Daniel nodded. “Would you ask Lady Grantham to join us?”
“Aye. Of course.” Colin crossed the room and opened the door that connected the library to the study. “Gilly? His Grace would like to speak to you if you don’t mind.” He stepped back to allow his wife to enter the room, and Gillian walked in.
Colin’s wife possessed a quiet beauty, and quick intelligence radiated from her like rays of sunshine. She adored her husband and it showed.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she greeted Daniel. “How can I be of service?”
“Good morning, Lady Grantham.” Daniel left the window and walked over to take her hand and raise her from her curtsey. He smiled at her. “I’ve a question or two about the work you’ve been doing.”
Gillian nodded.
“Have you noticed any gaps in the missives you’ve deciphered? Any letters or messages out of sequence? Any parts that haven’t made sense?” Daniel asked.
“No,” Gillian answered. “Every letter I’ve deciphered has made perfect sense in relation to the other letters I’ve deciphered. As far as I can tell, nothing has been missing.”
“And I’m correct in assuming that you provided the men in Abchurch Lane with the latest corrected cipher tables?” Daniel inquired.
“Yes. Why?”
“It occurred to me that Abchurch Lane has missed vital bits of information they shouldn’t have missed.”
“I’ve thought that, too,” Gillian told him.
Colin nodded in agreement.
“Some of the work I’ve done seemed far too easy,” she continued, “and yet the other ciphers missed it. I know I’ve a talent for this, but I’ve wondered how I could be so accurate and they could make such big mistakes.”
“What if the men in Abchurch Lane only received the complete information when we supplied it?” Daniel posed the question that had been troubling him.
“I don’t understand,” Colin admitted.
“What if the information you and Gillian decipher and give to Shepherdston are the only complete ciphers they receive?” Daniel repeated his theory.
“That’s highly unlikely,” Colin replied, “since the men in Abchurch Lane receive information from the front lines and from couriers in the field.”
“Do they?” Daniel asked. “What if they only get bits and pieces of seemingly unrelated information?”
“How?” Colin demanded.
“Couriers. At least one, perhaps more, who withhold information.”
“For what purpose?” Gillian asked.
“I’m not sure,” Daniel told them. “It could be for personal gain or monetary reasons, but I suspect it may be political.” He walked back over to the window and looked out. The coach was still there, parked where he knew it would be until he left for his next destination. He motioned for Colin and Gillian to come to the window. “Recognize that coach?”
Colin shook his head. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he answered. “It appears to be following me.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’ve only been a few places since I returned, and I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that I’ve seen this coach everywhere I’ve been.” Daniel took a breath. “I saw this coach parked outside Albany yesterday afternoon, Curzon Street yesterday morning, Park Lane the night of my mother’s party.”
And it was parked on Park Lane once again. Colin thought Daniel was right but felt compelled to point out, “The night of your mother’s party, you could have seen every coach in town.”
Daniel looked him in the eye. “Except yours.”
Colin shrugged his shoulders.