The King's Code (The Lady Spies Series #3): A Regency Historical Romance (16 page)

~

Juliet
began her own investigation in the only place she could think to look.

“That’s him.” She nodded at the clerk of the
London Herald
and watched her footmen approach the man as he locked the office door.

The three men had words and then the clerk was being guided to Juliet’s waiting carriage. No doubt lured by the money Juliet had instructed her footmen to offer the man if he joined her.

The thin clerk stepped into her conveyance, followed by one of her footmen.

Juliet smiled at the man, asking, “Do you mind if we drive while we talk?”

“Your coin, isn’t it,” the greedy clerk said.

“Quite.” Juliet tried to ignore the smirk on his smarmy face, ordering the carriage forward. As they began to move, Juliet stared at the clerk and chose her words wisely. “I have noticed that your publication during the last month or so has made several printing errors.”

The clerk shrugged, smiling with condescension. “Happens all the time, miss a letter here—”

“Add an E there.”

The man stilled and Juliet knew that she had him. “I don’t print the papers, my lady.”

“But you do give the articles to the printers.”

“Who did you say you was?” the clerk asked and Juliet lied.

“I am a representative of Whitehall who is interested in the identity of the man who paid you to print the E error in those articles.”

The clerk went white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Juliet leaned forward, surprised by her anger, and said through clenched teeth, “May I remind you that we are at war and that you can be hanged for what you are doing.”

“Hanged?” The man looked at the two footmen. “For printing a bloody E in me paper!”

“For selling British military secrets to the French.”

The clerk swallowed, his eyes reflecting his shock. “I didn’t know what he was doing, I swear it.”

“Who?” Juliet hid her excitement.

The clerk looked around her carriage as he thought, considered. “No.” He shook his head adamantly. “I don’t know his name. No.”

Juliet could see the fear in the clerk’s eyes and she tried to reason with him. “This man may be dangerous but he is nowhere near as dangerous as the full force of the British Empire.”

Juliet watched the clerk, sensing how very close she was to learning the identity of the French cryptographer.

“No, I don’t know his name.” The clerk was shaking his head and Juliet knew that she had lost.

Damnation!

She smiled, frustrated, and quickly altered her plan. “I can see that you are afraid of this man,” Juliet said, taking on the role of the sympathetic lady. “I shall give you three days to think about what you have done. What this man is doing to the soldiers dying for our country.”

“Three days?”

“Yes, I shall return next week and we can discuss what is to be done.”

“Thank you,” the clerk said, grinning as if he had just fleeced her without her knowing.

Juliet smiled back as they rolled to a stop in front of the
Herald
, having come full circle. “No, thank
you
, sir. For I know you shall make the right decision come Monday.”

The clerk descended onto the walkway and they drove on. Juliet looked at her footmen, still sitting in the carriage.

“Stop at the corner and follow him,” Juliet said. Knowing that this was well beyond their duties, she added, “And do be careful.”

The footmen looked at one another and chuckled at her concern as they checked their pistols to verify that they were loaded. They stepped down from the landau and Juliet drove on, wondering if she should go to the Foreign Office and speak with Falcon.

And tell him what?

That a clerk at the
London Herald
might know the cryptographer’s identity? No, better to have the man followed and see what became of her investigation.

It was a calculated risk to contact the clerk. In the end, however, Juliet had reasoned that the man would give up the name of the French cryptographer or lead her to him. Either way, she would be able to go to Falcon and his arrogant underling and inform them that she had found the Frenchman on her own.

Juliet smiled at the thought and walked to her sitting room the moment she arrived home.

“I’m back, Anne. How long until dinnertime?” Juliet looked at the stack of unread newspapers by her chaise.

“Two hours.”

“Excellent, can you come back in an hour and assist me in dressing?”

“Of course, my lady.” Her maid curtsied and left Juliet to her mountain of reading.

Twenty minutes into her research Juliet raised her brows to keep her eyes from closing. The fire was warm and all of this tedious reading was making her decidedly sleepy. She would just finish the
London Times
and have a quick nap before Anne returned to dress her for dinner.

She turned the page and yawned. Two pages and she would be finished. Juliet forced herself to keep looking for patterns when her drowsy eyes snapped open. She scanned the article she was reading and was shocked to find not one but six E anomalies within the same article.

Six!

Why on earth would the cryptographer place more than one marker in the same—

“McCurren!” Juliet groaned to herself.

Juliet grabbed her pelisse and gloves and left the house, dinner completely forgotten.

≈

“Are you dim-witted?” Seamus heard from the study door as he read. He looked up, and upon seeing Juliet Pervill, he exhaled in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The butler lowered his head in shame.

Seamus rose from his favorite chair and just stared at the woman who shouldn’t be there. “William, the lady is all of five foot and . . .” He looked at Juliet. “How tall are you?”

“Three inches.”

“Five foot, three inches!” She waited patiently for him to finish dressing down his butler. “And she weighs all of seven stone!”

Juliet snorted.

“And still you cannot keep the woman out of my house?”

She began walking around his library, calmly examining his books and totally unconcerned by his ire.

“She threatened to—”

Seamus was only half listening, distracted by Juliet’s leisurely wanderings. Her swaying hips, her meandering walk.

“I don’t care what Lady Juliet has threatened to do.” Seamus threw his hands in the direction of the study door, saying, “Toss her out.”

“I think you will want to hear what I have to say.” Juliet dropped into his favorite chair and placed the
London Times
in her lap as if his threat to have her dragged from the room were somehow boring her.

Seamus raised a brow, peering closely at the paper and seeing that Juliet had read his article.

“Leave us,” he ordered his butler and then looked at the small woman. “Why did you inquire if I were dim-witted?” he asked the one person in London who could label him as such.

“Because, Mister McCurren,” she began, “you have just placed six anomalies in the same article of the
London Times
.”

“Did I?” Seamus smiled, enjoying her irritation. “How do you know that it was I who placed the anomalies?” He swept his eyes over her, curious as to her method.

“Mathematic probability.”

“Explain?” he asked, sitting on the ottoman.

He looked at her if she were speaking Greek or rather one of the few languages that he did not understand.

God, but the lass was pretty.

“James Habernathy”—she held out one little finger— “you”—a second—“and I”—a third finger—“are the only people who knew in which order the markers were being published. Therefore,” she reasoned, “we are the only three who knew which publication would be printing the marker this week.”

“Did you ask James if he printed the anomaly?” Seamus inquired, enjoying their game and trying not to notice the elegant curve of her neck.

“No, I have not asked Mister Habernathy.” The lass rolled her big blue eyes. “Nor have I asked the French cryptographer if he managed to muck up his own code.”

“All right, yes,” Seamus admitted. “I hired a man at the
Times
to read all articles submitted for publication. If he found one containing an E, he was to add an E to every paragraph of the article.” He shrugged arrogantly, not seeing a problem. “Now that we know their method of relaying information, we can disrupt it.”

“I need to know which anomaly is the Frenchman’s so that I can analyze it against the other articles.”

Seamus stared at her, furious. “You no longer work for the Foreign Office, Juliet.”

“Thanks to you.” The lass stared back and continued speaking as she rose. “And while your methodology of disrupting the code is extremely effective in the short term, the French will undoubtedly counter.”

“How?” He stood. The intellectual in him had to know.

“As much as the Foreign Office would like to believe this cryptographer a stupid man, he is not.” Seamus just stared at her. “The simplicity of his code rather brilliantly allows for variances of markers and retrieval sites.

“Therefore . . .” Juliet looked up at him, teaching him the error of his ways. “By disrupting his code just this once, you have effectively lost the opportunity for the Foreign Office to observe those four markers forever.” His brows furrowed. “Seamus, you have just told the cryptographer that we are investigating his code and he will change all markers and retrieval sites as soon as is possible.”

“I realized that, Juliet,” Seamus said, annoyed by her condescension. “However, my main concern is with disrupting the flow of information.”

“And if
I
were the cryptographer, I would find out who was disrupting it.” She stared at him and for the briefest of moments he saw fear in her lovely eyes. “Promise me that you will be careful, Seamus?”

“The French will be forced to dispatch a man to the
Times
to investigate,” Seamus said, ignoring her so that he might hide his sense of gratification for her concern. “I’ll inform Falcon of the opportunity first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I agree.” Juliet nodded, distracted as she gazed at his lips, clearly remembering their last encounter. “I’ve also spoken with . . .”

The lass blinked, and seeing the look of a woman who had said more than she should have, he demanded, “Whom did you speak with, Juliet?”

“Falcon.” They stared at each other, both knowing she was lying.

Seamus put both of his hands on her cheeks, fear clogging his throat. “Please tell me you are not investigating this code on your own, Juliet,” he ordered more than asked.

“How could I?” She stepped out of his grasp. “I no longer work for the Foreign Office.”

Seamus stared at her, too familiar with her mind to be fooled. “You did not answer the question.”

“What if I am investigating the code?” Juliet shrugged, seeing no reason to deny it. “I am no longer working for the Foreign Office and therefore am not subject to its dictates.” She met his eyes pointedly. “Nor yours.”

“Juliet,” Seamus said, his alarm cloaked by anger. “If you continue to investigate this cryptographer, I will have you arrested.”

Her eyes turned to slits of blue ice. “You would not dare!”

“Oh, yes.” Seamus lifted her chin with one finger so that she would see his determination to protect her. “I would.”

They stared at one another for a very long time and Juliet called his bluff. “You don’t have the authority to have me arrested.”

“I would get it,” he said. “You know that I can.”

“How?”

“I would inform Falcon that you are interfering with the investigation. After all”—Seamus smiled—“you did just place these six anomalies in the
London Times
.”

Her beautiful mouth fell open when she saw that he was serious. He would have kissed her if he was not quite certain that Juliet would bite straight through his bottom lip.

“That is not amusing, Seamus.”

“It was not meant to be, Juliet.”

It was meant to keep her safe, protected. But increasingly Seamus felt that he was the one who needed to protect himself from Juliet Pervill.

“Fine,” she said and turned toward his study door.

“Fine?” Seamus repeated on a rush of air. “What the hell does that mean?”

She shrugged her pretty shoulders dismissively. “I’ll not investigate the cryptographer.” Her eyes gleamed with defiance and he knew instantly that she had something else in mind.

“Juliet!” Seamus growled at her. “What are you planning to do?”

“Good evening, Mister McCurren.”

≈

The Welshman watched the lovely Juliet Pervill leave Seamus McCurren’s home, her head lifted in defiance as the Scot glared at her from his front door.