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  “I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps you should have taken more time—broken your trip and spent more than one night at the inns along the way.”

  Roberta laughed and strove to hide the concern she felt at his obvious probing. “I’m afraid I was responsible for our mad dash and Papa’s subsequent exhaustion,” she responded. “I gave little thought to my traveling companions’ comfort. Is that not correct, Ashley?”

  Mrs. Ashley nodded, and Roberta could tell from the way her companion was gripping the arms of her chair that she, too, felt apprehensive. “There was only one thought in her mind, and that was to see an English spring,” Mrs. Ashley said. “Although, to my mind, a spring in any country is very pleasant. On the whole, I would have to say it is my favorite season. Do you have any preference, Monsieur le Comte?”

  Her voice was slightly higher than normal, but the comte didn’t seem to notice. “It would have to be the summer. The warmth of the sun rejuvenates me and prepares me to face another winter.”

  “And my favorite is autumn,” Roberta said, thankful to Mrs. Ashley for turning the conversation so adroitly. “I love the colors the leaves take on. And the crisp air is so pleasant. I do concede, however, it is quite the saddest season, for when the trees lose their leaves, they seem so vulnerable in their nakedness.”

  The comte smiled at this and then said more softly, “I would like it very much if you would agree to come for a ride with me. I’m considering purchasing Sir Gerald Lynch’s roans and would be interested in hearing your opinion of them.”

  “My opinion? I hardly think I’m qualified to pass judgment on anyone’s horseflesh. I haven’t ridden, these past two years.”

  “But I’m told you are very knowledgeable. Lady Jersey makes that claim.”

  A sudden fear gripped Roberta. If he had talked about her to Sally Jersey, perhaps he had also learned that she had no father. But his next question, asking if her father had taught her to ride, eased her mind slightly. Surely he wouldn’t make reference to her fictitious parent if he knew she didn’t have one!

  “He abhors all exercise,” she replied, shaking her head. “My uncle. Lord Bromley, is responsible for my expertise in the saddle. He used to be quite an equestrian in his youth. But as for your request, I shall keep next Monday morning for you. Although, I beg you, please don’t expect me to make any comment on the roans.”

  “Until then I shall wait with ill-concealed impatience.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Good day, mademoiselle.” He gave Mrs. Ashley a brief bow as Roberta tugged at the bell-rope, and minutes later she watched him from the window as he left the house. The man under the oak tree was still there.

  “You will have developed a cold by Monday, or even be stricken by the plague. Anything, Roberta, but you will not go for a ride with that—that person,” Mrs. Ashley choked.

  “It will undoubtedly be the plague,” Roberta said with a laugh.

  “You—you don’t think he suspects anything, do you?” Mrs. Ashley asked anxiously.

  “No…no,” Roberta said slowly. “Not that it will do him much good if he does uncover the truth. We’re on English soil now, and there’s nothing he can do to harm us.” She spoke with more conviction than she felt. In reality, she was worried. The comte was as much an enigma as Sir Nicholas, and she didn’t trust either of them.

  Chapter 10

  The sense of relief Roberta experienced at seeing her uncle was acute, and just after the initial greetings, she asked for a private word with him.

  “My dear Roberta, when you adopt that tone with me, I know you have something of the utmost urgency to discuss,” he said, his bushy white eyebrows drawn into a playful frown. “I daren’t even begin to think what sort of scrape you have embroiled yourself in in so short a time. Why, you have been in England for only a week.”

  Roberta linked arms with him and pulled him into step with her, ignoring Perkins’s plea for a word with his master. “Please come to my sitting room, where we can spend a few minutes undisturbed,” she said.

  Lord Bromley cast a despairing look at the sheaf of papers Perkins was holding, but allowed himself to be propelled out of the room. “It must be something serious, my gal,” he said, patting her hand lightly, “for I’ve never before known you to be so secretive.”

  Roberta sighed unhappily. “It’s a long story, Uncle, and you’re the only person I trust enough to tell.”

  They had reached Roberta’s private rooms by this time, and she quickly closed the door, locking it to insure their privacy. Lord Bromley lowered his large frame into the overstuffed chaise with difficulty.

  “First, I want to show you something.” Roberta moved over to her desk and pulled out a bundle of papers tied in red ribbon. She riffled through them quickly before joining her uncle on the chaise. “I want you to look at these,” she said, handing him the bundle.

  Lord Bromley undid the bow and stared uncomprehendingly at the top sheet. “Perhaps you had better explain,” he said. “This makes no sense to me whatsoever.”

  “That, believe it or not, is a list of prominent Englishmen, all engaged in politics and all of whom I know to be friends of yours. At least, some of them are. Three on the list are now deceased.”

  “Explain yourself, Roberta,” Lord Bromley demanded in a low voice as he scanned the remaining papers.

  “First let me tell you how the list came into my possession,” Roberta said. Without further hesitation, she launched into the circumstances surrounding her meeting Sir Nicholas and all the events that had occurred since.

  “Dear Lord!” Lord Bromley exclaimed somberly. “I know I must believe it, but even so, I find it difficult. Are you sure of your facts, Roberta?”

  “I only know that I took a certain paper from Sir Nicholas’s cabin, of which this is a copy, and yesterday managed to decipher it.”

  “I’m trying to follow you, but I confess bewilderment. How do you equate this gibberish,” he inquired patiently, holding the top sheet aloft, “with your interpretation?”

  “It was something Stephen Davenport said when he called on me yesterday. He told me the comte was seeking introductions to various politicians, and Mr. Lambert was one of the names he mentioned. Now, if you notice, on the paper I took from Sir Nicholas, there is only one set of letters that has seven digits. See, this one here. QFRGJWY.” Lord Bromley nodded. “I merely worked on the presumption that it stood for Lambert.”

  “And so from that you were able to deduce everyone else’s name? It makes no sense, Roberta, no sense at all.”

  “But it does, Uncle. I don’t pretend to know what it all means, but I’m certain I’m correct in my findings. The code is really the simplest. The comte has merely added five letters to the original, in order to confuse a casual observer. And, as simple as it might be, it is quite effective, because, unless you have a specific name to work with, it is meaningless.”

  Lord Bromley looked at her speculatively for a moment. “A very clever piece of work, Roberta. I am forced to agree with your findings.”

  “That’s why I wanted to see you so urgently. You see, I—I suspect that Sir Nicholas is a spy. And, what is more, I think he has someone watching this house.”

  This last piece of information drew a mild oath from Lord Bromley, and Roberta smiled triumphantly.

  “I knew you wouldn’t like hearing that,” she murmured, “especially since, in your capacity of Under Secretary, you receive some very strange visitors. It would do you a great deal of harm, wouldn’t it, if some of your callers were stopped and questioned after they left this house?”

  “Dammit, Roberta, that’s none of your business!”

  “I know, Uncle, and I promise I won’t mention it again. What wearies me now is the fact that Sir Nicholas had several more papers with him. They could either be additional names or, possibly, instructions about gathering information the French government wants.” She paused expectantly, waiting for some comment. But Lord Bromley, deep in thought, remained sile
nt. “Is my reasoning so farfetched, Uncle?”

  He shook his head slowly, a troubled expression on his face. “You’ve simply no idea what you’ve embroiled yourself in, Roberta. I need time to assimilate all the facts you have presented me with.”

  “But what about Sir Nicholas?” Roberta demanded. “Is he to be allowed to wander about London at will?”

  Lord Bromley was saved from having to answer by a knock on the door. Roberta stepped over to it, unlocked it, and with an impatient gesture, threw it open. Perkins stood outside, an envelope clutched in his hand.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Roberta,” he said, “but an urgent dispatch has arrived for Lord Bromley.”

  “Oh, very well! Although I don’t think it can be any more important than the discussion I’m trying to have with my uncle.”

  “What is it, Perkins?” Lord Bromley called out. “Come on in, for goodness’ sake. I can’t abide talking to people I can’t see.”

  “This has just come, my lord,” Perkins said as he entered. “The messenger seemed a trifle concerned when I told him you were engaged, so, under the circumstances, I thought I had better seek you out at once.”

  “Who was it?” Lord Bromley asked brusquely as he took the envelope from his secretary and extracted the enclosed letter. “The usual one?”

  “Eh—eh! No, my lord,” he returned softly, looking at Roberta with some concern. “It was Jenkins.”

  “Then tell him not to come here again. My niece seems to think that we are being watched. Have you noticed anything untoward?”

  “There certainly has been an increase of activity in the square since Miss Roberta’s return, my lord, but I can’t say that I have seen obvious signs of anyone lingering about the house without reason.”

  “We’ll use my club as a meeting place for the time being,” Lord Bromley said as he returned the letter and Roberta’s papers to the envelope. “Inform the obvious people immediately, Perkins.” He rose from the chaise and crossed to the window. “I have to go out now, but I will see you in my study later on this afternoon.”

  “Very good, my lord,” Perkins answered, and departed quickly.

  “As for you, my gal,” Lord Bromley continued, “I want you to try and forget all this nonsense of lists and names. We can continue our discussion when I return.” As he spoke, he looked out of the window, and saw the man Roberta had described. “It certainly is an odd place to choose to stand all day with nothing to do,” he murmured. “The Strand would be far more interesting, I would have thought.”

  “Then you don’t think he is there watching us?” Roberta asked.

  “I don’t know what to think as yet, but as I said, if he’s not watching us, what is he doing? Now, don’t do anything foolish in my absence. I’ll return as quickly as possible.”

  “But I haven’t finished yet, Uncle,” Roberta protested unhappily. “Something else has happened that could cause even greater complication.”

  “It will have to wait.” He shook his head one last time before dropping the curtain. “I wonder what he hopes to learn by having the house watched?” On that cryptic note, he left, leaving Roberta feeling thoroughly frustrated.

  She tried to occupy herself by working on a sampler, but made so many mistakes that she gave up in disgust. Finally, she put on her cloak, exchanged her cap for a bonnet and went for a short stroll with Polly, her new lady’s maid, following a few paces behind.

  She deliberately went out of her way to gain access to the gardens, in order to pass the man by the oak tree. She stared at him openly, uncaring that she might arouse his suspicions. Before he bent over to sharpen some knives that lay at his feet, she noticed he had a small scar above his right eye. His complexion was ruddy, as though he had spent a lot of time outdoors, and his sharp features reminded her of a weasel.

  “Is that your trade?” she asked loudly.

  He nodded. “It’s not a crime as I knows of,” he muttered in surly tones. “I can practice me craft anywheres I choose, can’t I?”

  “All week in the same spot!” she exclaimed. “Unless, of course, every household knife in the square is blunt. However, I think you would be very foolish to select the same position tomorrow, for I have become a trifle bored by your constant presence.” She moved away, and consequently failed to see the sly look he cast her way.

  “Miss Rushforth? Good morning.”

  She turned quickly and saw Sir Nicholas in his phaeton, reining in an exquisite pair of high-stepping horses. His man—whom Sir Nicholas called Jenkins, Roberta noted with interest—was perched behind him.

  “Would you mind if I joined you for a short walk?”

  She was about to refuse when a sudden, darting movement from the knife sharpener, as though he were trying to hide, made her change her mind.

  She nodded. “Please do,” she said hastily when she realized that Sir Nicholas was having difficulty restraining the horses. “I’m beginning to find my own company rather tedious.”

  Sir Nicholas jumped down and handed the reins to Jenkins, instructing his servant to walk the animals.

  “Tell me, Miss Rushforth,” he said as he took Roberta’s arm, “do you normally walk along public thoroughfares with your maid trailing so far behind? When I first saw you, I thought you were unchaperoned.”

  There was a note of disapproval in his voice, and Roberta stiffened in anger. “I hardly think that is any of your concern, Sir Nicholas. I told you once before that I’m not a girl just out of the schoolroom. As it happens, I was merely going to the gardens.”

  “Then I’m glad I happened by before you reached the gate, else I would have missed you,” Sir Nicholas responded, deliberately ignoring her anger.

  “Were you seeking my company, then?” she inquired with false sweetness.

  “I am supposed to be dangling after you,” he replied rather nonchalantly.

  “There is no need to continue with the sham any longer. My uncle has returned, and he can protect me now from the comte and any other dangers that present themselves.”

  “I hope you won’t give me the cold shoulder yet,” he returned earnestly. “I don’t think my standing in Society is such that I can afford an abrupt dismissal from you.”

  “You put too much store on my influence, Sir Nicholas. If you care so much about approval, you should follow the comte’s lead and ingratiate yourself with Sally Jersey. Once you have gained her approval, you know, everyone will accept you without question.”

  “Dear Sally. ’Tis her recognition I fear more than anyone’s. She’s such a dratted bore.”

  “Sir Nicholas!” Roberta exclaimed in scandalized tones. “You must never be that careless with your remarks. Why, if I were to repeat what you just said, you would be ostracized immediately.”

  “In a more civilized society than ours, it would have needed at least six thousand votes before such a dreadful catastrophe could have overtaken me,” he observed with a grin.

  “Aha! The Athenians and their democracy,” Roberta replied, determined to prove that she knew her Greek history. “Well, equate, if you can, a Greek marketplace with Almack’s. Someone arbitrarily decides that a certain person is dangerous and unwholesome. In Greece, the Athenians would merely write the name of the undesirable on an ostrakon. If six thousand ostrakons were cast, the unfortunate victim was banished for six years. In England, it only needs one person—namely, Sally Jersey—to say that Mr. So-and-so is despicable, and that poor victim is banished for an equal length of time from Society. So please, Sir Nicholas, take my advice and don’t utter such banalities unless you wish to be ostracized.”

  “Miss Rushforth, you are an extremely refreshing change. There is no other woman of my acquaintance who would know about ostrakons. Are you as fascinated as I am by the development of the English language?”

  “Now, that, Sir Nicholas, is a leading question. If I were to agree with you, you would immediately dub me a bluestocking.”

  “But surely you wouldn’t be averse to
being compared to Elizabeth Montagu? She, after all, was the forerunner of what we now call ‘women of intellectual persuasions.’”

  “Of course not. She was a remarkably courageous woman, Sir Nicholas. The fact that she wore blue stockings as a symbol of her beliefs, and allowed herself to be ridiculed by Admiral Buscawen, is not something I’m likely to forget. Unfortunately, the term has taken on a different connotation in present-day Society, and no woman wishes to be considered affectedly studious.”

  “I take your point, but your very knowledge of ostrakons and Admiral Buscawen is an indication of your interest in the development of our language.”

  “Then I shall take care in the future to address myself only to such topics as the weather and the latest fashions.”

  “I cannot believe you really mean that,” Sir Nicholas said, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “If I am not mistaken, you enjoy being regarded as an original, and that is a title you would lose if you only addressed yourself to such commonplace topics.”

  “Tell me, Sir Nicholas,” Roberta said abruptly, “did you ever know a Mr. Lambert?” She was pleased to note his frown at the unexpectedness of her question. “Or Geoffrey Laurie?”

  “I don’t understand your questions, Miss Rushforth” he responded uneasily. “Why should I know these people?”

  “I’m curious, Sir Nicholas, merely curious.” She took a deep breath. “You see, I copied that piece of paper I took from your cabin, and they were but two of the names on the list.”

  “I find that very interesting,” he said slowly, as though weighing his words carefully. “But, as far as I can recall, the letters on that paper were random ones—nonsense, you might say.”

  “You might say what you please, Sir Nicholas. I know it was a code.”

  “A remarkably astute deduction, if I may say so. And now that you are in possession of this information, what do you propose to do with it?”

  Roberta looked at him quizzically. She had hoped to disconcert him with her revelations, but he looked remarkably self-possessed.

  “I haven’t quite decided,” she said finally. “However, I think the comte will be interested.”