Page 47 of The Wallflower Ruse

“Restive’s not usually so irritable,” Dorothea said after he left. “He knows you’ll be here with us, perfectly safe. I wonder if perhaps playing the rake has become too much for him. Upset him, for some reason.”

Cecil snorted.

“Playing the rake?” Lucinda demanded.

“Well, yes. He’s had his share of mistresses, but since Wellough—” She glanced at Cecil. “I’m probably being indiscreet.”

“She’ll find out sooner or later,” he said. “Lord Wellough was Restive’s cousin.”

“An elderly one, who dropped out of society and died a few years ago.” Lucinda looked from one to the other. “He was a horrid, ah, unpleasant old man.”

“A lecher,” Dorothea agreed, putting into words what Lucinda didn’t feel comfortable saying aloud with Cecil there. Strange how the company in which one found oneself made all the difference to one’s notions of propriety.

“And a traitor as well, unfortunately,” Cecil said. “Restive prides himself on his ability to read people, and was chagrined that he’d never even suspected Wellough of dealing with the French.”

“Why would he? One doesn’t usually suspect one’s family members of treason. How ghastly for Restive.” And how far the truth differed from her original suspicion—that Restive had perhaps turned traitor to pay Wellough’s debts.

“That’s when he volunteered to work with Cecil,” Dorothea said, “as a way to make up for what he saw as his failing. After that unfortunate incident with Miss Bury—which was quite dreadful for the poor girl, but really, she and her mother should have known better. Anyway, after that, he adopted a persona of wicked lechery. It makes the matchmaking mamas think twice—but not their foolish daughters, alas.”

Lucinda cast her eyes heavenward. “You should have seen them at Mrs. Haraldson’s.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing. Naturally, she wasn’t about to mention that she’d had to resist thinking about him in bed the previous night—thanks, she was sure, to Alfreda’s absurd comments about foot-kissing. Lucinda had never pondered such an activity before, but it seemed one could be irritated by a man and still find him physically attractive.

And if he’s not really a heartless rake... She cut off that train of thought immediately.

“His reputation makes it easier for him to frequent the sort of place that Cecil wishes him to.” Dorothea wrinkled her nose. “Like Lady Tollister’s.”

“Maybe he just wants good company,” Cecil said. “Ask him to dine with us.”

That evening, Restive proved to be in a much better mood—or at least, a politer one. He actually bowed to Lucinda in greeting, unlike his usual brief nod, if that.

“How’s the encoding going?” he asked, as they congregated in the drawing room.

“Well enough, apart from being boring,” Lucinda said. “It’s a simple substitution cipher, although the actual messages are probably in code.”

“Probably?” Dorothea said. “I thought you were putting the messages in code. What is the cipher, then?”

“In this case, it’s just a substitution of one letter for another. Very easy to decipher, but the resulting message is quite different from what the sender actually intends.”

Restive grinned. “Such as, Meet me at the treehouse at dawn, meaning, There’s a cockfight at the Red Oak at dusk. Or... never mind.”

“Never mind what?”

“My next example. I was trying to be gentlemanly—too late, as usual.”

More likely, he was once again hoping to make her blush. Rake or not, he was an accomplished tease. “I suppose it was to do with the lightskirt at the Dragon Inn—quite a pleasant girl, as I recall. I hope Matthew compensated her well for her services.”

“As well as he could afford,” Restive said mildly. “She married a farmer and now has several children.”

“Good for her,” Lucinda said, meaning it, wishing it were as easy for gentlewomen to amuse themselves and still remain marriageable. Pointedly, she turned to Dorothea. “Your father’s codes are a little more complicated than those my brother and Restive devised as lads, but the recipient has to know the actual meaning, or be able to easily work it out.”

“Unlike the ones Davis receives from his contact in France,” Cecil said.

“But surely Sir Frederick’s messages are just as important,” Lucinda said, “if not more so.”

“Perhaps, but I think it’s the contact’s fear of being caught that makes him so careful,” Cecil said. “Or his mixed allegiance.”

“Or his lamentable sense of humor,” added Restive.

“Who is he?” Lucinda asked.