A Christmas Code (The Code Breakers Series Book 2) Read online

  She closed the door quietly as she walked outside. She had to find Ash before the morning hunt commenced, otherwise it would be all day before she’d be able to talk with him. She’d go through the kitchen garden to the back of the house and the courtyard.

  She’d arouse inquiries if she came through the front door without a pelisse on. She hoped the French doors to the library weren’t locked and that Lord Edworth wasn’t in the library. With the hunt this morning, she doubted his lordship would be working on estate business.

  She was in such a tizzy that she didn’t take notice of the snow falling all around her, carpeting the hard, dark earth. She looked up to the skies. Snow for Christmas. She felt a rush of happiness and relief. If it snowed hard, then the prince wouldn’t make it to the party and he wouldn’t be in danger. Gwyneth hurried from the cold. She didn’t want her red nose and cheeks to give away her secret enquiry.

  Chapter Eight

  Gwyneth hurried through the library to find an empty morning room. Had Ash already left for the hunt?

  Brunton stood on duty next to the buffet table, supervising the footmen who delivered platters of eggs, sausage, and kippers, and removed the dirty dishes.

  “My lady, may I prepare a plate for you?” Brunton’s eyes trailed down the length of her, inspecting every detail. True to his training, he pretended not to notice or mention that the hem of her skirt was soaked from the snow.

  “Thank you, Brunton. I’ll serve myself. Have all the gentleman already left for the hunt?”

  “Yes, my lady. Lord Edworth was very concerned by the weather so they started earlier than planned. Based upon how heavily the snow is falling, I believe the gentlemen will return before luncheon.”

  They both turned toward the long windows, bright from the heavy flurries of snow.

  Drat, she had missed Ash. It probably didn’t matter since they had two days before the Prince’s arrival, but if Ash planned to contact Cord, he should send a messenger before the snow left them stranded. She needed to get dressed and ride out to join the hunt. Committed to her next plan of action, she hurried through her tea and toast.

  As she climbed the horseshoe-shaped stairwell to the upper floors, she spotted Ash’s valet, Worthy, moving toward the servant’s stairs. He seemed harried and carried a basin covered with a cloth. Was Ash ill? She gripped the handrail tightly as if she could stop the panic shooting through her body.

  In her most lady-like voice, she called loudly. “Worthy?”

  The valet turned quickly. Shocked, he stood in place, frozen by her scandalous solecism.

  She ran up the stairs, her skirts in hand—another breach of polite behavior. Her breathing became fast and she pressed her hand against her chest. Something was wrong with Ash. She remained fully aware of the dangerous game they were involved in and the necessity that she not draw attention to herself. But the halls were empty, the ladies still abed and the gentleman off on the hunt. And most importantly, Brunton remained in the morning room.

  “My lady.” Worthy was pale, and his hands trembled. “May I help you?”

  “Is Lord Ashworth ill?”

  The poor valet was flummoxed. He stared at her, unable to decide how best to respond.

  “Please, Worthy. I’m a family friend and I’m very concerned.”

  “Yes, my lady. I’ve never seen him so ill, but he told me under no circumstances should I tell anyone.”

  Panic circled her like bees buzzing the nest. “Thank you for telling me, Worthy. I will see to the gentleman, myself.” Gwyneth turned and walked quickly toward Ash’s room. “But my lady…” She heard the valet following, but that didn’t stop her from proceeding into Ash’s room.

  She wasn’t prepared for the awful sight. Ash lay on his bed in a night robe. His color was a ghastly white, his breathing shallow, and a fine mist of sweat moistened his brow.

  “Ash.” Her voice was filled with horror.

  She felt his skin—cold and clammy. His pulse was irregular. Symptoms of possible poisoning. Could he have been the recipient of the holly berries?

  “How long has he been like this, Worthy?”

  “In the middle of the night, he became ill. Since this morning, he has uttered nothing, except your name. Last night he was adamant that I should tell no one of his illness. I was with his lordship in France and followed his directions explicitly…” Worthy let the implication hang.

  “The master and I’ve been in some tight spots, but nothing this horrendous.” Worthy’s chin quivered. “I was about to go downstairs and speak with Brunton to call for the doctor.”

  Ash didn’t want to alert anyone. If he’d realized that he’d been poisoned, he would’ve sent for a doctor. Burning red anger exploded in her. Ash had been poisoned and could’ve died with no one knowing.

  “Lord Ashworth has been poisoned. And since you were with him in France, you know that his work requires secrecy. I’ll need your help, but we mustn’t alert anyone in the house since I don’t know who we can trust.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can for his lordship.” His eyes were serious and understanding.

  “We’ll need plenty of warm water to give to his lordship. We must rid him of the poison.” Anxiety caused Gwyneth’s hands to tremble and her heart to flutter. She didn’t know when he had consumed the poison and whether her treatment would be effective. “Can you summon my friend, Miss Bonnington? Tell her to come immediately here. Do not let her maid hear you.”

  He nodded his head in agreement.

  “I know that will be tricky, but I need her and the water now. And leave the basin in the change room. We don’t want anyone to know of his lordship’s illness.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Worthy walked briskly out of the room intent on his mission, his shoulders set with determination.

  Gwyneth knelt over Ash’s body. “Ash, you aren’t going to die. Now that you’ve finally declared yourself.” Her voice broke with the words. She suppressed her feelings and the need to throw herself on Ash and weep. She couldn’t give in to emotions. Ash needed her.

  She’d force warm water down his throat to make him vomit the poison. She needed to prevent him from going further into a stupor. Worthy would go to the stable to get Brinsley, whom Ash had said she could trust. And Brinsley would get a message to Cord. She couldn’t leave Ash, but she was stuck, uncertain what to do about the holly berries that she had found in the stillroom. She couldn’t prove that Cook had prepared the potion. Anyone could enter the stillroom and concoct poison.

  Chapter Nine

  Fighting the poison in Ash’s body continued through the day and into the early evening. Ash remained unresponsive to their ministrations, but Gwyneth refused to quit.

  Inducing emesis with warm water had been repeated through the morning until Ash vomited only water and bile.

  When he started to drift into a stupor, cold water was splashed onto his face and chest followed by Brinsley and Worthy forcing him to walk as they dragged him back and forth in the room, attempting to purge the poison from his body.

  Brinsley had been a steady presence for Gwyneth, unwilling to give up on Ash. He had sent a coded message to Cord. One of the men in the stables had ridden out, but they all worried about him making it to London with the thick snow that covered the ground.

  Gwyneth focused on Ash who was showing some signs of improvement. His breathing was less shallow, his heartbeat was steady, and some of his color had returned. He was still pale but no longer deathly white. She was exhausted and unable to differentiate between slumber and stupor any longer, but she had to maintain the regime.

  Once more, she repeated the routine of the cold water on Ash’s face for the umpteenth time. Ash opened his eyes. “What the hell?” He pushed against her so forcefully that Gwyneth almost fell off the bed.

  “Ash!” Tears poured down her face as she ran her hand along his cheek. He was warm to touch—the deathlike chill had passed.

  “Get off me, Worthy! His voice was tremu
lous, but he was conscious. He took a deep breath then closed his eyes. “Sleep… I want to sleep.”

  Gwyneth was no longer able to maintain her calm, stoic role. Painful sobs shook her body and made her unable to speak or breathe.

  Brinsley proclaimed, “Thank God.”

  Amelia came to the side of the bed where Gwyneth was perched. “Gwyneth, he’s going to be okay. You did an unbelievable job of nursing him.”

  Gwyneth turned and continued to cry on her friend’s chest. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost him.”

  Worthy had tears in his eyes when he spoke to Gwyneth. “Lady Gwyneth, let me take over. You need to rest. I’ll call you if there is any change.”

  Amelia pulled Gwyneth up from the bed. “Let me take you to my room. You can claim you have a headache. Your maid will believe your story since you look like hell.”

  Gwyneth burst into laughter, as Amelia had planned, but the hysterical laughter was mixed with painful gulps.

  Amelia pinned back the falling hair from Gwyneth’s chignon. “We must keep up appearances. I must dress for dinner.”

  Her friend had risen to the challenge. Amelia hardly acted shocked that the French cook had poisoned Ash because he was a spy. England was at war and everyone’s perspectives had been altered. The English waited for the day Napoleon would invade their country.

  “Yes, let’s not forget about appearances,” Brinsley said sarcastically.

  “What would you know about good behavior, sir?”

  For some reason Amelia and Brinsley had taken to each other in strong dislike. How two people who had just met this morning could have such strong feelings toward each other was difficult to comprehend.

  “I must go down and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary has occurred and make excuses for Gwyneth’s absence.” Amelia smoothed the wrinkles on Gwyneth’s crumpled muslin dress, but could do nothing about the wet spots from the tears.

  Recognizing Amelia’s worry by the way she fussed, Gwyneth took her friend’s hand. “You’re absolutely correct, Amelia. I haven’t had time to think about dinner.”

  “You will rest in my room. I will tell your maid that I’ve designed a special dress for you tonight, and my maid will assist you in the dressing.”

  “It figures you’d spend your time on frivolous activities.” Brinsley shook his head as he rolled his eyes upward.

  Her amiable friend’s voice turned hostile. “What is that supposed to mean, sir?”

  Since everyone had been under incredible stress, Gwyneth ignored the outburst. “Will it be unusual if both Ash and I are missing from dinner?”

  There was silence as everyone contemplated the implications of two absent dinner guests.

  “It is acceptable to not participate in the day’s activities, but everyone is expected to be at dinner. It will be noticed and remarked upon if you’re both not at dinner,” Amelia said.

  “Ash has said that he planned to return to his own estate for the holiday. We could announce that he departed quickly because of the snow, but plans to return for the arrival of the Prince of Wales,” Gwyneth said.

  Brinsley nodded in agreement. “It will give us the time we need. And perhaps this is the right time for me to rejoin society.”

  “What?” Both Gwyneth and Amelia asked in strangled voices.

  “Lord Derrick Jeremy Randolph Brinsley.” The man built like an ox executed a bow worthy of the Queen’s drawing room.

  “You’re not a stableman?” Amelia’s bright violet eyes looked more dramatic against her pale white skin.

  “I’m many things, my fair lady.” He gave a roguish smile, accenting the dimple in his left cheek

  “Lord Brinsley…your name is familiar.” Amelia was staring at him. “You…ran off with your brother’s fiancée.”

  “The estimable one.” Lord Brinsley angled his head in an insolent fashion.

  Amelia gasped. “Of all the nerve.”

  “Please, we don’t have time for this.” Gwyneth tried to take the edge off her voice, but she still sounded like a shrew.

  “Lord Brinsley, your arrival will provide a distraction, but how will you explain your sudden uninvited appearance?”

  “I’ll ask Lord Edworth to understand that I’m in pursuit of a lady at the party. I’ve heard that Lady Charolois might be of interest to a gentleman with my reputation.”

  “Of course, she’s perfect for you,” Amelia said spitefully.

  “I don’t think it’s a good plan to call attention to Lady Charolois since Ash suspects her of having ties to the French spies. I think you need to pick another lady.”

  “No respectable lady will go near him,” Amelia sputtered.

  “My reputation is a barrier for some ladies, but not all,” he said in a low, seductive voice.

  “Amelia?” Gwyneth raised her eyebrows in question. “You can pretend to be courting Amelia,” Gwyneth said.

  Both Lord Brinsley and Amelia answered at the same time. “Never.”

  “But that’s the reason it will work. You obviously have had a fight and loathe each other, but Lord Brinsley has arrived to mend the wayward ways of love.”

  “Yes, it could work. In my pursuit of the lovely, respectable Miss Bonnington, I’ll be privy to all goings on and it wouldn’t be questioned if we devoted lovers steal private time in the conservatory. It will give me time to investigate the stillroom.”

  “And you can get messages to me through Amelia.”

  Amelia stood still, an unusual moment for her energetic friend.

  Lord Brinsley moved closer to Amelia. A red blush immediately covered her pale face and chest. With her porcelain white skin, all her emotions were written all over her skin.

  “It will be all for show, all part of my work. You needn’t look so frightened.”

  “I’m not frightened. And I’ll do whatever Gwyneth needs me to do to help my country.”

  Gwyneth hugged Amelia. “Thank you. I knew you’d help.”

  Chapter Ten

  With a candle in hand and dressed in her wool pelisse to hide her nightclothes, Gwyneth snuck along the quiet hallway toward Lady Charolois’ room. This spy business was definitely exciting, but not particularly more challenging than sneaking into her brother’s rooms to play tricks on them. She would never admit to being frightened, but the way her stomach fluttered and her knees quaked, she was telling herself one big whopper of a lie.

  She hadn’t shared with Brinsley or Amelia that she didn’t plan to rest while they were at dinner. They would’ve tried to dissuade her from her search. They had no proof that Cook had poisoned Ash and they were no closer to discovering the threat against the prince arriving tomorrow on Christmas Eve, if the snow allowed. Ash was still too weak to pursue the mystery.

  Gwyneth had waited to embark upon her late night mission until the servants had gone down to the kitchen for their dinners. She planned to look through the lady’s belongings to see if there were any indications of her clandestine connections.

  Shadows danced along the walls. She walked briskly, in fear that someone might see her. With the sound of footsteps behind her, she turned suddenly. Panic flared down her spine, causing her to shudder in fear. The flame of the candle on the pier table in the hallway flickered with her abrupt movement. She was scaring herself, getting melodramatic. She exhaled the breath she had been holding since she left her room. There was no one following her. Everyone was at dinner. The idea of helping Ash strengthened her resolve to continue down the hallway.

  Lady Charolois’ room was next. When Gwyneth turned the handle, the click echoed down the hallway and thundered in Gwyneth’s ears. Her heart beat at breakneck speed.

  The fire in the grate and the burning candle on the bedside stand created an eerie glow in the room. She closed the door behind her and walked toward the lady’s wardrobe. She held the candle in her left hand as she carefully searched the closet. She opened the bottom drawers looking for letters. Tucked into one of the
lady’s boots, the same ones Lady Charolois had worn to gather the greens, was a pocket pistol. Interesting. Exceptional for a lady to have a pistol, but not proof that she was a collaborator.

  Gwyneth found only that the lady owned an incredible amount of blue clothing. Lady Charolois definitely recognized that blue flattered her coloring and her eyes.

  Gwyneth walked to the dressing table. She placed the candle on the table between the assortment of jars, glass bottles, and ceramic pots filled with a lady’s beauty regime—a wonderful place to hide poisons. She sat on the stuffed lady’s chair and picked up the largest jar and sniffed the contents.

  The familiar smell of cherry laurel oil arrested her nose. Cherry laurel oil was used by ladies to make their skin supple and fresh, particularly around the eyes. Cherry laurel seeds were very poisonous. But Ash hadn’t experienced the fever, rash, or worst of all, death that came from cherry laurel poisoning.

  She examined a smaller jar before smelling the contents. She recognized the pungent scent immediately. Belladonna was highly poisonous and known to anyone who resided in the country. Ladies also used it to dilate their pupils to give them the wide-eyed appearance that gentlemen considered attractive. Ash hadn’t been poisoned with belladonna since he didn’t exhibit the associated hallucinations or mania or death coma. This search hadn’t uncovered anything questionable and she had no evidence against Lady Charolois except that the lady was a very vain woman.

  Gwyneth examined and smelled the rest of the jars and containers—beeswax, rice powder, and evergreen bugloss, all used to make a lady’s skin and lips beautiful, but nothing highly toxic.

  At this point, she was forced to conclude that the conspirator hadn’t planned to kill Ash, since there were more deadly poisons available. They had wanted to make him ill enough not to interrupt their real mission—the Prince of Wales. If Lady Charolois had used either belladonna or cherry laurel, Ash would’ve died.