A Code of Love (The Code Breakers 1) (10 page)

So much for his new image. He didn’t want to guess what his father would’ve thought. He was lost in musing about his father when he saw Henrietta. The sunlight shone on her golden hair, giving the red streaks the effect of fire. She rode upon a mammoth horse, not a tame mare that ladies were supposed to ride. The silence in the park was peppered with her laughter, sending anticipation through his body. She was riding with Edward and a gentleman whom he couldn’t identify.

With the gentleman’s back turned, his face remained hidden, but his posture and stance looked familiar. He couldn’t believe it. Ash was riding with Henrietta. He was going to mutilate his friend.

In his annoyance, he inadvertently pulled too tightly on the reins. The sensitive horses reared, thrashing against their confinement.

Henrietta and Ash wheeled their horses toward the sound. They both stared at him, watching him pull in the horses. Ash laughed loudly. He watched Henrietta’s tight intake of breath when she recognized his companion.

Her younger brother said loudly, “What a fine pair. Have you seen any better?” The innocent innuendo wouldn’t be lost on Ash, who snorted.

Isabelle, sensing his discomfort, joined in the fracas, primed for retaliation after this morning’s rejection. “Cordelier, darling, do you want me to help you?” She pressed herself closer to him, running her hand along his leg.

He thought he heard Henrietta gasp, but perhaps it was only his guilty imagination.

Isabelle was laughing gaily when they drove by the group.

He shot Ash a look that promised retribution. An unrepentant Ash smiled back.

Henrietta bent down to speak with her brother, avoiding them and effectively distracting her brother from the improper scene unfolding.

“Isabelle unhand me this instant,” he said
sotto voce
.

“Lady Henrietta Harcourt?” She laughed heartily. “Is she the other who offers you comfort?”

Outrage coursed down into his gut. “Keep silent.” He did want Henrietta to be the one who brought him comfort, but after today’s foray with Isabelle, it was going to be almost impossible to convince Henrietta that Isabelle wasn’t his mistress.

Henrietta wasn’t making it easy for him to tell her about the Wentworth Ball and now this newest escapade would be hard to explain without revealing his work. He planned to clarify his position with the Abchurch office and his relationship with Isabelle but he had deep fears that Henrietta wouldn’t be receptive to his role over her family. She hadn’t been home to him all week, however Henrietta Harcourt wouldn’t be able to outmaneuver him much longer. The Chadwick soiree was tomorrow.

* * *

Henrietta and Edward had paused on their morning ride to greet Lord Ashworth. The friendly gentleman had been regaling them with hilarious anecdotes about Lady Billingsworth.

“Hen, look at that pair,” Edward shouted and pointed. The thunder of hooves, snorting, and clatter of wheels came from behind her.

She wheeled Minotaur toward where her brother gestured. Lord Rathbourne, moving in a phaeton toward them, fought to control a magnificent pair of black horses. Seated next to him was Isabelle Villiers, amused at his difficulty.

Anyone looking upon Isabelle Villiers’s décolletage didn’t have to make a big leap to know why Lord Ashworth coughed into his hand to hide his amusement about Edward’s innocent comment.

“Hen, isn’t that Lord Rathbourne?” Edward inquired when the couple passed them.

She tried to appear disinterested, adjusting her riding skirt over her sidesaddle.

“Hen, why didn’t you speak to him?” Edward asked in a loud voice. “I’d really like to learn more about his horseflesh.”

Henrietta bit the side of her mouth, suppressing her need to say anything about flesh in front of her younger brother. “Lord Rathbourne was fully occupied.” She looked directly at Lord Ashworth, challenging him to make any further comments.

“His wife is a looker, isn’t she, Lord Ashworth?” Edward’s whisper was fully audible. He was imitating the banter he must have heard many times among Michael and his friends.

Lord Ashworth leaned over to speak to her, out of Edward’s hearing. “This isn’t what it appears.” He gestured to the couple who had passed them.

Trying to feign indifference, she spoke with the right amount of insouciance. “He’s planning on marrying her, then?”

Lord Ashworth chortled loudly. Lord Rathbourne turned back when he heard his friend laugh.

Bored by the adult conversation, Edward and Gus, his stout, four-legged companion, continued to the Serpentine to throw and retrieve sticks, the favorite activity of the boy and the yellow dog.

“It looks like Cord has returned to the reckless life he led before he went to the Continent, but he has changed. He’ll never return to the life of dissolution.” Lord Ashworth watched her closely, gauging her response to his disclosure. “He suffered terribly after his brother died.”

Her gaze drifted upward, taking in the brilliance of an almost opal sky. She remembered the pain, her deep anger and bewilderment when her mother died. Could Cord’s wild behavior have been a reflection of his grief? His controlling, cold manner a defense to protect himself from the pain?

Lord Ashworth leaned over his roan. “He’s my closest friend and I want to see him put the past behind him.”

“You’re a good friend, but I’m unsure what this has to do with me.”

“You held his interest before he left for the Continent and he hopes to further his acquaintance with you now that he has returned.” A wide grin spread over Lord Ashworth’s boyish face. “He was ready to kill me just now for talking with you.” Lord Ashworth’s smile widened, enjoying his friend’s wrath. “He isn’t the easiest man.”

“I’m sure Lord Rathbourne has many endearing qualities.”

Lord Ashworth laughed loudly, his head thrown back. “I’m sure his mother would’ve found him endearing if she were still living, but I’m not sure I can think of anyone else who would find Cord endearing. Uncompromising, stubborn, controlling would be how I’d describe him and a courageous and loyal friend.”

What could she say after such a heartfelt testimony? “Lord Ashworth, it’s been most enlightening to hear about the gentleman. But you’re under a misapprehension about Lord Rathbourne’s feelings for me. We’re mere acquaintances.”

“Hen, come and see Gus try to catch the swans!” Edward’s voice traveled the distance. After their last excursion, she didn’t trust Edward and Gus at the Serpentine.

“Excuse me, Lord Ashworth. I must attend to my brother and his dog.”

Lord Ashworth tipped his head in a bow from his horse and said under his breath but loud enough for her to hear, “Not mere acquaintances for long.”

She turned Minotaur toward the path leading to the Serpentine. She was a grown woman with many responsibilities, but when it came to understanding relationships between women and men, she was ignorant. She wished there were a book that dissected men and their behaviors like Greek participles. She was brilliant at dissecting Greek participles.

Four years ago, Lord Rathbourne had approached her at Lady Chillington’s ball with an air of superiority and haughtiness. His dark aristocratic features and powerful muscular physique created a commanding presence, but his distracted and insincere gestures annoyed her. For him, asking a young debutante to dance was sport, nothing more than a form of entertainment, simply something to laugh about with his jaded friends.

Soon after their dance, she caught a glimpse of him leading Lady Atherton, a widow of some repute, into a curtained alcove. His fingers trailed along the woman’s neck. His other hand gently moved her into the hidden area. She might have been an innocent, but she knew there was only one reason for Lord Rathbourne to lead a lady into a cloistered area. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard the gentleman near her chortling about Rathbourne and his newest paramour. The gentleman, unaware of Henrietta, described in scathing details Lady Atherton’s known appetites.

Lord Rathbourne had the nerve to come back and ask her for a second dance after his exploits with Lady Atherton behind the curtain. Unable to refuse a gentleman, she was forced to dance with him again. She never admitted that a tiny, a very tiny part of her fantasized about the pleasurable activities in the alcove. And she never, ever admitted that in her fantasy she was the captivating woman led behind the curtain by the experienced rake.

From that night forward, she had spent her first season avoiding Lord Rathbourne. She wasn’t sure if it was because of his insincerity or her own frightening fantasies. A few weeks later, her season ended prematurely. Her mother had fallen ill and, for the next years, she had no time for a young woman’s fancies about captivating lords and secret pleasures. Her time was spent tending to her dying mother.

Chapter Eleven

Henrietta stood with Mrs. Brompton at the top of the stairs. “Please remind Uncle Charles that I’ve gone to Lady Chadwick’s soiree this afternoon.”

“A soiree? You’re going to a soiree?” Mrs. Brompton didn’t try to hide her surprise. The housekeeper didn’t hold back her feelings or opinions concerning the Harcourt children. Having grown up in the Harcourt household as a young maid and been with the children through the death of their parents, Mrs. Brompton acted more as an elder relative than a servant.

“The soiree is to solicit support for the French émigré community.” Her mother had worked tirelessly for the émigrés and Henrietta had taken over the cause. If this were merely a frivolous social event, she wouldn’t have been attending

“Ahh, the French émigrés.” Mrs. Brompton raised her eyebrows but chose not to comment.

“The French émigrés are experiencing a backlash in England.” She channeled her frustration into her hands by waving them in the air. “The English fear Napoleon and project their anger onto anyone who is French.”

“Napoleon is the devil, causing all those young men’s deaths.”

“Why can’t the English people see that the émigrés aren’t at fault for Napoleon’s ambition to take over Europe?” Henrietta stooped to collect two partially gnawed sticks peeking out from under the heavy mahogany console in the hallway. “How is Gus able to unearth so many sticks from our garden?”

“Our Gus is a retriever of the best sort,” Mrs. Brompton replied affectionately. Gus was held in the highest regard by all for his constant devotion to Edward after their mother’s death.

“Uncle Charles may forget that I’m at Lady Chadwick’s and…” She paused.

Mrs. Brompton patted Henrietta on the arm. “Don’t worry about your Uncle Charles. I’ll not let him get into a dither about your whereabouts.”

“Uncle Charles and I’ve already discussed the plans for the afternoon. Edward and Mr. Marlow are planning to have tea with him. Military strategy will be the topic.”

“Master Edward loves all the talk of guns and soldiers as much as Uncle Charles.”

“It sounds as if Amelia has arrived.” Henrietta and Mrs. Brompton moved down the main steps toward the peals of laughter.

“Brompton, I’m convinced you’ve discovered the tonic of youth,” Henrietta’s childhood friend teased the elderly man.

“Thank you, my lady. It’s marriage to a fine woman that keeps me young.” Brompton spoke loudly, insuring his approaching wife would hear him.

“Alfred, don’t try to sweet talk me.” Mrs. Brompton’s words were matter of fact, but the wrinkles around her eyes crinkled.

Henrietta embraced Amelia. “What an interesting ensemble you’ve donned for the soiree.” Amelia wore a flowing, white gown with the fabric tied in knots at her shoulders.

“Do you like it? I’ve been experimenting with less structure. Our clothes should enhance movement, not hinder it. I’ve taken inspiration from the talks I suffered through with you on ancient Greece.”

“That you could be inspired to create this stunning gown from Professor Hardwick’s discussion of ancient Greek choruses is mind-boggling.”

Amelia examined the modified pale green muslin that Henrietta wore. “What have you done to your beautiful dress?”

She must have been crazy to believe for a minute that Amelia wouldn’t notice the changes she had made to her dress. “I had all the frippery removed. It was too much.” She had Alice, her maid, remove the large sash and bow in the back of the gown.

“Sometimes I don’t believe you’re French. Even Michael shows appreciation for fashion. Has he sent you the silks from France? He promised me a daring shade of purple.”

“He didn’t forget. They just arrived.” Hard as it was to hide her emotions from Amelia, Henrietta kept up the banter about Michael. “We’re late, but when we return I’ll give you the silk. I can’t wait to see what gown you’ll create from purple silk—not the color of choice for an unmarried woman.”

“Exactly why I choose it.”

As much as she wished to confide in Amelia, she couldn’t share her worries about Michael’s safety. Amelia had no idea of the secret work the Harcourt family did for the crown.

Linking arms, the friends departed Kendal House.

* * *

Henrietta and Amelia entered the crowded ballroom, maneuvering their way to the hostess. The scent of blooming hothouse roses and freesia filled the air in the heavily decorated room. Crocodile-footed couches, columns, and statues of Egyptian goddesses crowded the space. It seemed she couldn’t escape the Egyptian madness.