A Code of Love (The Code Breakers 1) by Jacki Delecki Page B

he missed?
    He headed back to his rooms, where he would compose a message to Lord Rathbourne. He had no explanation for Kendal’s shooting or information about the assailant to offer his new superior. The new head of espionage was known for his reckless and dangerous escapades in the spy circles. Brinsley hoped the earl would be as tolerant of his lackey’s blunders.
    * * *
    Brinsley walked to the Tuileries at early dawn to send his message. A coded message wasn’t an exposition that allowed room for excuses or explanations. The winter light gave the morning sky a pinkish hue, but the beauty was lost on him. He felt isolated and out of his depth.
    He scanned the park before he moved to the tree assigned for his message. With a spade, he dug to expose the bottle from its hole under the tree. He paused repeatedly to look around the park to make sure no one observed him, then loosened the dirt around the rope and pulled up a green glass bottle from the hole. He inserted the folded message. Placing the bottle back into the ground he covered it with dirt.
    Shaking the dirt from his gloves, he searched the area, wondering if the Spanish or Russians used similar methods to send their secret messages home.
    On his way home, he stopped at the Café Verlet and had an aperitif, the signal that there was a message in the park. In the spy business, there was some subterfuge.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Arriving home late, Cord threw his coat on the marble table in the foyer, ignoring the footman’s arm. The rumor of an attempt to assassinate Henry Addington, the prime minister, had set off a flurry of activity, keeping him at the office late tonight. Approaching the dining room, a growing sense of insecurity sat in his stomach. Aunt Euphemia had that effect on grown men.
    She was going to have a bee in her turban about his mistress’s attendance at the Wentworth Ball. He had compounded his sins by not being home when she and his sister arrived in London. Now, he was late for dinner. He’d gone into enemy territory with less trepidation. He entered the grandiose dining room, feigning an air of confidence, reminding himself that he was an earl.
    His aunt, seated at the head of the formal dining table, was decked out in an outrageously bright green gown and matching turban. He bent down to place a kiss on her powdered cheek. “Aunt Euphemia, it’s a pleasure to have you back at Rathbourne house.” His nervousness disappeared at the look of fondness on the grand lady’s face.
    Aunt Euphemia patted his cheek affectionately. “It’s good to see you, too.”
    Her sharp eyes were focused on his face, assessing him, searching for clues of how he fared. It had been his aunt’s support that had saved him from himself after his brother’s untimely death. “You look well, my boy.”
    “As do you, Aunt Euphemia. You don’t age. If I didn’t know it was to be Gwyneth’s season, I’d believe that you’re the debutante,” he said.
    “Cord, don’t try to work the Rathbourne charm on me.” Her eyes warmed with the compliment. The peacock feather on her turban swayed with her head movement.
    Gwyneth jumped from her seat to greet him.
    He turned and swung his younger sister off her feet. Then he put his hand on his back, pretending to be in pain.
    Gwyneth punched him in his arm and laughed. “I haven’t gained an ounce. I think your years are starting to show. Shall I help you to your seat?” Her dark eyes were filled with the same childhood mischief he remembered.
    “Gwyn, you’re the one who has aged. You’ve become quite a beauty. Ash, what do you say about the little girl who tortured us as a child?”
    Ash, seated next to his aunt, stared at Gwyneth. “She definitely has grown.”
    “Oh, don’t let the gown and hair fool you. She’s still the hoyden we knew growing up.”
    Cord guided Gwyneth back to her chair across from Ash.
    Gwyneth wrapped her shawl around her bare arms, lowering her head coyly. “How am I going to