Hardly a Husband (Free Fellows League 3)

Colin grinned. Because he was the leader of the League, Jarrod liked to think that he was better at deciphering French code than the other Free Fellows, but the truth was that although Jarrod was good, Colin had a more complete grasp of the French language and Sussex was better at deciphering, and Gillian was faster and more accurate than any of them and much better at discerning changes in numerical code. "The changes are subtle, but there are definite changes since we deciphered the last batch of dispatches." Colin reached for a leather pouch on the seat of the chair beside him, pulled out several sheets of paper, and handed them across the table to Jarrod. "See for yourself. Gilly made a list of the changes and copied new cipher tables for the men who will need them."

"It looks as if it's a code within a code," Gillian pointed out. "A complicated numerical code hidden within a simpler one."

Jarrod frowned. "From Joseph to one of his subordinates? Were you able to break it?"

She shook her head. "I've deciphered some of the words, but not enough to understand the content."

Jarrod studied Gillian's corrected cipher sheet. "The complex code must mean something. But what?"

"The code is more complicated. There are strange gaps in it of varying lengths with numerals inserted in a seemingly random manner. But there's nothing random about them. Look." Gillian pointed to a numeral in one section of code, then a second numeral in another section. "When we combine the numerals in the different sections, we get a very large number." She jotted down the numbers. "But that's only part of the pattern. All of the different elements mean something. Otherwise, why change the code? There's a pattern, but I haven't learned what it is yet."

Jarrod took another bite of his breakfast, then pushed his plate aside and spread the deciphered messages out in front of him. "Five thousand here." He pointed to one notation. "Eleven thousand here." He looked at Colin. "Have we intercepted treasury information? Are we looking at francs or pounds? There are no references to any military commanders or military encampments." Jarrod slapped the sheet of paper with his hand. "For all we know, King Joseph" — he sneered at the title Bonaparte had bestowed upon Joseph when he'd overthrown the rightful king of Spain and installed his older brother as His Catholic Majesty — "could be ordering supplies for a dinner party. Five thousand casks of wine. Eleven thousand pearl buttons. Fifteen hundred crystal goblets."

Colin nodded. "I agree. So far, the only thing I know for sure is that we aren't talking about ships or cargo." He winked at Gillian. "I've learned quite a bit about the shipping business in the past year, and there are no references to any seaports currently held by the French or their allies or any references to any of the trade routes we know the French use."

"Or to any known port of call," Gillian added, "French or otherwise."

Jarrod pointed to the cipher chart. "What are these?"

Gillian grimaced. "Abbreviations."

"Yours or theirs?" Jarrod asked.

"Theirs," she replied, taking a sip of her tea.

"Any idea what they represent?"

"I think the abbreviations are parts of words inserted at random intervals to confuse would-be interceptors." Gillian wrinkled her brow as she looked at the messages once again. "I'll figure it out." She looked at her husband and then at Jarrod. "All I need is a bit more time."

Jarrod smiled at Gillian. "Don't frown so, Lady Grantham, you've done the job of half a dozen men in less than four hours."

"I despise not knowing the answers," she admitted. "The puzzles nag at me until I can't think of anything except solving them."

"You mustn't let that happen," Jarrod teased. "You must think of yourself and of your husband, else he'll force me to seek help in other quarters."

"He wouldn't dream of being so selfish," Colin contradicted his friend. "Her talent is much too valuable to our cause."

"Indeed." Glancing at the clock on the mantel, Jarrod drained his cup, removed his napkin from his lap, and placed it beside his plate. He pushed his chair back from the table, then gathered the deciphered letters and the new ciphering charts, folded them in half, and tucked them inside a secret pocket sewn into his jacket. He looked at Colin. "Will you see that the leather pouch and the dummy letters are returned to Lord Weymouth?"

Uniformed couriers carried military dispatches from London to the front, but spies secreted messages written on scraps of paper everywhere. At home in London, Jarrod settled for secret pockets sewn into his clothing. Leaning forward, he brushed Gillian's cheek with his. "Thank you once again, Lady Grantham, for breakfast and for sharing your extraordinary talent. The gentlemen in the War Of

fice will be pleased."

"I'll see you to the door," Colin told him.

Gillian understood. There were secrets Colin could and did share with her, such as the deciphering, but there were secrets he couldn't share with anyone except his colleagues. She looked up at Jarrod. "We serve breakfast at the same time every day. You are welcome to join us anytime, my lord."

Jarrod straightened to his full height and gave Gillian a crooked smile. "You and Colin are newlyweds," he reminded her. "And I don't want to wear out my welcome."

"You needn't worry about that possibility." Gillian returned his smile. "For it will never happen."

Jarrod frowned.

"I'll always make time for my husband." Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink. "And I shall always welcome his friends into our home whatever the hour or circumstance." She looked Jarrod in the eye. "Especially you, Lord Shepherdston, for you and His Grace, the Duke of Avon, are my husband's dearest friends. You sheltered Colin and provided him with a means of providing for his family when his father would not. You have been the most loyal of friends and are as beloved to me and to Colin as any brother…"

Jarrod stared down at the floor as the color rose in his face.

He was blushing. Jarrod, who never reacted with anything except wit, cynicism, or anger, was blushing. Realizing that he'd just witnessed a unique occurrence, Colin moved to assist his wife as Gillian pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. "And now that I have unwittingly embarrassed you with my gratitude and my profession of affection, I shall leave you and Colin to speak in private." She turned her face up to receive Colin's brief kiss, then patted Jarrod's sleeve as she walked by.