Ryder, aware that his son was hovering, handled the book very gently. "It indeed appears to be very old. You found this in a bookstall at the artists' fair yesterday?"
Grayson said, "Yes, sir."
The three of them watched Ryder open the book at random, watched his forehead furrow as he studied the page, watched him frown. Finally, he raised his head. They held their collective breath. "It is a code I have never seen before. Douglas is very good at this sort of thing. We can show it to him." Grayson took the book from his father without a word.
"Douglas and Alexandra will be arriving on the morrow," Sophie said to Nicholas. "He is the Earl of Northcliffe, but you know that, don't you?"
"Someone mentioned it to me at the ball the other night. I look forward to making his lordship's acquaintance."
Sophie held out her hand to her son. "My turn."
To her disappointment, she couldn't make out the code either. "How very lowering. I thought my dear husband and I knew everything of importance. This depresses my spirits. As for Douglas, he is coming to lend more weight to Rosalind's coming out. There will be a bail hare for her next Friday," Sophie said, her eyes never leaving Nicholas Vail's dark face.
Guileless as a nun, Rosalind said, "Lord Mountjoy came back with Grayson because I agreed to go riding in the park with him; he is going to tell me all about Macau. I have a fascination for Portuguese colonies, you know."
Both Ryder and Sophie strongly doubted Rosalind had even heard of Macau before this. Still, Sophie found herself nodding. "I suppose that will be all right. But don't forget, dearest, you have a final fitting at Madame Fouquet's this afternoon."
"Macau can wait," Grayson said. "The book, Rosalind, we must work together on the book. Nicholas as well."
It was odd, but Rosalind no longer felt any urgency about the book. She felt urgency about Nicholas. She said, "I will get more information from Nicholas about it, Grayson. It will assist us. When we return, we will all work on it together."
"But why—"
"I have a headache. I need fresh air."
"That was very well done," Nicholas said as he sat opposite Rosalind in his carriage. "Your Uncle Ryder is wrong. You lie quite fluently." He thudded his cane against the roof. "Tell Grace and Leopold to go leisurely to the park, Lee."
"Yes, my lord." The carriage rolled forward.
"Grace and Leopold?"
"My grays. They're proud and know their own worth. If they feel someone has slighted them, they bite. Now, can you really read the Rules of the Pale?"
"You needn't play more games, my lord. You know I can read that wretched book. You knew all along. Or at least you very much hoped I could. My question to you is, why?"
There was a pause before he said, "Of course I am surprised. How could I possibly know? As for a plan, why, I have none except to provide whatever assistance I am able to you and Grayson when I return you home from the park. This ride I invited you for this morning, did I indicate any specific time?"
"A medium sort of time, if I remember aright. Don't change the subject. And you think I lie fluently. I am not near to your equal, my lord. I know you will hang over my shoulder to hear each word from the Rules of the Pale. I wish you would tell both Grayson and me what you know about it, Nicholas."
He gave her a lovely shrug with his powerful shoulders, but she had no intention of admiring him. "Certainly the book is of some interest to me, since even as a young boy, I knew it was a passion with my grandfather. Perhaps I'll learn why it was his passion from the text itself."
Her gloved fingers drummed on her reticule. "You are quite adroit, aren't you, my lord?"
"My name is Nicholas. Adroit? I surely hope so or I doubt I would have survived to adult years."
When she looked at his mouth again, she forgot about his secrets, forgot about the Rules of the Pale, forgot that she didn't want to admire his shoulders. She didn't understand any of this, only knew she wanted him to touch her again, to feel him kiss her hand again, perhaps kiss the inside of her elbow, even her ear. She shuddered when she thought of his kissing her on the mouth, kissing her until she was stupid with it. That would be wicked, surely, but she imagined that a life without wickedness couldn't be much fun, could it?
She looked out the carriage window to see that they were passing by the entrance to the park. She didn't care a whit. It was overcast today, cooler, but she felt comfortably warm. There weren't that many people wandering about, not at this unfashionable hour, only a few children with their hoops, yelling to each other in sight of nannies and tutors. A flower girl and a pie vendor were walking about to find buyers. She said on a sigh, "So that I am not a complete liar, tell me about Macau."
"The air smells different there."
"Well, yes, of course it does. It is a foreign clime."
He laughed, shook his head. "And just what do you know of foreign climes?"
"Actually, London was a foreign clime to me until two weeks ago. I'll admit it, I'm a provincial. Do you despise me for it?"
"I don't think so. Should I?"