Page 112 of The Duke's Daring Bride

If she hadn’t marched into his study and demanded he reinstate his support, he would’ve never met her. He would’ve never proposed, and he would’ve never had the chance to learn what a remarkable, joyful, caring person she was.

“My father is another.”

When everyone turned on her, Georgia blushed. “Forgive me for interrupting. I was just pointing out that my father, the Earl of Bonkinbone, invests in Olivia’s paper. I remember him mentioning it last year.”

Olivia’s slow nod seemed thoughtful, her eyes wide. “He is. I hadn’t realized you were his daughter—”

“We are estranged,” Georgia quickly pointed out.

“The bastard disowned her.” Demon’s announcement sounded almost cheerful. “He can go foo—”

Thorne cleared his throat.

Clearly trying not to smile, the man’s wife patted his knee. “Darling, not everyone is accustomed to your particular style of speaking. Perhaps you might moderate your language a bit? Since we are in polite company?”

Olivia was chewing on her bottom lip, as if hiding laughter. “Well, I’m glad you’re not close,” she finally admitted, “because I—we have wondered…” Olivia took a deep breath. “Is it possible your father is somehow involved in Blackrose’s schemes?”

Georgia appeared startled, but to give her credit, she didn’t immediately deny the possibility. Instead, she looked thoughtful.

“I…do not know. He is not a particularly nice or caring man, but I never saw any indication he was interested in betraying his county.”

“Would he do it for his brother?”

Georgia frowned delicately at Thorne’s question. “Again, I am not certain. I suppose he is close with my Uncle William, but it is hard to imagine him as a traitor. What makes you ask?”

Olivia extracted herself from Alistair’s hold and stood. “When Bonkinbone invested in The Daily Movement, his request was that he be allowed to publish private advertisements occasionally. They are always coded, and to be honest, I didn’t think anything of it. He had explained it as a game he played with his brother, although of course I had no idea who that brother was.” By now, she’d crossed to one of the small tables which held a folio. “I spent yesterday digging through our archives, and I’ve collected the messages, along with which dates they were run.”

Thorne had popped to his feet to take the folio, but when she crossed back, Olivia handed them to Georgia and shrugged awkwardly.

“They could be completely innocuous, really, but if they’re messages to Blackrose…”

“He could be part of the bastard’s schemes,” Thorne agreed eagerly, sinking back into his seat, but sitting on the edge. “The Daily Movement was one of the papers Wilson included in his packets to Blackrose. If we could decode them—”

“We could flush him out,” growled Demon. “We could plant fake messages in Olivia’s paper, and lure him back.”

“That is a big if,” Georgia murmured, flipping through the folio. “These are quite complex.”

“We’ll need a code-cracker,” Thorne agreed. “A genius.”

Demon and Georgia exchanged a look, then a nod.

“I will bring them to my sister, Danielle,” Georgia announced. “She has a remarkable mind for puzzles like this, and it will help distract her while her husband is so ill.”

Thorne was frowning. “Can we trust her?”

“Oh yes,” Georgia answered simply. “She realizes her luck in escaping Father’s household, and I have already confided some of the details of the investigation with her.”

“What?” Thorne blurted.

“Look, ye mendacious wank-barnacle, dinnae judge my wife,” growled Demon. “Danielle had to be warned in case her uncle tried to contact her, aye? We needed to ken his location.”

Looking mollified, Thorne settled back in his chair.

Georgia offered him a small smile. “I am certain Danielle would be glad to help, and to have a distraction during this trying time.”

“Well then, excellent.” Thorne rubbed his palms together. “So we have a plan? If Danielle can crack her father’s code, we’ll read through Bonkinbone’s messages. If they are to his brother, we’ll use that to lure him into the open.”

“It’s a long shot,” grunted Demon.

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