The Casanova Code by Donna MacMeans

Author:Donna MacMeans
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical romance, Fiction
ISBN: 9781101569092
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-06-04T21:00:00+00:00

• Thirteen •

“YOU SAY YOU FOUND THIS WHERE?” HIS FATHER looked at him skeptically.

“In between the secret entrance and the inner door of the gallery,” Ashton replied, working hard to keep his expression blank. “It must have fallen out of the pillow book when I hid it in the gallery the night those vigilantes stormed our doorstep.”

His father’s brows lowered in confusion. “I thought I checked there.”

“It was wedged into a corner,” Ashton said, hoping he sounded convincing. He’d never been the best of liars. He’d found no need for it. But this whole coded message incident was teaching him skills he never knew he had. Now he wished he had crumpled the paper a bit to support his story. “I’m not surprised you missed it. I would have overlooked it myself except you mentioned you were missing some sort of correspondence.”

“Did you read it?” his father’s gruff voice barked.

“It looked like gibberish to me, sir. I couldn’t make any sense of it.” He raised his brows in what he hoped was an innocent expression. “Does it have a purpose?”

His father’s glare was certainly not one of appreciation or gratitude. Any hope that discovering the missing message would somehow gain him a level of respect in his father’s eyes vanished.

“No purpose I’d wish to share.” He opened the center drawer beneath his desk and deposited the paper. Ashton tried to see if this was just one of several such notes in the drawer, but his father’s action was too swift to facilitate such an observation. Once he’d closed the drawer, he hunched over his desk as if to further protect the coded message with his presence. “Constance tells me you’re taking her to some silly recital this evening. I’m not certain how you can stomach that sort of poppycock but—”

“I can’t,” Ashton interrupted.

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t stomach that poppycock. I’ve escorted Constance on these many occasions in deference to you, sir. But I don’t enjoy it and I’m having difficulty continuing to do so.”

His father leaned back in his chair with a faint glimmer of respect in his eye. “Is that so?”

“It is.” Ashton gestured to a chair in front of the desk. His father nodded, and Ashton lowered into it. “You’ve sent me out on the road on the drayage carts to observe the various districts, and quite frankly, I’d prefer to spend the evening discussing where improvements can be made with you, than standing by Constance while she chatters incessantly about some nonsense.”

“Improvements?” His brows lowered. “What sorts of improvements?”

“I’ve noticed some of the equipment needs a good overhaul to operate efficiently. We could use the railroad lines much more effectively, and I’ve heard rumblings about a new internal combustion motorcar coming out of Germany that—”

“A motorcar?” His father laughed. “A rich man’s plaything. Next you’ll be saying we should deliver freight from a hot air balloon.” He reached to a crystal decanter to pour himself a snifter of brandy.

Ashton smiled, refusing to take the bait. “Right now the motorcars may be expensive toys used to carry passengers.

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