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

liquor didn’t seem to be helping the tightening in his throat, as if his cravat was tied too tightly.
    Aunt Euphemia rose from the settee, sweeping her ribbon-covered skirt aside to start her march to her bedroom. “I’m fagged from our long journey and will retire for the evening. We’ll have time to further pursue my concerns.”
    Aunt Euphemia’s words might sound reassuring, but the promise in her tone was familiar. I’m not done with you, young man.
    Rising from his chair, he offered his arm. “Let me escort you.”
    “Thank you. I’m able to get to my room on my own. You’d better go help your friend. He seemed to be having a difficult time adjusting to the spectacular beauty of your sister.”
    Aunt Euphemia chuckled. “This should be a most interesting season.”

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    Henrietta tore into the paper, too impatient to wait for a knife to open the large package from France. She needed to make this small contact with Michael. Her hands shook with the anxiety that beat through her body.
    Mrs. Brompton stood over Henrietta. “Master Michael has finally sent us the silks from Paris.” When excited, Mrs. Brompton reverted to her past affectations for the Harcourt children she had help raise.
    “Oh, such beautiful silk…look at this purple. How do they achieve the delicate colors?” Mrs. Brompton chattered, unaware of Henrietta’s heightened tension. “What about Edward’s knife?”
    Henrietta held up a triangular shaped, heavily wrapped object for Mrs. Brompton’s inspection. “I assume this is the knife that Edward requested.”
    “Edward is going to be thrilled. We mustn’t open the package.” Mrs. Brompton was as excited by the package as her younger brother would be.
    Henrietta tried to appear calm but she found it hard to breathe, as if her corset strings were tied too tight. She continued to dig through the soft material, hoping for a letter. Even the briefest note would reassure her that her worries over her wayward brother had been for naught. She felt something soft, square. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against the whalebone. Dear God, please….
    She peeled away a sky blue silk to find a worn, brown leather book. She tightened her grasp on the book, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She opened the dog-eared volume, looking for a letter, some word of Michael.
    Leafing through the pages, she examined the columns of numbers—a code table. She immediately recognized that this extensive code table was unique. The pages had endless numbers matched to French letters and words. To the untrained eye, this table would appear no different than the one she used to decipher messages sent to Uncle Charles from the Abchurch offices.
    She focused on the book trembling between her fingertips. Was this some sort of strange and oblique joke, one of Michael’s McGregors? But Michael never joked about linguistics or codes. No one in the Harcourt family joked about such matters.
    A memory floated to the surface—her brother’s high voice fluting down the hallway, calling out to his horrified sister that he had broken one of their mother’s favorite vases. “We’re in a McGregor.” And it seemed nothing had changed over the years. He had her involved in another McGregor.
    “Just in time for the Firth ball.” Mrs. Brompton startled her from her reverie. “Shall I send over the deep green silk to Madame de Puis?” Mrs. Brompton folded the silk carefully over her arm. “Remember how your mama always favored her designs? Your mama was always heads above all the other ladies.”
    Henrietta nodded. From the look of the cover, the book was old but why would Michael send her old French codes. Was this a book of the new codes the French were working on?
    The code developed in the 1700’s was too lengthy and complex to be useful at the battlefront. The French had shortened their coded messages to track troops and communicate strategy. England and France were at peace since the Treaty of