T
he inner alphabet on the cipher disk contains the original twenty-six letters,” Granville explained, pulling a stool up to the table in the museum’s studio. “And the exterior contains twenty-six numbers as well, plus the integers two through eight inclusive, for a total of thirty-three.”
“So the openings on this plate”—Darius tapped his finger on the drawing of a brass disk—“align both the plaintext and the ciphertext equivalents.”
“And the gears inside the box rotate the disks,” Granville said.
Both men peered at the diagrams as if they were maps to a hidden treasure.
Clara smiled slightly at the sight of them, furrows of concentration lining their foreheads. Though Darius needed the funds of a patron before constructing the machine and presenting it to the Home Office committee, he had enlisted Uncle Granville’s help in translating the diagrams. The men had spent all their time studying the plans in the two days since Clara and Sebastian’s wedding.
“The alphabet code is very precise,” Granville explained. “And it requires a different key word for each correspondent. Wait a moment. Let me get the notes I made about Monsieur Dupree’s calculations and we can see if they work.”
He left to return to his workshop. In the ensuing silence, Clara remembered Sebastian’s words, his declaration of love that wound through her like bright ribbons. Oh, how desperately she wanted to return the avowal, to admit to all the feelings that had been locked inside her for so many years—her youthful adoration now flourishing into a brilliant, richly complex love that both thrilled and frightened her. A love she could not yet acknowledge.
A shuddering breath escaped her. She looked at Darius, who was watching her across the misty sunlight. A hint of sympathy eased the impassivity of his features.
Clara swallowed and placed her sewing on a nearby table.
“Did Sebastian tell you about my son?” she asked.
Darius nodded. “He will help you in whatever way he can.”
“He already has.” A touch of nervousness wound through her. “Were you terribly shocked when he told you of our agreement?”
“No, because I know my brothers.” Darius rubbed a hand across his hair and studied the notebook in front of him. Behind his glasses, his eyes took on a distant cast. “Sebastian is not like Alexander or Nicholas. Or me, for that matter. Alexander forces things to fit the way he wants them to. Nicholas breaks them, if need be.”
“And you?” Clara asked.
Darius shrugged and leaned forward to make a notation on a page. “Sebastian is more…surreptitious,” he continued. “He used to merely charm people into doing what he wanted, but now it seems he needs to find a different approach. And he
will
find it, Clara, make no mistake. Loyalty is his greatest strength.”
A smile tugged at her mouth. “And his greatest weakness?”
“The same.”
“Why?”
He put the pencil down, a frown etched on his brow. “Because he sometimes finds it necessary to lie in order to protect those he loves.”
Clara knew he spoke of the way Sebastian had kept secret the infirmity of his hand, which Darius must have sensed even if he didn’t know the full truth. Yet Sebastian had told
her
about it shortly after her proposal, as if he knew the secret would be safe with her.
“Here it is.” Granville returned, his head bent as he leafed through a tattered notebook. “I expect one of these codes will work.”
He and Darius began conferring over the specifications again. Clara pushed up from her chair and went to the foyer, where Mrs. Fox sat penning numbers into her account books.
“Any word from Mr. Hall?” Clara asked.
“No, Mrs. Hall.” Mrs. Fox peered at her from above the half-moons of her reading glasses. “You said you were expecting him before supper, and it’s not yet tea.”
“Yes, I know.” Clara twisted her hands into her apron. Sebastian had gone to a meeting with his brother’s solicitor, Mr. Findlay, in order to finish the contract to convey Wakefield House to Lord Fairfax. As soon as the terms were established, and both Clara and Granville, as trustee, signed the papers, they could approach Fairfax with the proposal. Despite Clara’s wish to accompany Sebastian, he wanted to ensure the impermeability of the terms first before she and Granville reviewed the contract.
“You’ll let me know if he returns or sends a message?” she asked Mrs. Fox.
“Of course.” The other woman returned to her ledger.
Clara went into the drawing room and tried to busy herself by straightening the displays and testing a few of the automata. She twisted the key of a mechanical toy and watched a little bear beating on a drum. When it wound down, she turned it again.
Restlessness seethed in her, born of both Sebastian’s admission and the physical pleasure she had experienced at her husband’s touch. She could not reconcile the two most essential needs she had ever known—her desire for Sebastian and her desperation to have her son back. In allowing herself to surrender to the former, she feared she weakened the force of the latter.
And yet both heat and tenderness billowed through her every time she allowed herself to relive those moments in Sebastian’s arms, the flex of his muscles beneath her hands, the glide of flesh against flesh. The sensation of his heart beating against hers.
“Mrs. Hall?” Mrs. Fox’s voice came from the doorway. “A visitor has just arrived.”
Clara forced down the tangle of emotions and schooled her features into impassivity before she turned to face Mrs. Fox.
“Have they requested a tour?” she asked.
“She has requested to speak with you,” Mrs. Fox replied, her severe expression mitigated by a faint air of confusion.
With a frown, Clara followed her to the foyer. A tall, dark-haired woman, clad in a plain black cloak and hat, stood beside the desk. Her large, dark eyes were framed by thick eyelashes, and her skin appeared bronzed from the sun.
The instant Clara met her gaze, she knew the identity of the woman. Her heart crashed against her ribs as she stepped forward.
“Mrs.…?” Her voice faltered.
“Leskovna.” The woman extended an elegant hand, her eyes sweeping Clara from head to toe. “You are Mrs. Sebastian Hall?”
“I am.”
A strained silence fell. Mrs. Fox cleared her throat delicately.
“Mrs. Hall, if you’d care to bring your guest into the parlor, I will have tea brought in.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Mrs. Fox.” Grateful for the direction, Clara gestured for Sebastian’s mother to follow her and closed the door behind them. “Mrs. Leskovna, I’m glad to make your acquaintance. Darius is in the studio with my uncle, but I’m afraid Sebastian isn’t here.”
“I know. It’s the only reason I dared visit you.” Catherine Leskovna tugged off her gloves. She cast a glance around at the automata and mechanical toys. “I feared Sebastian might have me thrown out otherwise.”
Clara’s chest constricted as she murmured, “He wouldn’t do that.”
Yet her words did not have the ring of conviction, and clearly Catherine sensed its lack. Clara waited, guarded, uncertain of the reason the woman would have come here knowing Sebastian was elsewhere.
“I’m certain you know the reasons my children have renounced me,” Catherine said. “When I heard about Sebastian’s resignation from Weimar, I could not believe it. I was convinced something disastrous had befallen him. Sebastian would never abandon his patrons and supporters on the basis of a disagreement over his work. I had to learn the truth of what had happened to him.”
“Why did you not approach him first, then?”
“If I’d thought he would speak to me, I would have. And perhaps he might have considered it, were he not so loyal to Alexander. Even as children, he and Alexander had a bond that would not be broken. And I know…” She paused and looked down at the floor, only the slight tremble in her voice disclosing her emotions. “I know Alexander has forsaken my very existence. Sebastian would not betray his brother by opening the door to me.”
“Yet Darius did.”
Catherine gave a sad smile. “Darius is ruled by his head rather than his heart. Not unlike his father. Though he might feel hurt by my actions, Darius would not allow his emotions to overrule his intellectual curiosity. Not to mention his appreciation of a good challenge. And so when I approached him and explained the situation, he conceded to my request. Yet Sebastian continues to refuse a meeting with me.”
“Surely you understand the reasons why.”
“Yes. But I cannot remain in London much longer, Mrs. Hall. I am aware of the scandal I created, and in its aftermath I thought I would leave England forever. Certainly that was the least I could do considering the wreckage I created. I returned solely for the purpose of seeing Sebastian again, but I will not allow my presence here to cause renewed gossip.”
A brief knock announced Mrs. Marshall arriving with the tea tray. After the housekeeper left, Clara poured the tea and sat back to study Sebastian’s mother. Catherine Leskovna had lost the refined elegance of a countess, but she possessed a kind of self-assurance, a calmness, that seemed at odds with the disgrace of her infidelity.
Though Clara had encouraged Sebastian to visit his mother, a flare of anger swept through her chest suddenly. How dare Catherine Leskovna not flay herself with remorse over what she had done? How dare she sit here with such graceful stillness, as if she did not regret anything? How dare she seem to be
at peace
?
Clara’s fingers tightened on her cup. “Why are you so insistent upon seeing Sebastian? Haven’t you caused him enough pain?”
Catherine lowered her gaze to her teacup, concealing whatever reaction she had to the barbed question. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Of all five of my children, Sebastian is the one most likely to understand why I did what I did.”
“Why Sebastian?”
“Because he has always followed his heart, his instincts, regardless of what people have said. He has always been so confident in his decisions. In his place in the world. He has never done anything unless he was certain he wanted to.”
Clara’s throat tightened as she remembered Sebastian’s words of love. Even when she first proposed, had he truly wanted to marry her? Had he followed his heart?
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her own heart, which had taken such a tangled, labyrinthine path during the past year. She had once believed that path could lead her only to Andrew, but now she had to confront the very real possibility that Sebastian, too, stood at the end of her heart’s journey.
But at what cost to Andrew?
Clara blinked away the sting of tears. “Do…do you think Sebastian could be a liaison to your other children, then?” she asked. “That if you make him understand your decisions, he might defend you to the rest of them?”
“No. I need no one to defend me, Mrs. Hall. I’ve long become accustomed to doing that myself.”
A somewhat unwelcome twist of admiration went through Clara as she met the other woman’s resolute gaze. “Then why are you here?”
“When Darius told me Sebastian had married at Rushton’s urging, I couldn’t help but wonder if this union was somehow related to the reason he left Weimar.” Catherine took a sip of tea. “Forgive me, but neither his resignation nor his marriage accord with the man I know Sebastian to be.”
“Perhaps he’s changed.” Clara set her cup down and paced to the windows, her shoulders stiff with tension. “Do you believe he resigned from Weimar because of our marriage?”
“Did he?”
“He resigned last spring, Mrs. Leskovna. I knew Sebastian when I was younger, but did not make his acquaintance again until recently. No. I had nothing to do with his resignation.”
A mild surprise flashed in the other woman’s eyes. “I didn’t think
you
had a hand in it, Mrs. Hall. I was speaking of your father.”
“My…my father?”
“Forgive me for recalling that he was not the kindest of men.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“I knew your mother, Mrs. Hall.”
Clara’s knees weakened as shock bolted through her. She sank into a chair, buffeted by a sudden rush of memories. “I…I was not aware of that.”
“We were not close friends, but we shared an interest in several of the same charities and saw each other often at various meetings and teas. I regret to say that the other ladies often remarked on Lord Fairfax’s reputation, though your mother had the grace never to discuss personal matters. I found her to be a kind and thoughtful woman, Mrs. Hall. So did many other ladies of my acquaintance.”
Clara’s jaw tightened as she struggled against another wash of tears. She nodded her gratitude, not trusting herself to speak.
“So when Darius told me Sebastian had married you rather suddenly,” Catherine continued, “I remembered both your mother and the rumors about your father. And while I fully recognize this is none of my business, especially in the shadow of my own decisions, I was concerned about Lord Fairfax’s hand in your hasty engagement.”
“My father did have a hand in our engagement,” Clara admitted, forcing the words past her tight throat. “Though not in the way you think.”
With images of her mother flowing through her mind, Clara found herself confessing everything to Catherine Leskovna—Richard’s death, the will that had granted Fairfax custody of Andrew, Wakefield House, and the reasons behind her proposal to Sebastian. Catherine listened without expression, but smiled when Clara explained that Sebastian had agreed to marry her in part to satisfy his father’s ultimatum.
“I believe Lord Rushton capable of such an ultimatum,” Catherine said. “But Sebastian would not have agreed to marry you had he not wanted to, regardless of Rushton’s threats. I hope you know that.”
Clara did. She’d known the moment Sebastian told her their union would be both real and permanent. And in a very secret corner of her heart, Clara had wanted that too.
“Have you asked for Rushton’s assistance in the matter with your father?” Catherine asked.
“No. Sebastian would not hear of it.”
“No, I imagine he wouldn’t.” A crease marred Catherine’s forehead. “I wish I could offer you advice or assistance, but I’ve lost whatever connections I possessed in London. And I don’t dare contact anyone lest I cause trouble for Darius. I owe him a great deal.”