Favorites from Christmas Revels by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Singing Spring Press
Published: 2020-10-16T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Frances shot him a glare over her shoulder. “Then sit down here next to me and stop lurking like a vulture. You, too, Papa.”

Both men sat, and John breathed in the heady smell of wildflowers. He was able to smell few things, and none of them as delicate as her scent.

She paid no attention to him, allowing him to stare at her as much as he dared in her father’s presence. He liked Sir Edmund and didn’t want to annoy him, but the man’s daughter was a fascinating blend of clever and lovely.

“I think we can rule out word transposition,” she finally said, handing John the notes she had made. “Do you agree?”

John looked it over. Her work was faultless. “Yes, I do. Your work is very clear.”

“Father?”

Sir Edmund hid a huge yawn behind his hand. “I’m sure you did well.”

She rose. “Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow? I’m certain no one will miss me until luncheon. What does your schedule look like tomorrow, my lord?”

John stood quickly and waited for Sir Edmund to rise to his feet. “I’m sure I can schedule some time in the morning to meet with you. Sir Edmund?”

“I’m at your disposal.” He tried to hide another yawn.

“Ten o’clock should be good. We’ll meet back here then. Remember, this is a secret endeavor necessary to the wellbeing of our country. Tell no one.” John turned away to return to his rooms to take off his hot, hated mask.

“You’re welcome,” Frances said behind him.

He swung around. “Excuse me?”

“When someone does you a favor, it is customary to say thank you. I was simply replying.”

Before she could turn around and flounce out, John crossed the room to her side. “You should thank me for inviting you to assist your country. Assist in a way, I might add, that uses your…surprising talents.”

Once again, he was the recipient of her scowl. “No more surprising than learning you were a spy. Stealing secrets.”

“I was working for my country,” he growled in a tone he once used on incompetent soldiers.

“So am I, apparently.” She turned and marched out of his study, a study in violet sternness.

Her father made a helpless gesture and followed her.

John Ogilvy, Earl of Wolfbrook, looked at the papers in his hand. The top sheet was the grid Miss Smith-Pressley used to come to her first conclusion about the message. Her neat penmanship danced before his eyes.

Furious, he threw the papers on his desk and stormed out to his room, untying his mask as he went.

***

Her father caught up to Frances as she reached the main staircase. “Really, my dear, we should—”

“No, Papa, we really shouldn’t. If you’re going in to visit with Mama and the company, please tell them I have a headache and beg to be excused. However, I doubt anyone will ask.”

Before she could flee up the stairs, her father reached out for her arm. “You need to develop an understanding of these people to guide you in finding our traitor.”

“I can’t talk to these men.

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