Wedding In Springtime(19)

"What is that?" asked Grant.

"Why are these men here?" asked Neville, pointing at Grant and Thornton.  "They are not government agents. They have no business here."

"They are my friends," said Marchford in a quiet tone that crackled with authority.

Neville glowered under bushy eyebrows but said no more.

"The letters were written in code," said the admiral. "The code is  contained in this envelope. I had one made myself, did not trust the  Foreign Office. Without this, those letters are useless."

"Our people should still be warned," said Neville, taking out a small notebook.

"And so they shall, but not by you," said the admiral. "These are my men. I will see to their safety."

Neville's eyebrows once again slammed down over his eyes. "But what  about the code? It cannot stay here; surely you must see that."

"Yes," conceded the admiral. "I suppose you are right."

Mr. Neville stood and stretched out his hand for the envelope.

"Marchford," said the admiral. "There is no man I trust more. Will you keep this safe?"

"Yes, Admiral," said Marchford, taking the envelope, even as Neville sputtered.

"This is exactly the sort of thing that must not happen. Private  residences are not a safe place for information of vital importance to  the Crown."

"Plug your own leak, Neville," demanded the admiral. "Until then, I'll not trust your office."

Neville stood up straight, reaching his full, albeit diminutive height.  "I will need to interview each member of your staff, and I will need a  full guest list. Let us at least acknowledge the painful truth that a  member of your staff or a guest in your home is a thief working for our  enemy."

The admiral's shoulders sagged. The truth was undeniable. "Yes, yes, of course. Lady Devine will provide you this information."

Grant bowed his way out of the room and left with his friends.

"Such excitement!" declared Grant. "And I thought debutante balls were a bore. Why, nothing could be further from the truth!"

"I'm so glad the drama could serve for your amusement," replied Marchford.

"It does not appear to have pleased you, my friend."

"No, indeed," said Marchford lowering his voice, "for it is likely that  someone on the guest list is a spy, and I will, no doubt, be the next  target."

***

"What do you mean you do not have the code?" A delicate figurine launched through the air and smashed to slivers on the hearth.

"I brought you exactly what you asked for," the spy defended himself,  stepping to the side as a vase was hurled toward his head. It smashed on  the floor behind him.         

     



 

"Not good enough! How am I to read this gibberish without the damned code?"

The man ducked as a plate was flung at him.

"Now get me that code. I cannot hold my patience for long!"

If this was patient, the spy was loathe to see angry, and yet getting  the code would prove problematic. "The code was given to the Duke of  Marchford. He runs his house like a vault. The servants are above  bribery, I've tried. He has a footman on guard in the study where I  suspect the code is being kept. He even has a man sleeping in the  study."

"I do not care to hear your petty problems. Every man can be bribed or  killed. Do not tell me that a mere footman is going to prevent  Napoleon's victory."

"It is not just the footman. The butler keeps the front door locked. There is no way in!"

A red hot poker was removed from the fire and slowly raised level with  the spy's eyes. "Smash the window, poison the footman, bribe a visitor,  blackmail a lover, I don't care how you do it, but bring me that code!"





Thirteen


"You can do this."

"Pardon?" asked Marchford.

"You look apprehensive. Thought you needed encouragement," said Grant with a sly smile.

"I am fine. We will pay a morning call on Lady Louisa and then continue  to Tattersall's. Unless you would like to go there directly, I do not  wish to impose on your time."

Grant laughed. "Oh no, you are not getting out of speaking with your  fiancée that easily. Besides, what have I to do? I am utterly at my  leisure."

"Remind me to do something about that," muttered Marchford.

They pulled up outside the Bremerton household and handed the reins of  the barouche to Marchford's tiger, who had jumped down from the back in a  flash. They entered the house and were ushered into a formal sitting  room.

Lady Bremerton met them with a wide smile. Marchford's prospective bride  barely acknowledged him. Grant easily procured a chair for himself next  to the lovely Miss Talbot and abandoned Marchford to pursue awkward  conversation with Lady Bremerton.

"I hope you enjoyed the ball, Miss Talbot," said Grant in a tone he knew  would raise an eyebrow from his mother, or any mother, for that matter.

"It was indeed an enjoyable event," said Genie without rising to the  bait of his seductive tone. "Did you have an enjoyable evening, Your  Grace?" Genie asked Marchford. If Grant hoped to monopolize her  conversation, he was doomed to disappointment.

"Yes, enjoyable evening," said Marchford in a flat tone that conveyed it had been anything but.

Silence fell briefly, but Genie picked up the conversation with a  determined smile. "I believe you were quite successful at cards, Aunt."

"Silly girl, you ought not speak of such things," chastised Lady  Bremerton. "But since we are all almost family, I will only say that I  had a fine evening. Lady …  well that's not important, she fancied herself  quite the card player, but she left disappointed. Some of those ladies  were betting deep, let me tell you. People think it is the man who is  susceptible to gambling, but I have seen evidence to the contrary."

"Certainly, I can tell you often it is the lady of the house who runs afoul of her vowels," added Grant.

"Vowels?" asked Genie.

"A gambler's term for IOUs," explained Grant with a wink to Lady Bremerton.

"Honestly, Mr. Grant, you ought not speak of such things to Genie. She is backward enough as it is."

Grant glanced at Genie, but she accepted the insult without qualm. He  got the distinct impression her aunt was frequently critical. He did not  care for the way Genie's quiet acceptance made her eyes dim. He did not  care for it at all.

"Shall we all go for a ride in the park?" he asked, surprising nobody  more than himself. He could not remember the last time he did anything  as flat as taking ladies for a ride in the park.

Marchford raised an eyebrow at him. "A ride in the park?"

"Why yes, it is a lovely day for it," exclaimed Lady Bremerton, ignoring the dark clouds framed in the window before her.

"I believe a ride in the park would suit me. Do let's go, Cousin," said Genie, lending support to Grant's scheme.

Lady Bremerton encouraged all the young people to go along, while bowing  out of the ride herself. It was rare that Grant found himself on the  same side as a marriage-minded matriarch, but in this case, his plan to  provide Genie some time to escape the house coincided nicely with Lady  Bremerton's goals of putting her daughter into Marchford's company.

Several minutes later, they were seated in the stylish barouche, open to  the weather, trying to ignore the brisk wind and the drop in  temperature. It may have been late spring, but the London weather could  be unpredictable, and Grant hoped to have some time with the ladies  before encroaching rain put an end to the proceedings.         

     



 

During the short ride to St. James Park, it was clear Grant and Genie  were going to be responsible for the majority of the conversation.  Marchford responded only when directly called upon to do so, and Lady  Louisa spoke not at all.

When they arrived in the park, Genie declared her interest in taking a  stroll, so the entire party alighted while the groom walked the horses.

"Shall we walk the length of the canal to the ordnance?" asked Genie. "I  read in a guidebook that on the north side is a Turkish piece of  ordnance brought here by the British Army and I have been desirous to  see it."

"It is too far," stated Louisa, revealing that she could speak after all, if only to shorten the excursion.

"Surely it cannot be as far as all that," protested Genie with a winning  smile. "My guidebook also suggests venturing into the garden to see the  landscaping. It says it must not be missed. Perhaps I could walk ahead,  for I am a fast walker and I'm sure I could return soon."

Grant paused a moment at this speech. Fast walker? This was St. James.  People came to be seen, not to rush about in an uncivilized manner. Yet  for all her lack of polish, Miss Talbot was a vision to behold, so he  said, "I shall walk, er, quickly with Miss Talbot, and we shall return  in a trice."

Before either Marchford or Louisa could offer protest, Grant offered  Genie his arm and they sallied forth, leaving the inarticulate affianced  in their wake. Fortunately for Grant's sensibilities, Genie's pace was  only slightly faster than was socially acceptable and she showed no  tendency to scamper.