A Christmas Code (The Code Breakers Series Book 2) Page 5

  “Darling, I know. It’s the same for me.” Of course, she wanted to share the traditions of the holiday, and all he thought about was her sharing his bed. “Not much longer and we’ll have many Christmases ahead of us.”

  “I know. It’s what sustains me.”

  “Gwyneth don’t look at me like that, or I’ll do something we both might regret.”

  “I won’t regret whatever you want to do to me, Ash.” Her voice got that husky tone that shot right down his spine into his groin. “Wait until I get you into the woods, away from everyone.”

  “You mean we’re not going to look for mistletoe?” Her teasing voice had the same telling effect on his body parts.

  “I think you might have competition for Henley’s attention,” Ash said.

  “What?”

  “Henley seems to be interested in Lady Charolois.”

  “Yes, the poor man. He doesn’t realize he’s in love with her.”

  Now it was his turn to be shocked. “What?”

  “Yes, but that’s not important. The important part is I’m not sure Lady Charolois has any connections to the threat against the prince. Except for seeing her flee the conservatory.”

  “What?” He asked.

  “Ash, what is the matter with you?”

  Nothing that a night with Gwyneth wouldn’t cure. Who was he kidding? It was going to take a lifetime of nights to satiate himself with Gwyneth.

  “I maneuvered the couple together so I could share my news.”

  Cord and Aunt Euphemia were correct. Gwyneth was skilled at subterfuge.

  “Wait a minute. You weren’t supposed to know about the threat against Prinny.”

  Gwyneth dropped his arm and he gave her the same look he’d given her in childhood when she was about to wallop him—once she’d punched him right in the nose. Of course, deservedly so—he had dunked her in the horse trough after she had interrupted him with the miller’s widow. Her excuse was that she had come to rescue the woman when she heard her moaning as if in pain.

  “It doesn’t take an idiot to deduce that you’re worried about the prince’s safety at the house party—that you’re looking for possible connections from some intelligence you got in London. Why can’t you trust me?”

  “I trust you. I just don’t want you to be involved in anything dangerous.”

  Gwyneth rolled her dark, velvet eyes and stomped off down the narrow path. She walked quickly and he had to run to catch up.

  “Look, there.” She pointed to a large oak tree with the mistletoe hanging from a high branch.

  She stood under the tree gazing up.

  “You know what this means?” he asked.

  She turned and stared at him.

  He stepped toward her, crowding her against the tree. “I have to kiss you under the mistletoe.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She stood very still and waited.

  He carefully undid the ribbon of her bonnet tied under her chin. His knuckles pressed against the beating pulse in her pale, white neck.

  He teased her by pressing soft kisses on her cheeks, her nose, and then on her lips. Her lips were warm and soft, and he wanted to do so much to her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ash. I just melt when you kiss me.”

  She returned his kiss with her mouth open, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth. Lust roared through his body. He pressed her against the tree, his hard body rubbing against her inviting, womanly curves. He ran his hand along her pelisse, searching for skin to touch. He ground his erection into her body as his hands took her soft, ample breasts into his hands.

  He held her fullness between his hands, squeezing them tight. He circled each nipple with his finger. She groaned and threw her head back. He was thinking about how he could take her, lift her skirts and push into her tight warmth.

  “Don’t stop, Ash. Don’t stop.”

  Her words brought him back to reality. His hands shook, and he couldn’t stop himself from teasing her nipples one last time before he dropped his hands. His erection throbbed against her soft thighs.

  He leaned his head against her forehead, trying to catch his breath.

  Gwyneth opened her eyes. “Why have you stopped?” Her voice was winded, and he felt the little puffs of her moist breath against his cheek.

  He started to laugh. She looked so rumpled and unhappy, and all he wanted to do was kiss her and make her happy in the way she begged him.

  Indignant at his laughter, she tried to get him to release her, pushing against him.

  It took all his willpower to comply. He kissed her lightly, trying to soothe both of their jangled nerves. “Gwyneth, we’ve got to stop because at any minute, others will join us. Have you considered that? And I don’t want to take you the first time against a tree. Although the idea still appeals to me.”

  “Oh, Ash, me too.” She ran her tongue along his lower lip sending burning flames up into his already hot body.

  “Gwyneth, please. You promised me you’d be discreet.”

  She stiffened in his arms and then straightened her spine. She patted at her hair now hanging from its hairpins. “You’re right. I do have some interesting things to tell you.”

  He bent down and picked up her bonnet and handed it to her. He wanted to tie the ribbons, but she batted his hands away. “I’ve got to tell you what I’ve discovered. I spoke with the housekeeper about my love of plants and the conservatory. I asked her if anyone in the household or guests have been visiting the conservatory.”

  “It seems more of a question for the butler.”

  “Yes, you’re right, but Brunton has only been with the household for six weeks and here’s the interesting part. The chef is also new to the household. It has Mrs. Hudson in a fluster that Lord Edworth has hired new staff before the prince’s visit.”

  “Interesting.” Ash wasn’t sure if there was anything of significance here. Staff moved between households all the time, but he did agree that it was suspicious. “Why were both the butler and cook replaced?”

  “The older butler got a letter saying his mother had died in Northumberland. And Brunton appeared the next day saying that he was sent by an agency. I don’t think Brunton’s appearance would be that questionable if the cook hadn’t become ill soon after Brunton arrived, and he just happened to know a cook who could replace her. Mrs. Hudson said Cook has been with the household for twenty years and never been sick.”

  “But Lady and Lord Edworth must have looked into their references before they hired them.”

  “According to Mrs. Hudson, Lady Edworth was so upset by the butler leaving before the royal visit, she isn’t sure how carefully Brunton was checked.”

  “It may be nothing, but it’s worth investigating.”

  “There’s more. The cook is French. The housekeeper doesn’t like her, so I’m not sure how much to believe, but she said the woman puts on airs—says she cooked for nobility and other esteemed personage in France.”

  Ash’s instinct flared. “You’ve done well, Gwyneth. This is very helpful.”

  “And the most important part is that Mrs. Hudson said that she has seen the cook coming out of the conservatory.”

  “Wouldn’t she need to go into the conservatory to get herbs and spices?”

  “The herbs are grown in the kitchen garden, not in the conservatory,” Gwyneth said.

  “This mystery around the conservatory is baffling. I’m not sure what to make of it, except as a place that can be used for secret meetings.”

  “Did you find any footprints outside the conservatory?”

  “Yes, there was one large print that hadn’t been washed away from the rain.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Only that the man who knocked you down has to be over two meters, which rules out most of the houseguests including Henley.”

  “Henley? Why do you think he’d knock me down?”

  “You saw Lady Charolois running out. What if they are plotting togethe
r?”

  “But why would he show interest in me if he were plotting with Lady Charolois?”

  “To distract you. He knows Cord is your brother. Maybe he knows Cord’s role in government.”

  “No, I don’t believe it. Lord Henley is such a gentleman. I can’t believe he could be a spy.”

  “But I’m a spy.”

  “But you’re no gentleman.” She rubbed herself against him. “A gentleman would never leave a lady wanting.”

  He held her tight against his body. His body flooded with lust. “What do you know about such things?” He kissed her deeply.

  “I know enough.” Her fingers wandered down the front of his breeches.

  He grabbed her hand. “Gwyneth Elizabeth Beaumont. Stop. We need to get back.”

  He took her arm and directed her out of the woods.

  Gwyneth protested. “But we didn’t get any mistletoe.”

  “Another time,” Ash said. “I need to talk with Lord Edworth about his staff.”

  “I’ll plan to keep an eye on Cook and Brunton.” Gwyneth added.

  “What does that mean?” He didn’t like the idea of her getting into trouble or drawing attention to herself.

  “I’ll visit with Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper, again. Spend time in the conservatory. A lady interested in plants and household issues. Nothing to arouse suspicions.”

  “I don’t want you to go into the conservatory alone. Take Amelia with you. And if you need help and can’t find me, go to the stables. I’ve a man in the stables—Brinsley. He can be totally trusted.”

  “Ash, I want to be a help, but I wish we could be together.”

  “We will be soon, darling. This is my last mission, and then I’m done.”

  * * *

  “It is dangerous for us to meet.” Ismay stood against the outer wall of the stillroom, away from the kitchen windows.

  “I had to take the risk. I’ve discovered the British agent. He was searching for my footprints outside the conservatory. Today he received a letter. I steamed it open. It was from Lord Rathbourne, and I’m sure it was in code,” Francois said.

  “Were you able to decipher the code?” Her husband had many talents. And Andre had been just like his father, clever, strong, and independent in his thinking.

  “No, it is most likely a book cipher. I’ve no way of knowing which book they are using.”

  She wanted to rub her hands together in elation, but knew that Francois would disapprove of a show of strong feelings. “Who is the spy?”

  “Lord Ashworth. As we suspected.”

  Her husband was methodical and logical. He would never jump to conclusions with everything at stake. “Thomas has followed him several times at night. He went to the stables in the rainstorm. I’ve inquired whether there were any problems with any of the horses and nothing has been reported. Lord Ashworth is our man.”

  Her heart rate accelerated with eagerness. Finally, she would get to act. Finally, she wouldn’t be the victim. She would get revenge.

  Chapter Seven

  Gwyneth had planned her sleuthing well. She’d meet Cook early in the morning. At Rathbourne house, she met with Cook regularly to plans meals, but it would be unprecedented for a lady guest to have contact with the cook at another home.

  She hadn’t been able to share her plans with Ash last night. She had hoped to find a way to meet him for a review of their plans, but mainly so they could continue their kisses and the rest of the lovemaking that she was unacquainted with, but Ash was very experienced in. She was a very willing pupil.

  Her plan had a few gaps, but she saw no way around the difficulties. She needed to meet the new cook and decide for herself if there was anything suspicious about her sudden appearance.

  Gwyneth had already spoken with Lady Edworth who brushed aside the whole episode of new staff as inconvenient. The transition had gone smoothly—the French woman had proven to be an excellent cook and Brunton a good butler. Prinny would probably bring his own staff with him since fine cuisine was so important to him. Lady Edworth was also reassured that Mrs. Hudson was well satisfied with Cook’s and Brunton’s performance.

  The trickiest part of the plan was to circumvent Brunton. Something about the man set all her intuition soaring and she trusted her instincts. Brunton and the staff would be occupied in the breakfast room at this time of morning. Mrs. Hudson would be occupied upstairs, directing the maids, so she should have time to sneak into the kitchen without alerting the other servants.

  She planned to arrive unannounced. There was nothing anyone could say to a lady, but to allow her in the kitchen.

  She followed the narrow hallway down the steps used only by the servants. She was well accustomed to the back stairs from Rathbourne house.

  A startled footman stood at the bottom of the stairs, his muscular arms straining from the heavy tray of kippers. He averted his eyes once the shock of her appearance subsided.

  Not sure what to do, he waited dumbfounded, the weighty tray in his arms.

  “Good Morning…?” Gwyneth waited for the young man in his late teens to respond with his name.

  “Thomas, ma’am.”

  “Your tray looks heavy, Thomas. I won’t stop you.”

  “My Lady, may I help you?” His eyes narrowed and Gwyneth felt a sudden twinge of danger skirt along her spine.

  “No, Thomas. I’m sure I can find my way to the kitchen. And I’m sure Brunton will not be happy if you don’t deliver the kippers to the morning room.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His stare bordered on insolent and unsettling.

  “Thank you, Thomas. That will be all.” Gwyneth used her best hauteur. Growing up with Cord, she witnessed his methods of dealing with anyone who overstepped his place. She had never needed to use her lady-of-the-manor voice before today.

  Thomas bowed his head and proceeded up the stairs.

  Gwyneth followed the smells and the clatter of dishes to the kitchen down another long, narrow hallway.

  As she entered the kitchen, the hectic noise stopped and all eyes turned toward her. Everyone paused and waited in the silence. One kitchen maid froze with her scrub brush in mid-air and stared with her mouth open.

  “Good Morning.” Gwyneth spoke in her most chirpy morning voice, the one she had used to irritate her brothers when they were tired.

  All the kitchen staff bobbed their heads with bows and curtsies.

  Gwyneth searched for Cook. At Rathbourne house, Cook always wore a crisp white apron. “I’ve come to speak to Cook.”

  “My Lady, Cook left to go over the menus with her ladyship.”

  Gwyneth was surprised that Lady Edworth was up this early, but with a house party of this size and the imminent visit of the Prince of Wales, Lady Edworth was understandably busy with all the details.

  Cook’s absence gave Gwyneth the perfect opportunity to visit the stillroom. Mrs. Hudson’s comment that Cook was the only one who used the conservatory was odd. Why would the cook not use the herbs from her stillroom?

  Gwyneth had spent a great amount of time in both the stillroom and conservatory at Rathbourne house. She needed to study plants as part of a lady’s role in household management, but it was also useful to know the treatments and remedies for the injuries and illnesses on an estate. But it was in the conservatory, which housed the exotic plants and the botanical discoveries of the new world that she spent the most of her time. Although not allowed to visit the other side of the world, she could imagine the glamorous worlds by studying the plants and the environment that nurtured them.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your work. Please continue. I’ll walk outside in the kitchen garden.” Gwyneth spoke again in her lady-of-the-manor voice, anticipating some reaction, since it was snowing outside and she wasn’t dressed for the weather. But the servants bobbed their heads in acquiescence. She realized that the news of her visit to the kitchen and the garden would reach both Mrs. Hudson and Brunton before breakfast was finished.

  She walked through
the busy kitchen to the back doors, which she assumed would lead to the kitchen garden and a small shed used as the stillroom. The garden looked very similar to Rathbourne’s winter garden—barren except for the wintergreens. Cloth covered several of the less hearty herbs.

  As Gwyneth suspected, the stillroom was a wooden shed, similar in size to the generous stillroom at Rathbourne house. Here was the heart of the kitchen with its herbs and spices. The strong scent of the dried lavender, sage, and thyme hanging from a trestle above filled the air. It was a comforting smell and brought back many memories of helping Mrs. Brompton Rathbourne’s housekeeper.

  A long wooden table ran down the center of the room with drying racks along one entire wall. On shelves were pots, tubs, and labeled jars filled with the ground herbs. Edworth estate had a meticulously organized stillroom.

  On one end of the table, holly branches and berries were piled. She recalled an experience from her childhood—a child in the village had eaten holly berries and had almost died. The berries were very tempting to children and animals alike.

  Why would a well-organized stillroom have a poison on its table? Everyone knew of native poisons like nightshade and opium, and the care you needed to take in handling them.

  Gwyneth carefully examined the area around the holly. Juice from the berry had stained the scrubbed wooden table. Her heart rate quickened as suspicions raced through her mind. She scanned the shelf to examine the several mortars and pestles for a sign of the red stain.

  She found none, but the doubt wouldn’t stop. She opened one cabinet that held the supplies, empty jars, twine, and the sticks for the garden. On the bottom shelf, behind a crock for storing the pickles was a mortar and pestle. And both were stained red.

  A sickening heave of fear twisted in her stomach. She needed to find Ash. Could Cook be planning to poison the Prince of Wales? She didn’t have a reason for Cook’s extraordinary behavior, but poisonous berries in the stillroom was not customary.

  Gwyneth replaced the mortar and pestle. Her skin shivered with awareness. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to get away from the stillroom and the disturbing evidence that she found.