Page 44 of What A Rogue Wants
“My father makes it work.”
An inscrutable look came to Stratmore’s face. “Your father lives in a fantasy. He always has.”
“Are you denying my courtship?” He hated to ask the question because the answer was almost certainly not in his favor. Yet he had to know what he was up against. Too long he’d lived with assumptions that had been wrong. He’d not make that same mistake ever again.
“I’ve never denied my daughter anything. Which is part of her problem.” The duke glanced toward the stained glass window for a moment then finally back. “You belong to the king in body and soul now, which means you’ll never be the man for my daughter. So yes, I’m denying the courtship. Stay away from her; it will be the best for both of you.”
Stratmore spun and walked away.
Grey followed silently behind into the king’s chambers. There was no way in hell he would simply obey Stratmore and not see Madelaine, but what would she do? He could see the enormous desire to please her father on her face. Pushing the problem aside, he focused on the king.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he said after Stratmore and the king had greeted one another. “Shall I wait in the outer chamber for you to conclude your business with Lord Stratmore?”
“No. Stay. My business with Stratmore concerns you as well.”
Grey settled into a chair near a window and opposite the men. The three faced each other, the sound of rain pounding against the window echoed a continuous tap throughout the silent room. Tension knotted Grey’s shoulders, made worse by the wait and the thunder that accompanied the rain. The groan of the heavy door being pulled partially shut seemed to snap the king out of his daze. He ordered all the servants to leave the inner and outer chamber, and the guards were ordered to stand guard at the door to the outer chamber.
Once everyone cleared out, the king leaned forward in his chair, his eyes almost feverish in appearance. “Did you bring it?”
Stratmore glared at Grey then swiftly looked away, nodded and reached inside his coat. He withdrew a rolled up piece of parchment. “It’s complete.” His gaze flicked once again to Grey before returning to the king. “Perhaps we should go over italone?”
Grey ground his teeth. Not only did Stratmore not want Grey to pursue Madelaine, her father didn’t trust him.
“Lord Grey stays.” With that pronouncement, the king sat back, his face abstract in thought. Grey barely contained his triumphant smile.
After a few moments, the king focused on Grey. “The code we use to send strategic plans to our armies has been compromised. One of the French has figured the thing out. We know because the last mission your father undertook was sabotaged.”
Grey tried not to flinch at the news. To think his father could have been killed was bad enough, but Grey’s guilt for the way he’d treated his parents these many years caused a physical ache inside. He wanted to make things right as soon as possible.
The king sighed heavily. “Stratmore has created a new code which will ensure we will once again outsmart Napoleon. He’s here today to teach it to me. Forgive him, Lord Grey, he’s edgy, as always, and wants you to leave. But distrust of everyone is what makes Stratmore an excellent spy.”
“Thank you,” Stratmore murmured, looking more murderous than grateful.
“You’re entirely welcome,” the king said a bit too jovial. Something seemed off about the king’s demeanor today, but Grey couldn’t figure out what.
“Grey needs to stay,” the king continued. “He’ll have to learn the code as well.”
Stratmore nodded, and the king smacked his hands against his knees, his enthusiasm evident in his gesture. “Show me how it works, and then I’ll practice.”
Madelaine’s father unrolled the parchment and laid it on the table in front of them. Excitement quickened Grey’s pulse as he leaned forward. The king traced over the raised letters “QOTM” and “AKUWMK”. “What does it spell?”
“Might I suggest you decode it? I think perhaps it’s the best way to learn.”
The king nodded. “A very sound idea. Tell me how.”
“Well.” Stratmore sidled closer to the table. “Each letter is represented by the sixth letter after it, created thus to stand for the Circle of Six. For example the ‘O—’” Stratmore tapped a finger against the paper “—would be decoded as an ‘I.’ The exception to the six letter rule is the capitol ‘G,’ which is always represented by the first letter of the alphabet, created thus to stand as symbolism of your Christian name ‘George’ who as our leader is always first.”
Digesting what he’d learned, Grey studied the letters to the first word. “QOTM” would actually be the word king. He had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out the answer like an eager child. But hewaseager, by God. He’d not felt this excited about anything in his life.
Grey and Stratmore sat back at the same moment, their gazes locking. Stratmore scowled at him before turning back to the king. Deep in consideration, the king hunched over the scroll, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The time it took for him to decode the word ticked by. Grey’s patience strained along with each passing minute, the wait made worse by Stratmore strumming his fingers against the table and the wind howling against the castle windows. Grey felt as if he were being stretched on a rack and at any minute he might snap.
Finally, the king looked up, his eyes disconcerting in their blackness. Grey blinked. The king’s eye color seemed washed away by an endless, glassy darkness. The king gazed sightlessly at Grey. A terrible feeling about the king and the whispers Grey had heard, but never credited, rose to almost choke off his air. He shook it off, as he’d discarded many ill feelings. He was the king’s man now, for better or worse, he’d protect and serve His Majesty until his death.
“I’ve got it,” the king’s voice lowered to a whisper as if there were someone in the room besides Grey and Stratmore who might hear. “The first word is “king”. The king smiled a disturbingly wide smile which looked more like a jester’s comedic grin than a king’s. The hairs on the back of Grey’s neck stood on end at the same time thunder boomed outside.
“Very good, Your Majesty.”
Grey scrutinized Stratmore. Was it his imagination or was the man talking to the king in a soothing tone?
