Page 12 of How to Seduce a Viscount
Wren laughed at his toast and he took a ridiculous amount of pleasure in having made her smile. Making women smile came naturally to him, so why it should matter so greatly that he could make this one specifically smile bore thinking on. Perhaps it was because she’d nearly died in his care. Perhaps he felt responsible for her. Or perhaps it was simply because he liked her. She was easytolike. She was pretty and intelligent, they shared certain key similarities and she had no intention of ensnaring him in marriage. In short, she was perfect for him.
She took a forkful of the thick pie and closed her eyes as she chewed. ‘This is delicious,’ she said after she swallowed. ‘Something I’ve appreciated in my travels throughout the Continent for the earl is a chance to eat many regional cuisines. Bouillabaisse in Marseilles, ratatouille in Provence, pasta in Florence. Food marks a region. It defines a culture.’
She might have said more. Luce was too busy staring at her, the pieces that had eluded him all week finally tumbling into place. ‘That is exactly it,’ he said excitedly. ‘The food in the message. That’s the hidden school. It’s all about the menu for the meal they discuss. The dates, the grapes, the kebabs…they all stand for something. We just have to figure out what it is.’ He rose from the table, cottage pie forgotten, his mind racing. ‘I’ve got a book of foods from the region here somewhere that details their histories and import to the culture. We can start with that.’
She laughed. ‘We are going to finish our food while it is hot. Bring the message and your book to the table. We can work a little while we eat. But we’re definitely not letting this food go to waste.’Ah, a compromise, Luce chuckled to himself as he retrieved the book. He’d known from the start this woman would demand them of him and he’d not been wrong.
Chapter Six
Luce was right. Wren stared at the map spread on the library table anchored with paperweights, its surface dotted with various figurines they’d collected from the around the room to act as ships and troops. The hidden school was indeed the food and the meal itself. The mantel clock chimed a sonorous reminder that it was past midnight. They’d left their cottage pie and red wine hours ago.
Wren stifled a yawn, exhausted. This was her longest day by far since her injury but it would take more than sleepiness to drag her from Luce’s side. If he could keep working, so could she, although she was starting to think he was indefatigable. His brilliant mind showed no signs of slowing down. The library table bore testament to his mental agility. Books lay open, key pages marked. She’d appointed herself the official note taker so that he could pace and think out loud.
To watch Luce Parkhurst in action as he worked through a puzzle, methodical and sure, was yet another revelation of his depths. His reputation in certain circles was by no means overstated. She took a small measure of pride in knowing she’d contributed a little.
‘Wren, read back the notes on the figs.’ Luce leaned against the table, palms braced on the tabletop, shirtsleeves rolled up,his coat long since discarded as he studied the map. He looked a wonderful, wild mess, his glasses sliding down his nose, his waves askew. His rather glorious backside on display in those tight breeches made her mouth go dry. How was a girl—even a well-seasoned girl such as herself to whom the male body was not a mystery—supposed to think with all that masculine geometry on display—the broad shoulders, the lean waist and those long, muscled legs?
She cleared her throat and read back the information. Luce moved one of the objects on the map and stood back. ‘There, that makes more sense.’ He turned to her, a smile taking his face, a spark in his eye as if he’d done battle with a foe and conquered it. ‘I think we’ve got it. Check my math, as it were.’
She left her notes and came to stand beside him as he began. ‘The Ottomans no longer control the Ruemli.’
He traced a circle on the map with one long finger. How had she not noticed the elegance of his hands before? A little thrill ran through her at the thought of those hands on her, touching her with the same reverence he touched his books.
‘They still hold Athens though and a Greek state cannot be complete without it. They have the advantage there.’
He tapped the paperweight representing the Ottomans in Athens.
‘The Greeks will have to take the city. It’s no secret that’s where the next battle will comeifthe Greeks can get that far.’
Reaching for a dog figurine positioned in the water, he continued. ‘That’s where the note comes in. The Ottomans are going to blockade the Saronic Gulf, here. In order to stop supplies to Eleusis, or Eleusina if you prefer the modern name, there.’
Luce tapped another spot of land at the north end of the gulf and drew a circle around Eleusina and the surrounding hills. ‘The Ottomans are tired of General Karaiskakis harrying themon the ground and winning. He’s taken territory and disrupted their own supply chain.’
Wren nodded, processing what that meant. ‘Eleusina is a vital part of the supply line for Greek forces.’
She knew just how vital it was. As Falcon, she had been there in the spring, supped with the Greek guerillas while she gathered intelligence for the Sandmore network.
‘Instead of fighting Karaiskakis on the ground and risk losing as they have been, they’ll strangle him and prevent him from fighting at all. No supplies mean no army.’
Anger flooded her. ‘Karaiskakis has fought all autumn, making victories out of nothing, winning back ground lost this past spring. There is no money for salaries for his soldiers. The men who fight with him do so out of their love for independence or out of their love of him. To be thwarted now…’ She let the thought trail off in frustration and impotence. She made a fist. ‘When will England officially join the fight? It’s been six years! The British navy would be quite helpful in protecting the gulf just now.’
Luce folded his arms across his chest, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘Wehavesent funds and arms. Six hundred thousand pounds in gold, in fact.’ Luce’s jaw was tight as he issued the reminder and she recognised too late that in her own passion she’d stepped out of line. His brother had sacrificed himself for the cause.
‘All the more reason to see the effort succeed.’ She placed a conciliatory hand on his arm, her tone soft. ‘People, your own brother, have given much individually. It would be a shame to falter at the last.’
She had travelled the breadth of the Continent in aid of the cause and at no small risk to herself. The Ottomans were in earnest. She did not want her efforts to be in vain.
‘Grandfather is doing his best to assist with private support while rallying more overt troops and aid in Parliament.’ Luce made his usual gesture, a hand raking through the thick depths of his dark waves. ‘We have done our jobs, Wren. You deliver information, I decode it.Wedon’t make policy. That is for others.’ He drew a deep breath and they stood silently for a long while, staring at the table, at the map, frustrations ebbing away in the wake of accomplishment. At some point, they’d moved together, perhaps it was she who’d taken the small step, or perhaps it had been him so that now they stood side by side, arms wrapped about one another’s waists in silent communion.
‘Do you realise what we’ve done tonight?’ Luce’s voice was low, private. ‘We’ve saved lives, Wren. Possibly thousands of them. Grandfather can use this information to rally support. General Karaiskakis can use it to stockpile supplies, evacuate civilians if need be and better position his troops to great effect. Perhaps he will be able to prevent or offset the blockade.’ His grin widened, the spark back in his dark eyes. ‘We might have created a turning point in the war. The last push needed to see victory.’
‘You did. You solved the code. You were the one who figured out the food represented different ships and the courses the geographic placement. I was merely a dogsbody taking notes and fetching books,’ Wren corrected.
‘You gave me the idea when I couldn’t see past my own thoughts.’ Luce gave her an appreciative squeeze. ‘We make a good team.’ He nodded towards the map. ‘You are quite knowledgeable about the geography of the war. Have you been that far south?’
‘Yes. I was there last spring until Missolonghi fell.’ Up until now, he’d not asked about any of her missions particularly and she’d been grateful for that. It meant she hadn’t had to outright lie to him.
Luce furrowed his brow. ‘I thought only Falcon went that far south. It’s behind enemy lines and Grandfather isn’t keen to risk too many agents.’
