The de Valery Code (10 page)

He took a deep breath and addressed Stratton. “Perhaps we can try to figure out who stole your manuscript. When was the last time you viewed it?”

Stratton was quiet a moment, his mind working. “A month ago, perhaps?” He shook his head. “I hosted a party and some of the guests came in here to look at the books.”

Rhys glanced at Miss Derrington, who’d gone a bit pale. He knew she was worried. She wanted to find the code and the treasure as much as he did. “Do you remember who?”

Stratton massaged his temple. “There were several people. I don’t know . . . it was a hedonistic party.”

Did he host any other kind? “Perhaps Post will recall the guests and we can go from there.”

“You think one of them stole it?”

“I think it’s possible. Recovering it, however, will be difficult.”

Stratton bared his teeth again. “Horseshit. You find out who took it, and I’ll make sure the son of a bitch returns it. I’ll go talk to Post.” He turned to go, but stopped short. “You need to leave. I don’t trust anyone in here now.”

Miss Derrington plucked up her manuscript and exited first. Stratton locked the door behind them and took himself off without another word.

Miss Derrington wasted no time. She turned on Rhys, her gaze dark and troubled. “What are we going to do now?”

“Try to determine who might’ve stolen the book. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“And then what? Encourage Stratton to storm into the person’s house and take it back? This is hopeless.”

He touched her arm again, then chastised himself. He couldn’t take liberties. Though she didn’t object. “Don’t think like that. We’ll find it.” He wished he believed that, but he was fairly certain she was right. And damn if that didn’t frustrate the hell out of him.

“In the meantime,” he said, lowering his voice, “you should give the book to me for safekeeping.”

She clutched it more tightly to her chest. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Didn’t we agree to trust each other?”

“You
ordered
me to trust you,” she said defensively.

“Am I that much of an autocrat? Have I not demonstrated that I have your best interests at heart? That I will protect you?”

“Me or the book?”

Frustration erupted inside of him, and he simply couldn’t stand still. “Walk with me.” He retreated and paced to the opposite end of the gallery, away from Mrs. Edwards, who was knitting, oblivious as usual.
 

Miss Derrington followed in his wake. Her suspicion was completely unfounded.
 

When he turned to face her, he barely kept a handle on his ire. “Yes, I omitted the purpose of the book when we first met, but I quickly told you the truth and have vowed to continue to do so. I’m afraid we cannot continue this alliance if you are going to doubt me at every turn. Furthermore,” he moved close to her, far too close for propriety, but he didn’t care, “if I wanted your book for myself, I could’ve had it a hundred times over and there is nothing you could’ve done to stop me.”

Her eyes widened and her breath caught. An overwhelming urge to kiss her leapt forward and he barely tamped it back.

She gave the smallest of nods. “What do you want to do now?”

He exhaled, reining in the emotions that had overtaken him. He was a universally pragmatic and reticent gentleman, unmoved to passion. Yet, just a few days with Miss Derrington had provoked him to romantic sentimentality, lust, and now an emotional outburst. Perhaps
he
should sever their alliance.

“I’ll obtain the list of guests from Post and we’ll review the names. Perhaps one of them will lead us to think of something pertinent.”

“Do you think whoever stole Stratton’s book was behind the attempt to steal mine? That man at the inn never would’ve come to one of Stratton’s parties.”

He was impressed she’d come to the same deduction he had—that whoever had tried to steal her book in Hereford was a hireling. “I think it’s likely.”

She looked pensive. “I can’t imagine who that would be.”

“Hopefully the list will spark something. In the meantime, we have to assume this person will try again to steal your book, and if they’ve already successfully stolen from Stratton, they might be able to do so again.”

“Meaning we aren’t safe here.”

He pressed his lips together. “Not as safe as I’d like to be.”

Her gaze was cloaked with uncertainty. “And where would that be?”

He hadn’t thought it through yet. “I don’t know, but we should plan on leaving tomorrow in any case.”

“I suppose I should just go home. I know Mrs. Edwards is eager to get back.” She shot her chaperone a worried glance. “We can’t tell her about this. I don’t want to frighten her.”

“No, and for her safety, we should consider sending her back to Gloucester tomorrow. I can hire a coach in Leominster.” His gaze fell to the book Miss Derrington held so close to her chest. Would she consent to give it to him in the name of her own protection? “I don’t suppose you’d consider going with her and leaving the book with me? For safety’s sake?”

She shook her head. “You know I won’t.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“I’ll be in my room with Mrs. Edwards. Let me know when you have the list.” With a prim nod, she turned and went back to Mrs. Edwards and they departed the gallery.

Rhys watched the sway of her hips as she went and desire fired through his groin. If they sent Mrs. Edwards away on the morrow, that would leave him alone with Miss Derrington. Just the notion was scandalous, but add in the way in which he wanted her and it was positively . . . lurid. How he was beginning to curse that word.

“I’m sorry this errand was for naught,” Mrs. Edwards said after they returned to their room. “Does this mean we’re returning to Gloucester in the morning?”

“Yes.” Margery had thought about Mr. Bowen’s suggestion and agreed it was for the best. She didn’t want to frighten Mrs. Edwards and certainly didn’t want to endanger her.

Yet, would she allow herself to be endangered? Margery’s emotions had bounced back and forth since finding Stratton’s book missing. She’d been shocked, bitterly disappointed, and frightened by the larger situation they’d inadvertently stumbled into.

And she couldn’t dismiss the timing. Her aunts’ book had been forgotten until very recently. Then they’d shared its existence with Mr. Bowen and since then, things had become quite complicated. And perilous.

Did she really think Mr. Bowen was behind the disappearance of Stratton’s book or the attempt to steal hers? As he’d so aptly pointed out, if he’d wanted to take her book, he could’ve done so many times. She shivered as she recalled his proximity—he’d smelled of sandalwood and man, a scent she’d never dreamed could be so tempting. And the way he’d looked at her . . . It was more than just wanting her; she’d seen that look on men before, including their host. No, he looked at her as if he
needed
her.

“I’m going to rest for a bit.” Mrs. Edwards disappeared behind the partition into the maid’s room.

Margery set her book on the bed and hoped Mr. Bowen would arrive with the list soon. Was that because she was eager to peruse the names or because she couldn’t wait to be in his presence again? She chose not to answer that question.

A few minutes later a rap sounded on her door. She jolted, her pulse picking up speed as she moved through the chamber to answer the summons.

She opened the door and realized she should’ve asked who it was before doing so because it wasn’t Mr. Bowen.

It was Lady Stratton.

The countess tossed a furtive glance over her shoulder. “Might I come in?”

“Certainly.” Margery held the door open and then closed it securely after Lady Stratton came inside.

“Where is your chaperone?” she asked.

“Resting.”

Lady Stratton nodded. “Can she hear us?”

“Not if we speak quietly over here.” Margery led her to a small sitting area situated before the fireplace. She found Lady Stratton’s demeanor puzzling. “Is there something the matter?”

Lady Stratton sat at the edge of one of the chairs, arranging her skirts around her ankles. “I heard my husband’s de Valery manuscript has gone missing and that you and Mr. Bowen plan to help him determine who may have stolen it.”

Margery took the opposite chair. “Yes,” she said slowly, unwilling to reveal too much.

Lady Stratton nervously patted the back of her upswept dark hair. “Forgive my boldness, Miss Derrington, but may I ask why you really wanted to view the text?”

Trying to disguise her dismay, Margery worked to keep her features serene. “Purely academic interest. I only wanted to compare it to my book.”

Lady Stratton’s gaze moved about the room before settling on the manuscript sitting atop the bed. Margery stifled the urge to go and snatch it up.

The countess turned her pale gray eyes on Margery. “Miss Derrington, you strike me as an independent young woman. Is it true you’re engaged to Mr. Bowen? My husband says it is so, but I watched the two of you at dinner last night and did not have the impression you are in love.”

In love.
Margery wasn’t sure she knew what that would look or feel like, and suspected she never would. Nevertheless, she sought to maintain their ruse. “What does love have to do with marriage?”

“Absolutely nothing, of course. I’m pleased to hear you realize that too.” Lady Stratton smiled, and Margery saw a glimpse of the vivacious young woman she must’ve been. Before marrying Stratton, perhaps. “Is it possible you aren’t actually interested in marrying Mr. Bowen, that you’ve only agreed to it because you felt you had no other choice?” She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing and gaining intensity. “What if you had another choice? What if you didn’t have to rely on a man ever again?”

Margery’s breath caught. She’d embarked on this adventure to improve their situation—that of her and her aunts—but she never truly believed it could change their financial standing forever. That would be . . . liberating.

“What are you saying, Lady Stratton?”

“You must promise never to reveal what I’m about to tell you. My husband would be quite unforgiving.” She rolled back the edge of her sleeve, which hid her elbow, and revealed a dark bruise.

Margery gasped. Stratton was a profligate and a drunk, but an abuser into the bargain? “I’m so sorry.”

Lady Stratton readjusted her sleeve and sat back in her chair. “I’ve accepted my lot, however you are in an altogether different situation. You can change your future and own it. Are you aware that your book carries a secret code?”

Margery had a split second to determine her reaction and in the end, she couldn’t muster the necessary shock to sell the fallacy that she hadn’t known. So she nodded.

“I thought as much. Can I also correctly assume that Mr. Bowen is aware of this code?”

“He’s the one who told me. I brought him the book to sell it, but he . . . eventually revealed that it held a code.”

“Because you forced him to.” Lady Stratton grinned. “How brilliant of you. Are you partners in this endeavor, then?”

“Yes. He says he can decipher the code.”

Her eyes crinkled with mild amusement. “Perhaps, but I don’t know that anyone is aware of how to do that. My father knew of your book, but couldn’t find its actual location. He’d tracked it through a handful of generations before it became lost.”

Margery’s brain tripped up. “Wait, how is your father involved?”

“Didn’t my husband tell you? The book belonged to my father. He gifted it to us, as a wedding present, for our future child—for Kersey.”

“No, Lord Stratton didn’t tell us how he came to have the book. I’m sorry your father’s book was stolen. You must be devastated.” Which perhaps explained this visit, though there was still something off about Lady Stratton. She didn’t seem upset.

“I would have been. If it had been the actual book.” Her lips spread into a satisfied smile, the likes of which Margery imagined she didn’t often enjoy. “After we realized Stratton was a brute and an ass, pardon me, and couldn’t be trusted with such a valuable item, my father exchanged it with a copy. He simply couldn’t let Stratton possess such a treasure, even in custody for Kersey. And it is a treasure, Miss Derrington, I assure you.”

Margery’s heart hammered at her chest. “Your father has the original text?”

“Yes, and you’re going to take your book to see him. I’m certain he can help you decipher the code and then you will have at least a portion of the treasure for yourself.”

Instead of sharing it with Mr. Bowen as they’d agreed, she’d share it with Lady Stratton’s father. “But how am I to do that? I made an agreement with Mr. Bowen, and I should return to Gloucester. My chaperone is weary.” Something kept Margery from sharing that someone had tried to steal her book. Trust, it seemed, was a difficult thing to give, even to someone who was trying to help her.

“Do you believe that Mr. Bowen will honor the agreement? Has he discussed with you how you will split the treasure?”
 

Margery shifted uncomfortably. “No.”

Lady Stratton’s tone turned hard. “If you put your faith in him, you’re a fool. Men aren’t to be trusted. I’m giving you the opportunity to take your life into your own hands. Go to my father, he will help you, especially if it means saving a young woman from a marriage she doesn’t want.”