself. We don’t want to endanger Gwyneth by panicking her captors.”

He turned back into the room. “Worthy, tell Amelia to keep the maid in Gwyneth’s room. We don’t want her going to the servant’s hall and discussing Gwyneth’s disappearance. Then go downstairs and see if you can learn anything from the servant’s gossip.”

Ash strode down the hallway. His thoughts centered on how he would punish any person who threatened or harmed Gwyneth. The calculating spy was no more; this was pure and simple revenge.