It wasn't until he reached the very edge of sleep that another image burned across Gervase's vision. He saw again Mrs. Forester's black lace mittened hands scooping up the forgotten money on the table with frantic haste. Then she had disappeared as the uproar over his disclosures reached its peak.

Chapter 14

"I asked you both here to assist me in a matter regarding Mrs. Waterstone." Gervase focused his attention on Sir John and Nicholas, who occupied the chairs in front of his desk. Nicholas lounged at his ease, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle. Sir John sat hunched forward, as if ready to leap to his feet at any moment.

Gervase unlocked his desk drawer and produced the parchments Elizabeth had been working on. "I found these lying on Mrs. Waterstone's desk last night. When I attempted to lock them securely in her desk, I discovered the key was missing."

Sir John frowned and sat up even straighter. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I'm certain I instructed Mrs. Waterstone to lock up the documents when she finished for the night."

Suddenly, he stopped speaking as if Gervase had stabbed him in the chest and buried his head in his hands. "Devil take it! I took the key from Mrs. Waterstone's desk to get a copy made of it! I completely forgot to give it back to her." He flushed an unbecoming shade of red under Gervase's unimpressed stare and fingered his cravat as though it had suddenly become too tight.

"I don't know what to say, Your Grace, although," he hesitated, "It still does not explain why Mrs. Waterstone didn't put the documents away, does it? Even without the key to the drawer, she could have put them out of sight as I told her to."

"Exactly. I intend to have a polite word with her on the matter of security and hope it was just a mistake." He swung around to meet Sir John's mortified gaze. "May I suggest that you repeat your instructions to Mrs. Waterstone as well? I would hate for any further confusion."

Sir John muttered something unintelligible and turned even redder. He dug in his waistcoat pocket and produced two keys that he handed to Gervase. "These are the keys to Mrs. Waterstone's desk, Your Grace. I can only apologize for my irresponsible behavior and promise it will never happen again."

Gervase took the keys and then turned back to Nicholas, who was regarding the crestfallen Sir John with considerable glee.

"You have been accompanying Mrs. Waterstone on her outings, Nick." Gervase asked. "Has anything untoward happened?"

"There was one thing, Your Grace." He gave an embarrassed laugh. "I'm not sure if it is even worth mentioning."

"If it stuck in your mind, Nick, let's hear it." Gervase sat on the edge of the desk, folded his arms and regarded his young relative intently.

"When we were at Hookham's lending library, Mrs. Waterstone was occupied setting up a reading subscription and I left her alone for a while to wander through the shop. When I returned, I noticed her passing a letter and some money across to the counter clerk."

Nicholas shrugged. "Maybe she didn't realize that, as a member of the House of Lords, you are able to frank her letters for her."

Gervase ran a hand through his hair. "Or maybe she didn't wish me to know whom she was writing to." He let out a breath and turned to stare out of the window. "Keep watching her, Nick and let me know if she engages in anything other than shopping, gossiping or visiting her family. I'm still not completely sure of her."

Sir John and Nicholas stood to leave.

"Could you ask Mrs. Waterstone to give me the pleasure of her company, Nick? I assume you will be meeting her over the breakfast table in the next few minutes."

A smile replaced Nicholas's frown. "Of course I will. I hope she has finished her repast. I would hate to be the one to interrupt her."

"Highly amusing, Nick," Gervase said dryly. "But may I suggest that you hurry? If you leave her for too long there might not be anything left for you and you are such a puny fellow." The duke smiled as Nicholas snorted. "If she complains, you may blame my autocratic nature. She will surely agree with you."

While he waited, Gervase occupied himself by attaching a ribbon to one of the keys that Sir John had returned to him. When Elizabeth entered the room and favored him with a brisk curtsey, he rose and took the key over to her.

"This key belongs to your desk. May I suggest that in future you learn to use it? I found the documents you were working on last night strewn around your desk. It is purely by chance that nobody came in and saw them."

Her smile disappeared and was replaced by a frown. She snatched the key from his fingers and busied herself placing it in her pocket.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I wasn't even aware there was a key to the desk, or a drawer to put things in." She glared up at him. "If someone had bothered to inform me of its existence, I would have been more than happy to make use of it."

"Sir John instructed you to put the documents away. Are you saying he didn't?"

She colored. "I must confess that I was so engrossed in the code that Sir John could have told me the house was on fire and I probably wouldn't have heard him."

Gervase couldn't help but believe her rueful smile and a small tense part of him relaxed. Her explanation was not only plausible but also possible. Standish, his butler, had informed him in shocked tones that Elizabeth had missed her dinner on the previous evening and had made do with a late supper.

He kissed her hand. "Promise me to lock the documents away in future? They are too valuable to be neglected. I would hate for them to fall into the wrong hands."

"I am truly sorry, Your Grace. It was foolish of me to be so careless. I promise you it will not happen again."

"Thank you, my dear." He strolled over to his desk and picked up the sheaf of parchments. "Take these and lock them up now, whilst I watch you."

Elizabeth locked the drawer and replaced the key in her pocket under the duke's gaze. "Will you run upstairs and put on your bonnet and cloak? As I mentioned last night, I've arranged for us to meet with Angelique this morning."

In her absence he donned his hat and a dove-gray driving coat with several shoulder capes. She met him in the hall and he offered her his arm. He was pleased to see that the deep lilac bonnet she had chosen framed her face most charmingly and made the most of her gray eyes.

His top boots shone in the sunlight, as did her hair, as they descended the steps and approached his carriage. The duke glanced at his tiger, who was perched on the back of the vehicle.

"I shan't need you, Joe. You may get down."

Gervase flipped a coin in the boy's direction and he descended with the agility of a monkey. Elizabeth waited until the duke assisted her into the high carriage, then settled her skirts as he walked around to the other side. He retrieved the reins, and they set off at a spanking pace through the busy thoroughfares of London.

After a while, it seemed as if Elizabeth felt able to relax, assured of his competence with the reins. He gave her a sideways glance and concentrated on threading the carriage between a slow-moving brewer's cart and a herd of sheep being driven in from the countryside to market.

"Your Grace, may I ask you something?" Elizabeth inquired as they quit the busier streets and turned down toward the river. The duke gave her a brief nod, his attention on his horses and the steep downward curve of the cobbled street.

"I understand why you need to disguise your work for the government from society, but why do you choose to live as a rake? Surely you don't need to be so, so notorious."

"Ah, does that bother you, Elizabeth? Just think. If I had not been playing cards with your stepfather on that fateful night, we would never have met." He curled his whip and touched the back of the lead horse, correcting his stride. "Do you think I should masquerade as a librarian, an antiquarian, or something more seemly?"

He searched her face. "I can see that you do. Unfortunately, the life of a rake gives me the best access to the type of person I'm trying to capture. And, it suits me very well."

Elizabeth held onto her bonnet as the wind tugged at the ribbons. "Why would the lowest and filthiest scum interest you? Surely they don't possess the ability to make or break code."

Gervase glanced over his shoulder to ensure they were unobserved, pulled over to the side of the road and drew the horses to a halt. They sat looking out over the River Thames where low tide had revealed the mud banks and hidden shallows of the busy river.

"You are correct, my dear, but have you ever considered how information and secrets are passed along, sometimes quite innocently? Think about your own recent experiences. One wrong whisper as to your presence in my house and your reputation would be ruined."

She frowned and he continued speaking. "Let me give you an example," Gervase said. "Imagine that you are a parlor maid in the house of a government minister. In the course of your daily work you will probably hear things of a delicate nature. Gossip about the family, about the minister's job, an endless stream of information that would probably not make much sense to you."

The horses moved restlessly and the duke tightened his grip on the reins. "But what if you told those pieces of information to someone who did have the ability and the desire to make sense of them? Can you not see the possibilities for blackmail or treason?"

"Yes, of course, but how does what a parlor maid might or might not know have anything to do with you?"