‘E ngaged to Lord Richard Kestrel,’ Lady Benedict said, her narrowed gaze scanning Deb from her satin slippers to the diamond slide in her curls. Her venom was barely concealed by her cold smile. ‘How you are going up in the world, Deborah! Sister-in-law to a duke! And what a sly puss you are, trapping our most eligible bachelor. Still, I suppose that he has run through half the ladies in the neighbourhood and had to settle down at some point.’
Deb smiled politely. ‘Was it only half the ladies?’ she enquired. ‘Why, Richard told me that it was at least three-quarters.’ She put her head on one side. ‘I do not believe that your name was on the list, however, Lady Benedict.’
Lily Benedict closed her fan with a sharp snap. Her lips thinned. ‘Let us hope for your sake that he has truly reformed,’ she said. ‘Ladies love a reformed rake, but are not so sanguine when he relapses. Excuse me, I must attend to my other guests.’ And with an angry slash of her satin skirts she turned on her heel.
‘That woman is a spiteful cat,’ Olivia said in Deb’s ear. She put her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Are you quite well, Deb?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Deb dragged her gaze away from Lily Benedict’s retreating back. She was a little surprised to find that now the encounter was over, she felt rather shaky. She had seldom encountered such malice and had not expected it from Lady Benedict, who had been a neighbour for the full three years that Deb had been in Midwinter.
‘There was a time when I liked Lady Benedict,’ she said, her brow wrinkling. ‘I thought she was rather nice.’ She heard Olivia’s smothered laugh and gave her sister a look. ‘What? What have I said?’
‘Lily Benedict,’ Olivia said, taking Deb’s arm and steering her away from the other guests, ‘is the most spiteful tabby in Midwinter, Deb! I am amazed that you had never noticed.’
Deb frowned, raking her memory. ‘I suppose there have been times when she has made sharp remarks.’
‘And do not forget what she said when she heard Rachel was to marry Cory Newlyn.’
‘What, that she had thought he was the adventurer, but it seemed that Rachel matched him in more ways than one? I thought that she meant they would enjoy travelling together!’
Olivia laughed. ‘Well, now you know better. She never liked Rachel because Cory Newlyn paid her no attention and she cannot bear to play second fiddle. And now you have prevented her from indulging in her favourite pastime.’
‘Flirting with Richard?’ Deb looked across the room to where Richard was chatting with Ross and John Norton. He looked elegant, distinguished and handsome. She found that just looking at him made her want to smile and yet she felt a strange ache in the region of her heart. ‘Richard and Lady Benedict…’ she said. ‘Do you think that they-?’
‘No,’ Olivia said decisively. ‘That is why she is so cross with you, Deb. She thought that she had a chance and now she sees that there is none.’
Deb felt the heartache melt away and a little smile curve her lips. ‘Oh, I see.’ A shadow touched her. ‘But she said that Richard had run through half the ladies of the neighbourhood.’
Olivia laughed. ‘She would say that, wouldn’t she? Wake up, Deb! Not everyone is as straightforward as you are.’
‘I suppose not,’ Deb said. She felt a little naïve. ‘Poor Lady Benedict. I suppose it cannot be pleasant for her to have a bedridden husband.’
‘And to be denied the pleasure of flirting with the most attractive man in the neighbourhood,’ Olivia said. ‘Do you really feel sorry for her?’
Deb examined her feelings. ‘No, not at all. How horrid I am! Still…’ she lowered her voice ‘…I must remember that this is merely a pretend betrothal, Liv, not the real thing.’
Olivia drew her down to sit on a rout chair in a quiet alcove. ‘I know you explained this to me this afternoon,’ she said softly, ‘but are you sure that is all there is to it, Deb?’
‘Of course.’ Deborah fidgeted with her gloves, evading her sister’s gaze. ‘Richard and I have made an arrangement. I thought you understood.’
‘I understood what you told me,’ Olivia said drily, ‘but, if I am to believe the evidence of my own eyes, I find it difficult to credit that this is only a business arrangement.’
She put one hand over Deb’s clasped ones. ‘Deb, are you sure that your feelings are not involved?’
Deb blushed. She looked across at Richard again. As though aware of her regard, he glanced up and smiled at her, his wicked, heart-stirring smile. Deb’s blush deepened.
There was nothing remotely businesslike about the feelings that Richard had awakened in her that morning, nor was the arrangement that they had made a practical one. She felt wicked and wanton and lighter than air.
‘Deb,’ Olivia said, ‘your thoughts are wandering.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps that is the answer to my question.’
Deb blinked and dragged her scattered thoughts into some kind of order. ‘I beg your pardon, Liv. My feelings-’ She stopped and looked at her sister. ‘I am not sure.’
‘Ross and I were saying,’ Olivia said, with studied casualness, ‘that Richard seems to like you a great deal. Enough to wish to make the betrothal a reality.’
Nervousness clutched at Deb. Marriage was a different matter entirely. The thought of it terrified her. It had taken all her courage to ask Richard to be her lover and even now she could not quite believe the risk she was prepared to take.
‘I do not wish to marry again,’ she said quickly. ‘You know that, Liv! Besides, I do not believe Lord Richard seeks marriage.’
Olivia was soothing. ‘I understand how you feel, but you may find your feelings are quite the opposite when you have had the chance to grow to know Richard better.’ She smiled. ‘He has been a rake, but perhaps now he wishes to lead a more settled life? If you could trust him sufficiently-’
‘I do trust him,’ Deb said. ‘That is, I trust him not to deliberately hurt me the way that Neil did. What I do not trust is myself! I believe my aversion to marriage goes too deep to be overcome, no matter Lord Richard’s feelings.’
‘Perhaps I am reading too much into this,’ Olivia said placidly. ‘It is, as you say, foremost a matter of business.’
Deb looked suspiciously at her sister. She knew Olivia well and was not taken in by her insouciant air. In addition, there was Ross’s peculiar behaviour. Her brother-in-law had been surprisingly complaisant when Deb had broken the news of the betrothal to him earlier in the day. Deb had been expecting both Ross and Olivia to express their disapproval in the strongest possible terms and had been amazed at their reaction. Olivia had said mildly that although a pretence of a betrothal was not the sort of thing she could encourage, she understood her sister’s reasons for wishing to avoid their father’s plans. Ross had said that he never could follow Deb’s logic, but he wished her luck. Deb had been so astounded that she had challenged him.
‘I am betrothed to Richard Kestrel,’ she had pointed out. ‘Richard Kestrel! Surely you must disapprove, Ross?’
‘Would you like me to?’ her brother-in-law had asked mildly. ‘I could object if you wish, but Richard is the greatest of good fellows, and my only opposition, Deb, springs from the fact that this is not a genuine engagement.’
With that he had kissed her cheek, exchanged a meaningful look with his wife, and strolled out of the room.
And now Olivia was contemplating the same betrothal with something approaching complacence. It made Deb wonder what it was that they knew that she did not.
She glanced back at Richard. The only thing she could think of that could account for Ross’s good humour was if he knew Richard’s intentions were honourable and that was manifestly absurd. Richard had told her that he had told Ross the truth about their betrothal agreement, so there could be no misunderstanding. For a moment Deb thought about what might happen were Richard to make her a declaration. The cold fear of marriage that had held her in its grip for years had not diminished, yet alongside it was a small but tantalising glimmer of hope. Deborah crushed it. She had thought very carefully about her proposal to Richard. She ached to experience the passion that she had starved for all these years. Yet even in that she had limited the risk she was taking by specifying that it would only be for the duration of the fictitious betrothal. She had no wish to tumble headlong in love with Richard and be at the mercy of her feelings again. She had to be able to let him go.
‘How has the Duke greeted the news of his brother’s betrothal?’ Olivia enquired, glancing across to where Justin Kestrel partnered Helena Lang in the country dance.
Deb fidgeted with her fan. ‘He has been everything that is charming to me, though Richard says that he teases him mercilessly in private.’ Deb shifted slightly and the rout chair squeaked protestingly. ‘Truth to tell, Liv, I cannot like it that Richard’s family now know of the betrothal. It was only intended as a private arrangement and now I feel a little trapped…’
Once again Olivia looked so blandly unconcerned that Deb started to feel quite irritated.
‘If you have agreed with Richard that you may break the engagement when it has served its purpose, then I do not see that you need be concerned,’ she said.
Deb frowned. ‘I know that. It is merely…’ She waved her fan vaguely. ‘It makes it more difficult for me to end it…’
‘Because you do not wish to appear heartless?’
Deb frowned harder. ‘It is not only that. People have been so kind. Most people,’ she amended, thinking of Lady Benedict. ‘The Dowager Duchess of Kestrel will hear of it soon and then no doubt she will write to me. The Duke tells me that she has been wanting her sons to marry this age, and will be aux anges to hear the news.’
‘Perhaps you should consider telling them that it is only a convenient arrangement,’ Olivia suggested. ‘That way there would be no misunderstanding when you jilt Lord Richard.’
Deb winced. She had deliberately avoided using that word in both her thoughts and her conversation, for it made her feel rather tawdry. Yet she had to accept it. That was exactly what she was planning for Richard once he had served his purpose-and not merely his purpose as her short-term fiancé, either. She deliberately turned her thoughts away from her plan and the strangely mixed feelings that it was starting to arouse in her and thought about the other arrangement she had made with Richard, which involved neither plights of troth nor benefit of clergy.
What would happen during their nights of passion? Deb shivered as a wave of heat started at her toes and swept over her entire body as she considered what it might entail. Seduction by a rake…The thought was both delicious and terrifying. She almost shivered. Once she had tasted the pleasure that she knew Richard could give her would she really be able to turn her back on it? Her body craved the sensual delight that she had never experienced before. Starved of physical love, she longed for Richard’s touch. Her mind whispered that she craved more than that and she firmly ignored the thought. This was all that she dared afford.
She looked up to see Olivia watching her, a wry smile on her lips.
‘Whatever it is that you are drinking,’ Olivia said drily, nodding at her glass of lemonade, ‘I would like some. You look like a girl in love, Deb, for all your protestations of pretend betrothals! You are burning up with excitement.’
Deb smiled. ‘No, you are quite mistaken. I was merely wondering, rather improperly, whether Lord Richard is indeed the rake everyone claims.’
‘No,’ Olivia said decisively, ‘I think not.’ She turned her amused blue gaze on her sister. ‘You look disappointed, Deb! But only consider-how could he be? In the time that he has been in Midwinter I do not think that he has seduced a single lady! His reputation is all hearsay and no substance.’
Deb laughed. ‘He tried to seduce me last year,’ she pointed out.
‘You are the only one and now you are betrothed to him.’ Olivia raised her brows. ‘So perhaps it is for you to find out.’
‘Liv!’ Deb exclaimed at this frank echo of her own thoughts. She changed the subject quickly. ‘Have you tried the face cream that I gave you yet?’
‘Yes,’ Olivia said, blushing. ‘I did not think it smelled much of roses but it was delightfully smooth and I was careful to use only a small amount.’
‘Good,’ Deb said. ‘You mentioned earlier that you and Ross had been talking?’
‘Oh, yes, we have.’ For a moment Olivia looked young and charmingly ruffled. ‘We had quite a long conversation about your betrothal, and another about our plans for this autumn, and on both occasions we managed not to quarrel.’ She looked a little perplexed. ‘It is odd though, Deb…Ross keeps looking at me in a particular way, as though he is expecting me to say something or do something…yet I do not know what!’
Deb raised her brows. ‘Does he? How intriguing!’ She laughed. ‘Has Ross come to your bed again, Liv?’
‘Deb!’ Olivia looked quickly over her shoulder to make sure that no one had overheard. She drooped a little. ‘No, he has not.’
‘Well, never mind,’ Deb said bracingly. ‘Unless I miss my guess, he is about to ask you to dance and that is a good start. This aphrodisiac cream must be potent!’
‘Hush!’ Olivia said, blushing scarlet. She turned a becomingly pink face to her husband as Ross strolled across and smiled down at her. Deb was intrigued to see an unmistakable spark of masculine interest in Ross’s eyes. It was just as Olivia had said-he was looking at his wife as though he had not really seen her before.
‘They put the most remarkable ingredients in face cream these days,’ she said mischievously.
Olivia kicked her ankle. ‘Deb, hush! Ross…’ She smiled very sweetly. ‘Are you enjoying the evening?’
‘Not as much as I shall be once I have persuaded my beautiful wife to dance with me,’ Ross said. He took Olivia’s hand, turned it over and pressed a kiss on the palm. ‘Shall we?’
Olivia’s mouth formed a small, astonished ‘o’ of pleasure. ‘I should be delighted,’ she said.
Even Deb stood staring at this unlikely sight. She had not expected the face cream to work quite so quickly or effectively. She was so surprised that she did not even see Richard approach her until, most reprehensibly, he slid an arm about her waist. His lips brushed the sensitive skin of her neck and Deb shivered pleasurably. She turned within the circle of his arm, her hand against his chest.
‘For shame, sir! We are in a public place…’
Beyond Richard’s shoulder she could see the dancers dipping and swaying, but she scarcely registered them. Her whole attention was focussed on Richard, the hard warmth of his chest beneath her hand, the intensity in his eyes, the wicked smile on his lips.
‘And I am enjoying myself,’ he said, ‘so do not stop me, I beg you.’
Deb’s lips twitched. ‘Was enjoying oneself a part of the plan?’ she asked.
‘Surely. If we are to be betrothed, then we should make it as pleasurable as possible, though this is nowhere near as pleasurable as what will happen soon…’
Deb’s heart leapt in her chest, her blue eyes wide as they scanned his face. The laughter within her died, banished by a heated excitement. She saw the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.
‘Unfortunately it will not be tonight, sweetheart, unless you continue to look at me like that, in which case I may well carry you straight out of the ballroom and make love to you here and now.’
Deb hastily recalled herself to their surroundings. ‘Come and dance,’ she said. ‘I believe that, rather than anything else, is the appropriate activity for a ballroom.’
It was a quadrille, which gave no opportunity for intimate conversation since Deb was obliged to move away from her partner swiftly and chat with a variety of gentlemen as she walked through the steps. She ended with Owen Chance, whom she had not seen since the day at the Customs House. He gave her a charming smile as he took her hand, and once the dance was ended, was swift to draw her to one side so that they could speak further. Deb, aware that Richard had been dancing with Lady Benedict and was yet to leave her side, saw no reason to excuse herself from Mr Chance.
‘I hear I am to congratulate you,’ Owen said, smiling in the open and friendly manner that had made Deb warm to him when they had met at Lady Sally Saltire’s ball. ‘Or, more properly, it is Lord Richard who should be congratulated since he has gained a treasure beyond price in persuading you to be his bride!’
Deb smiled. ‘Thank you, sir. That is a pretty compliment.’ She took his arm for the customary turn about the floor. ‘Now that you have been here a little while,’ she said, ‘how are you enjoying Midwinter?’
Owen laughed. ‘It is an odd, secretive place, Mrs Stratton. On the surface everything is charming and bright-’ he waved his hand descriptively about the ballroom ‘-but beneath the surface all manner of currents flow.’
Deb raised her brows. ‘How very mysterious! Whatever can you mean, sir?’
Owen shrugged a little uncomfortably. ‘Why, merely that while we dance here there are probably smugglers dragging their cargo up a beach not five miles distant, or privateers ploughing the ocean close to shore…’
‘And should you not be out there catching them, sir?’
Owen laughed, his teeth very white in his dark face. ‘I should, but I would rather be here dancing with you, ma’am!’
Deb shook her head in mock reproach. ‘Tempted from your duty by other distractions, sir?’
‘I admit it. There are other occupations far more attractive than chasing smugglers.’
Deb raised her brows. It was flattering to be the object of Mr Chance’s admiration, but even as she enjoyed his attentions she was aware that they stirred nothing deeper in her. There was not the clutch of excitement that she felt when Richard so much as looked at her, nor the quiver of feeling that ran through her at the touch of his hand.
‘You are an accomplished flirt, sir,’ she said, smiling. ‘I had no notion that the Revenue Service trained its Riding Officers in the art of flattery, but now that I think of it I imagine it must be a very useful accomplishment. You will wheedle all manner of secrets from the ladies.’
Owen Chance’s eyes lit with laughter. ‘I do believe you have divined my strategy, Mrs Stratton!’
They were still laughing when Lady Benedict slid up to them and insinuated her slender body between the two of them.
‘Mr Chance…’ she slanted a look up at him, her expression sultry ‘…I do believe you are monopolising Mrs Stratton. Let me take you away and…dance…with you…’
Deb saw the flash of expression in Owen Chance’s eyes and felt a little shock go through her as she registered how much he disliked Lady Benedict. Fortunately, however, her ladyship did not appear to have noticed, for she was busy admiring her reflection in the long ballroom mirrors. And when Owen Chance spoke, it was so smooth and polite that Deb wondered whether she had made a mistake.
‘With the greatest of pleasure, Lady Benedict,’ he said, taking her arm and leading her towards the nearest set.
Deb frowned as she watched them walk away. She had intended to ask Richard what he thought about Mr Chance’s opinion of Lily Benedict, but when he came to claim her for another dance she forgot about Owen Chance almost immediately and did not give him another thought for the rest of the evening.
It was late when they returned to Marney. Deb had agreed to spend the night there rather than require the coach to take her on to Mallow, but when they reached the house it was to find it in uproar. Whilst they had been away at the ball, the drawing room had been ransacked and some items stolen, chief amongst them Olivia’s engraved glass vases.
‘The most extraordinary thing,’ Olivia said, as she and Deb surveyed the damage the following day, ‘was that so very few items were taken or spoilt. It is only the glass really. I suppose that Ford interrupted them. He was making his rounds to check that all the doors and windows were locked and surprised the thief in the act.’
Looking around, Deb was a little puzzled. There was none of the chaos and untidiness that normally accompanied a burglary. There were no papers scattered over the floor, the desk had not been emptied and the valuable collection of china that Ross’s mother, the late Viscountess Marney, had collected throughout her life, remained pristine and undamaged.
‘How shocking for Ford,’ she said. ‘How is he this morning?’
Olivia was looking at the cherry-wood display case, her face wrinkled in perplexity. ‘Oh, he is much recovered, thank you. Mrs Hillman dosed him up with milk laced with Ross’s best whisky and honey for the shock, and the poor man was unconscious before they could even carry him to his bed! Ross was not too pleased either! I have told Ford to rest today, though I have no conviction that he will obey me. He does not like to think of the household running without him.’ She touched Deb’s sleeve lightly. ‘Come and look at this, Deb. Do you see how they forced the lock on my display cabinet? It is almost as though they were looking for something specific.’
Deb ran her fingers over the rough wood about the splintered lock. ‘Did they take everything from here, Liv?’
Olivia shook her head. ‘No, for they were interrupted before they could empty it. Some of the glasses that Ross purchased at the Customs House auction are still here. They are very pretty, but they have no real value. I cannot understand it…’
Deb opened the lid of the case and picked up one of the remaining glasses. She had never seen them properly since it was only by accident that she had bid for them in the first place and it was Ross who had paid and brought them home. Now she turned the object over in her hands, admiring the quality of the crystal and the delicate engraving of a seagull on one side. It was beautifully executed, caught in full flight, with the wind beneath its wings.
‘The glass is very fine and the workmanship exquisite,’ she said. ‘I imagine they must be worth far more than Ross paid for them.’
‘I expect they are worth a lot to a collector,’ Olivia agreed, taking out the second of the six and examining it. ‘Ross said that John Norton approached him with a view to buying them, but as I had already expressed an interest in starting a collection, Ross would not sell.’
Deb frowned. ‘But Sir John was at the auction. He could have purchased them then.’
‘Maybe he was caught by surprise when you outbid him,’ Olivia said drily. ‘Look at the engraving on this anchor, Deb! Is it not the most delicate thing? An artist must have great skill to create such work.’
Deb bent her head and studied the picture. There was something about it that stirred a memory, although she could not place it. She looked at the engravings on the other glasses. They all carried two pictures, one on each side of the glass. The one with the seagull had a tree on the other side. The one engraved with an anchor had the sun on its reverse, and there was another with a ship, that also bore a picture of a small cottage.
‘That one is rather attractive, is it not?’ Olivia said, with a smile. ‘The cottage looks very pretty…I cannot recall the pictures on the other glasses but they were all very finely drawn. There were twelve glasses originally, but the thief must have got away with six of them.’
Something clicked in Deb’s memory and instead of the glass in her hand she saw a sheet of paper with cipher symbols on it. She put the engraving down quickly and turned to her sister.
‘Liv-’ she began.
The door opened.
‘Lord Richard Kestrel has called to see you, madam,’ Ford announced. His tone was slightly more quavering than normal, although whether that was due to the shock of the previous night, or the whisky still coursing through his blood, Deb was unsure.
Olivia was smiling. ‘Oh, show him in, Ford! And pray send to the long paddock to tell Lord Marney that Lord Richard is here. Lord Richard!’ She advanced towards him, hand outstretched. ‘How kind of you to call. You can see that we are not in as parlous a state as last night’s reports may have led you to believe.’
‘I am glad to see that the experience has not overset you, ma’am,’ Richard said, a twinkle in his eyes. He bowed to her and then came across to Deb, taking her hand.
‘Good morning, Deborah. How are you?’
‘I am very well, thank you, my lord,’ Deb said, feeling a quite-out-of-proportion pleasure that now they were betrothed, albeit fictitiously, he could address her in so personal a manner. ‘It is fortunate that you are here,’ she added, ‘for there is something I need to speak to you about. Urgently. In private,’ she amended, for good measure.
Richard gave her a quizzical look. ‘Is there?’
‘Yes,’ Deb said. ‘Perhaps you would care to come with me to the conservatory and inspect Olivia’s collection of Buxus sempervirens? They are very fine.’
‘Are they?’ Richard said. ‘Then I cannot wait to see them.’ He turned to Olivia. ‘If you would excuse us, Lady Marney?’
‘Of course,’ Olivia said, smiling widely. ‘Since you are betrothed, there can be no objection to you spending a little time alone together. I had no notion that you were so interested in my horticultural work, Deb!’ she added. ‘You must let me show you my cuttings from the Campsis radicans.’
Deb managed to look suitably grateful. ‘Dear Liv, I should be delighted. Just now, however, I do not wish to delay Lord Richard, who is no doubt anxious to be away to discuss horseflesh with Ross.’
‘Of course,’ Olivia said sweetly.
Deb grabbed Richard’s arm and hurried him out into the hall, closing the door behind them. ‘There is something that I need to tell you about the burglary,’ she said.
She looked around. One of the housemaids was polishing the big windows by the front door, her hand moving slowly as she gawped through the glass at the groom who was leading a horse through its paces on the gravel sweep outside.
‘We cannot talk here,’ she added. ‘We had best go and see these miniature box trees, or whatever it is that Olivia has in the conservatory.’
‘That sounds like the sort of invitation I would issue,’ Richard said, with a grin, but there was a keen expression in his eyes as he took her arm and they walked down the corridor into the cool green space of the conservatory beyond. Deb unlatched the door and drew him inside, taking a seat on the rustic wooden bench and gesturing to Richard to do the same. All pretence of indolence had dropped from his manner and he watched her with acute interest.
‘What is it you have to tell me?’ he asked softly.
‘Olivia has a collection of glasses that are engraved with the same symbols that were on the secret message,’ Deb said, trying not to allow the disturbing effects of his proximity to distract her from her tale. ‘I saw them for the first time this morning and recognised the symbols at once-’ She broke off at a soft oath from Richard.
‘Tell me the entire story, please,’ he said tersely.
Deb did so, trying conscientiously to relate it in order and leave nothing out. She told him how she had accidentally bid for the glasses at the Customs House auction, how Sir John Norton had bought a second set and tried to purchase the first from Ross and how half of them had been stolen the previous night. Richard listened and ventured no comment, but Deb could tell he was weighing her words with sharp perception.
‘But I cannot understand the connection with the cipher,’ she finished. ‘Why were the same symbols on the glasses as on the message? It makes no sense.’ She spread her hands. ‘No one would use engraved glasses to pass secret messages! It would be far too cumbersome a process and take too long.’
Richard nodded. ‘That’s true. Most messages are undoubtedly written and passed by hand, like the sheet you found in the book. A spy network might, however, use engraved glasses as the master cipher.’ He drove his hands into his pockets and got to his feet, pacing the floor thoughtfully.
‘I do not understand,’ Deb ventured, after a moment.
Richard shot her a look. ‘In a written code, the letter A, for example, might in reality represent the letter P. You would go through your secret message substituting all the As for Ps and the same with every other pair of letters, to spell out the message. But this is a pictorial code and until today we had no idea what the pictures meant. But it could be very simple.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘You said that each glass bears two pictures. Suppose, for example, that this is the master you need to break the code. A glass with a picture of the sea and a picture of the sun…’
‘Oh!’ Deb’s face cleared. ‘You mean that in the message, the symbol of the sun might represent the sea.’
‘Precisely. The pictures are in pairs. If we went back to our secret message and saw that the first symbol was of the sea, we could conclude that the sign we need to replace it with is that of the sun.’
Deb pulled a face. She was struggling. Cryptography evidently was not her strong point. ‘It still does not make sense, however,’ she complained. ‘What does the picture of the sun actually mean?’
‘Daylight?’ Richard hazarded. ‘There might be a corresponding one of the moon to represent night-time.’
‘There is!’ Deb said excitedly. ‘There was a crescent moon and a full moon!’
Richard smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘How gratifying. I do believe that we may at last be close to understanding the code.’
‘Except that we only have six of the glasses,’ Deb said, deflating, ‘and no way of knowing how many there were in the first place.’
Richard’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps that is something we could work on from the other end,’ he said. ‘Find the engraver. I doubt it can be anyone locally, for that might draw too much attention. London seems more likely. I shall send word to Lucas.’
Deb laughed. ‘Or we could find the other glasses! Procure invitations to all the houses in Midwinter and see who is using engraved glasses for their wine!’
Richard’s face was grim. ‘I suspect that that is exactly what they are doing-right under our noses! It would be typical of the damnable arrogance of these spies, drinking toasts to the King with glasses that proclaim their treason. It is a trick that has been used before. The Jacobites did it last century.’
‘Raising their glasses to the King across the water,’ Deb said, remembering Mrs Aintree’s history teaching.
‘And inscribing coded messages on the glass as well.’
Deb was frowning. ‘There are still many questions. What were the glasses doing at the auction? And who was responsible for the burglary? It cannot be John Norton or Lily Benedict, or Lady Sally, for they were all at the ball last night. I suppose there must be someone else in the Midwinter spy’s employ…’
Richard shook his head. ‘I confess that that is one of the things that puzzles me,’ he said. ‘The greater number of people involved, the greater the risk of exposure. It makes sense to keep the matter between as small a group as possible.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder if there is someone we have overlooked…’
‘There is no one else,’ Deb pointed out. ‘At the least, there is no one else connected with the reading group.’
‘No.’ Richard straightened. ‘I had better go and take a look at those remaining six glasses. I would like to know what pairs of symbols we do have.’ He took Deb’s hands. ‘For goodness’ sake, be careful, Deborah. I mislike your involvement in this.’
He pulled her to her feet. They were standing very close together. Richard caught her up in his arms and planted a hard, swift kiss on her mouth.
‘Be careful,’ he repeated, as his lips left hers.
‘I understand,’ Deb said. She rubbed her fingers over his lapel. ‘You do not want anything to happen to me-’
‘No,’ Richard said. He looked so fierce that Deb almost flinched. ‘I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you.’
Their eyes met and held. Deborah took a short, shaken breath. She felt even more dazed by his tenderness than by the kiss, for there had been so much intensity in his eyes that it frightened her. She realised that he was about to say something else. Nervousness gripped her.
‘Go,’ she said. ‘Ross will be awaiting you.’
‘Deb-’ Richard said.
Deb felt terrified, as though she was on the edge of a precipice, with insufficient courage to carry her through.
‘Please,’ she said beseechingly. ‘I will speak with you later, Richard.’
She saw the stubborn determination on his face and felt almost suffocated by feelings that she could not begin to understand. She turned on her heel and left him standing there, and she knew even as she went that once again it was herself she was running away from, and not he.