A Cantata of Love (The Code Breakers 4) Read online

  Since her questions were rhetorical, Michael pointed to the music. “To understand the message, you have to read both lines. Let’s use the first bar of music. The eighth note is on the G pitch. But the second note is a quarter note, which signals that you must switch the pitches to the second half of the alphabet, H to N, giving you an L on the pitch. Then a half note is for the alphabet O through U, and so on. This bar of music spells ‘gloves.’”

  Gabby sat straighter and tried to smooth her wrinkled gown. “How long have I been asleep that you could figure out the code and read the messages?”

  “Not more than two hours. I haven’t gotten through the entire cantata.”

  “Impressive, my boy. No wonder my brother-in-law considers you a national treasure.”

  Michael didn’t know where to look when both ladies smiled at him like a prized hog at the town fair. “It really is like a giant puzzle. Nothing that difficult.”

  He glanced back at Gabby whose eyes locked onto his with loving admiration.

  “Well, don’t keep us in suspense. What is their plan?” Aunt Euphemia piled cheese and a sliced of beef on bread. “Where is Morley?”

  And as before, Morley knocked and entered at the mention of his name. “May I be of service?”

  “Morley, we need hot water. These children never got to their tea. I can’t imagine why,” Aunt Euphemia’s gravelly voice teased.

  Michael shifted in his chair. Aunt Euphemia was turning out to be more of a surprise than he had expected.

  “I’ll see to it right away, my lady.” And Morley quietly closed the door.

  Aunt Euphemia chewed around her bite. “You were saying?”

  “The first message is ‘A man on Mount Street in Mayfair who will deliver the gloves.’”

  “But the king’s gloves are from Gieves & Hawkes in Piccadilly.” Aunt Euphemia put her bread down and turned to look at Michael.

  “There is also a mention of cyanide.”

  “Interesting. Cyanide is deadly on the skin. I’ve used…” Aunt Euphemia reached for a lemon tart. “Never mind.”

  “Are they planning to use cyanide in the gloves?” Gabby asked.

  “But cyanide has a definite odor. Wouldn’t the king or his valet detect the odor?” Aunt Euphemia looked up at the ceiling pondering the problem. “Of course they would have to hide the scent.”

  “The king’s gloves are scented to prevent the possibility of him ever smelling any foul or sour odors,” Michael added.

  Aunt Euphemia’s rheumy eyes danced. “And Mount Street.”

  Michael interjected. “Is where the Royal Perfumery resides.”

  “You must get this information to Cord immediately.”

  “I had hoped to figure out the exact dates for their plan, but now that we have an idea of their plan, I will depart.”

  “Good job, Kendal. Rathbourne and his men will take over once you finish with the deciphering.”

  “Will Lord Rathbourne arrest Madame Abney’s husband?” Gabby asked.

  “It will be up to my nephew whether he’ll stop the messages or possibly convince Madame Abney’s husband to send a few of our own messages. It would be difficult not to exploit the potential of this situation. I will discuss this further with my nephew. I’d planned on visiting Charles and Edward this afternoon. I’ve been quite fond of both those rascals, and of course dear Gus and I share the same affection for tea trays.”

  “But those men tried to kill Gabby. Surely Rathbourne will take them into custody,” Michael said.

  Aunt Euphemia sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. She spoke gravely. “Are you sure those are the men? I’m not as convinced as my nephew. Something doesn’t feel right about this whole business with Gabby.”

  The fine hairs on Michael’s neck prickled in portent. Tension tingled along his spine. Gabby needed to be protected.

  Aunt Euphemia cleared her throat. “I’m in need of tea to contemplate all the possibilities. Where is Morley with the hot water?”

  And magically, Morley entered with a teapot. “If I didn’t know better, Morley, I’d believe you were listening at the door.” Aunt Euphemia chuckled. “Lord Kendal is riding to Rathbourne House. I want two men to ride with him.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Michael stiffened. “Aunt Euphemia, I don’t think it is necessary.”

  “My boy, you, with the help of Gabby, have just stopped a plot to kill our king and you are carrying the proof with you. You must trust me on this. You and Gabby are at risk. And you will be well-protected until this whole business is concluded.”

  By the way Aunt Euphemia’s jowly chin jutted and her voice grew severe, he believed she was capable of commanding anyone to do her bidding.

  Michael stood, went to the desk, and packed up the music into a folder.

  He wanted to kiss Gabby good-bye, but instead took her small hand into his and pressed a kiss. “You are to rest. Cancel whatever plans Lady Gwyneth has for you.”

  “Tonight is Lady Appleton’s musical. And isn’t it important that I act like last night was an accident? And continue the charade with Lord Weston?”

  Of course Gabby was right, but it didn’t help the cold dread and panic churning through him. The only way to stop the madness was for her to make herself a target again. His heart beat harder, faster just thinking of the possibilities.

  He hadn’t released Gabby’s hand. He smiled down at her, giving her his best wide grin since he didn’t want her to detect his concern. “Please, spare me. Not more music.”

  He didn’t get the returning smile he had hoped. Her blue eyes were wide and teary.

  “Please be careful.” Gabby’s hands were shaking. “If anything happened to you…”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me. I’ve got Morley and his men guarding me. Isn’t that so, Aunt Euphemia?”

  “Don’t make light of the danger.”

  “I will be fine and I will see you tonight at Lady Appleton’s. But when this is finished I’m going to tear Weston apart.”

  “But we don’t know if he has any part in the threats,” Gabby said.

  Michael knew he was being totally irrational. But his need to act, not wait for another threat against Gabby, was pushing him to violence. “I don’t care. I’m still going to tear him apart. It will make me feel better.”

  Gabby giggled. “Men and their problem-solving.”

  Aunt Euphemia added, “It’s exactly why our country is constantly at war. If women had a say in the running of governments…”

  Michael made a hasty retreat. He had to deliver the messages to Rathbourne to get this whole damn business settled, to finish the threats against Gabby.

  He nodded to Aunt Euphemia and left Gabby.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Lady Sabine Sauvage, wearing only a black negligee cut to her navel and a jet beaded choker, served him a brandy. With each step she took toward him, the thigh-high slit of her silk nightgown revealed her slim leg. How twisted and desperate his world had become. A woman he had used sexually in the past for relief from his own darkness was now his strongest ally. When Sabine believed he was dead, she had tried to protect Gabrielle from the English by sending her a note and meeting with her. And now he had to trust Sabine with his well-guarded secrets.

  “What has happened tonight to cause such a killing scowl?” She sat across from him on the sofa, knowing not to come close when he was in a rage.

  “I almost had him.” After months of waiting, he was moments and inches from choking the life out of the bastard. He clenched and unclenched his hands. The feel of revenge vibrated in every sinew of his being.

  “The bastard swung from the ropes before I could get to him. He tried to kill her backstage at the opera.”

  After last night’s attempt on Gabrielle’s life, he didn’t want a fast death for the bastard, he wanted to have him suffer for hours, days, weeks in pain the same way he had.

  “Your murderous black looks don’t put me of
f.” She stretched her foot to his crotch and rubbed along his length. “In fact, I find them quite stimulating.”

  Sabine thought she was daring because she liked the lash of the whip across her bare ass. The pampered aristocratic woman knew nothing of pain or suffering.

  The constant pain from his injury had changed and etched him into a cruel bastard. He needed Gabrielle. She’d bring him back into the light.

  He brushed her foot away and stood. He wasn’t in the mood for sex games. “With all the English guarding her, I’m going to need your help to draw him out.”

  “You’re being so vague, darling. Who is he? And how will I draw him out?”

  “You won’t draw him out. Gabrielle will draw him out. You will entice Weston to bring Gabrielle to the grotto at the Appleton’s estate.”

  “But as you said, she is well-guarded. How will Weston draw her away from the guards?”

  “I’m going to create a diversion enabling Weston to bring her to the grotto. It will give Anatole opportunity to try to kill her. And then I’ll have him.”

  “Anatole?”

  “Fouché’s assassin. Fouché has sent him to kill Gabrielle to cover his tracks, his sins against Napoleon. If Napoleon ever found out about Fouché’s perfidy, he’d be a dead man.”

  “I’m still confused. You want to kill Anatole, Fouché’s assassin? I thought all this business was to remove Mademoiselle from London?”

  “Trust me, you get Weston to bring Gabrielle to the grotto. And I will do the rest.”

  “But how will Weston induce her to leave the party?”

  “He will tell her if she doesn’t come, Lady Gwyneth will die.”

  “Lady Gwyneth. You’re going to kill Lady Gwyneth? I refuse to be part of killing a lady.”

  He laughed. The sound was brittle and empty like his black soul. “I’m not going to kill Rathbourne’s sister. It is a ruse. Weston will tell Gabrielle that she must come or Lady Gwyneth will die. Gabrielle is a loyal French woman. She’ll risk her own life for a friend.”

  “And what do I get for all my trouble?” She leaned toward him to give him a full view of her mauve nipples on her pendulous breasts, erect in her excitement.

  “What you deserve. A severe punishment.” He’d play Sabine’s games one last time before it was finished. Before he had Gabrielle.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Sipping champagne, Gabby and Gwyneth stood together near the open windows to escape the hot and stuffy ballroom, avoiding the crowd gathered at the refreshment tables. Lord Weston, playing the part of the devoted suitor, had already brought them champagne. Gabby, needing to keep up the pretense of enjoying Lord Weston’s company, was grateful when another man waylaid the villain. Anxiety played upon her nerves, heightening all her senses, making her jittery. Could she keep up the sham and play her part tonight?

  “You look weary. Are you sure you’re up for another night of intrigue?” Gwyneth asked, her midnight eyes alight.

  “I am tired, tired of this entire business. I’m willing to do anything to end the danger to everyone I care about. Last night if you and Amelia hadn’t moved to look at the backcloth…” An icy shudder wracked through her. “You, or possibly Michael, could have been hit. You’re all in danger because of me.”

  “But we weren’t injured. And I’m grateful for the diversion in an otherwise very boring round of social requirements. Ash is involved in intrigue and espionage, and I’m supposed to be thrilled to say the same things repeatedly, each night, to the same people.” Tonight Gwyneth resembled a pagan goddess in her crimson silk dress, with her raven hair flowing around shoulders, held only by a diamond clip at her temple. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to minister to your wounds. But once I saw that he had missed you, I chased him.”

  “You chased after the man who tried to kill me?”

  “No, I ran after the other man who was on the scaffolding.”

  Gabby stepped back to look at her friend. “Michael told me there were two men. But why in heaven’s name would you pursue him? He obviously was dangerous.”

  “Because he was getting away while everyone else chased your assailant. It was chaos and I spotted him jumping from the scaffolding and running toward the stage door. My gown slowed me down or I would have caught him. He ran out of the stage door and disappeared in the alley.”

  “But what if instead of running, he had turned and confronted you. He might have killed you.” Gabby couldn’t breathe around the fear knotting in her chest by the danger her dear friend courted.

  “That is exactly what my husband said.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Gabby pressed her hand on her chest as if to stop the pounding. “Ash must have been livid about the risk you took.”

  “He was a little bit upset.” Gwyneth rolled her roguish black eyes. “But, as I pointed out to him, I had my pistol ready to stop the crook. And I’m a deadly shot.”

  Gabby took Gwyneth’s arm. “You shouldn’t take such chances. I hate that I’ve involved you and Amelia in peril.”

  “I was made to take risks. My soul will shrivel up and die if I’m not involved in intrigue. It’s in my blood. As you now know, my brother and my aunt have been doing this work for years, and I am no different. You have your music, Amelia has her art, and I have espionage.”

  Gabby stared at her friend, trying to take in Gwyneth’s glib remark. “But I can’t imagine Ash allowing you to put yourself in treacherous situations.”

  “It is the one down side of having a husband. They do put a damper on one’s fun.” Gwyneth threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, my goodness.” She raised her hand to her head. All color drained from her face.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m not sure. The room is starting to spin.” Gwyneth swooned backward.

  Gabby wrapped her arm around Gwyneth’s back. “Lean on me. I’ll escort you to the ladies’ retiring room.”

  Gwyneth’s champagne glass fell out of her hand and crashed to the floor. There were gasps while everyone in the ballroom turned to the clatter.

  “Everything is going black. It must be in the champagne.” Gwyneth collapsed, folding into a heap. Gabby couldn’t hold up the larger woman who was now limp against her. Gwyneth slid to the floor in a silken muddle.

  Gabby bent over her when Ash appeared suddenly and knelt down next to his wife, feeling for her pulse. Gabby was shocked by his appearance since he wasn’t supposed to be attending the ball.

  Ash cradled his wife’s head with his arm. “My God, Gwyneth. Wake up.”

  Gabby looked for Michael, who stood in a group of gentlemen. A man she didn’t know grabbed Michael’s arm, preventing him from coming to her. Michael shook his head but remained on the other side of the ballroom.

  Aunt Euphemia rushed over to Gwyneth. “Thank God, she’s breathing.” Aunt Euphemia briskly rubbed Gwyneth’s hands. “Let’s get her away from this room.”

  Aunt Euphemia looked up at Gabby. “What happened?”

  “We were talking and sipping the champagne when Gwyneth grabbed her head and said the room was spinning. I started to take her to the ladies’ retiring room, and she collapsed.” Gabby’s knees wobbled at the awful sight of vibrant Gwyneth, pale and listless, lying in her husband’s arms. Was her friend poisoned? Gabby looked at her half-drunk champagne glass.

  “Who gave you the champagne?” Aunt Euphemia voice was sharp.

  “Lord Weston.”

  “I’m going to take him apart piece by piece.” Ash’s quiet threat was made more menacing by the fierce, violent look on his face.

  “Not now. Gwyneth needs you. Cord will take care of him. We need to empty Gwyneth’s stomach of the champagne.”

  Ash picked Gwyneth into his arms. She was so still, the pallor of her skin in sharp contrast to her black hair, dangling over Ash’s arm.

  “Gabby, are you feeling any symptoms?” Aunt Euphemia asked.

  Jolts of fear crashed through her, making her unsteady. “No, I feel fine.” The idea tha
t Gwyneth had drunk the champagne that must have been meant for Gabby was too awful to consider. The tremors started in her hands and then moved to her legs before taking over her entire body. She shook uncontrollably.

  Aunt Euphemia followed Ash. The crowd parted; the music had stopped and the hushed undertones echoed in Gabby’s head. She started to follow them when Lord Weston took her elbow and whispered down close to her ear. “Come with me, if you want Lady Gwyneth to live.”

  He held her elbow tightly, leading her toward the French doors opening to the garden. “I will take you out for a breath of fresh air after the excitement. Fan yourself.”

  “Outside?” She couldn’t stop the shaking and it took all her effort to prevent her teeth from chattering.

  “There is someone who wants to see you.”

  “No, he wants to kill me. Please don’t do this.”

  “He will not harm you.” Lord Weston kept a tight grip on her elbow.

  “Why would you do this? You don’t even know me.” Gabby started to feel the hysteria mounting and the overwhelming panic to run. Where was Michael? Why wasn’t he stopping Lord Weston?

  “Who hired you?” Gabby twisted to look at him.

  He led her down the gravel path to the classic Greek grotto overlooking the extensive gardens of the estate.

  His gentleman’s façade gone, he spoke in a mocking tone filled with amusement. “You’re too innocent to understand men’s appetites.”

  Gabby couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t get air into her lungs. She was alone in the dark garden with Weston, being led away from the party. Were the men following her? Was Michael behind her, waiting for the opportunity to grab the killer? She tried to reassure herself that this was the plan, was what she’d wanted. But her heart pounded against her chest so loudly that she could hear nothing else.

  She pulled free of Lord Weston’s arm, refusing to be forced into the role of a victim, and climbed the steps to the hidden grotto. The grotto was surrounded by shrubs and trees on three sides creating the illusion of being in the midst of a forest, with sweeping views of rolling green hills sloping down to a river.