Page 66 of Dukes Do It Better
Mal started. “Two.”
“And their names?”
“George, my older brother. And myself, Malachi.”
“Did your father ever refer to you by nicknames?” Still not looking at him, she was studying the pages intently as if they were bound to spill their secrets any moment.
“Georgie and Mal,” he answered.
“Good, good,” she murmured and offered no further explanation.
After a moment, Mr. Smith said, “If you both had three-letter nicknames it might be harder to distinguish between them. Sometimes,” he elaborated, “breaking a code is as much about differences as it is commonalities. One symbol or letter that appears frequently could either be a stand-in for someone’s entire name or a vowel. Right now, she’s looking for characters matching possible common usage words and patterns.”
“It looked like gibberish to me,” Malachi said.
Mr. Smith nodded. “Jane sees things where others don’t. She’s probably the smartest person you’ll ever meet.”
“I’m right here,” Jane singsonged again under her breath, and her husband grinned at her.
“And apparently she doesn’t like being discussed as if she is not in the room,” Malachi commented blandly. “Apologies, Mrs. Smith.”
She glanced up. “I’m working, so it’s just Smith, or Jane.” Closing the bank book, she continued. “Since we don’t know what kind of things we will uncover in this book, I have to ask: Are you comfortable with my being privy to family secrets and personal information once I determine your father’s method?”
Malachi swallowed a spike of unease and shifted in his chair. “I’m here because Simon says you’re trustworthy. Honestly, I doubt there’s anything personal in there pertaining to myself or my brother. Well, possibly George. But George wasn’t the type to have damning secrets.” Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. “We have reason to believe the book contains sensitive information our government would prefer to be kept quiet.”
Smith raised a brow. “How delicious. You’re correct in that I’m trustworthy and have the crown’s endorsement. May I keep this book for a few days?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” she said, then focused her attention back on the pages in her hand.
A maid arrived with tea and Edward went about pouring for everyone, since the lady of the house was occupied doing her work. He set a lemon iced cake on a plate by her elbow along with a cup of tea.
As Smith sat immersed in her world of codes and character sequences, Mr. Smith made comfortable conversation with Malachi and Simon about the growing concern over the situation in Greece’s war for independence and Russia’s move to step in and take over more territory.
Malachi contributed opinions every now and then, as he pondered the possibility of being sent south to the Mediterranean. With his father gone, would the Athena see more action? Malachi might finally have a naval career to tell stories about when he was old and retired. The idea didn’t send a thrill through him like it once would have.
He fiddled with the cup of tea in his hands, spinning the round ceramic bowl in his fingers while the heat seeped through and warmed his skin. All he’d wanted for years was the Athena and the life of a sailor. Now everything was back in reach, with the added allure of a possible maritime conflict looming on the horizon. One would expect he would be eager at the prospect.
Instead, his mind repeated the awkward smile Emma had given him when she left his house. The breezy way she’d said she had fun in his bed, and they should do it again soon. She’d been lying. At the time he’d felt something was off about the interaction, but he hadn’t been able to put a finger on it. Hell, he hadn’t been able to put a finger on her. As she scurried away from his bed with a casual peck on the cheek, Emma hadn’t let him kiss her goodbye properly. It had already been the end and he hadn’t known. What the devil had he done?
A clock on the mantel struck the hour, pulling him from the depressive ponderings. “Goodness, is that the time? I apologize, everyone, but I must go.”
“The Admiralty?” Simon asked.
Malachi stood and set his cup on the tea cart. “Yes, wish me luck. I expect they’ll finally have a date for my return to command. Smith, Mr. Smith, it’s been a pleasure. Simon or I will be in touch regarding your progress with the book. I must take my leave now.”
Simon rose. “Want me to go with you?”
“No, enjoy your visit. I’m sure the meeting will just be new orders and tedious paperwork. Farewell, everyone.” Giving the room at large a bow, Malachi returned to the hall, retrieved his hat from the butler, then stepped out into the sunshine.
Surely this day could be salvaged. Woman troubles weren’t the end of the world. He had Simon in his corner, he’d recovered Father’s bank book and would discover its secrets shortly. On top of that, Malachi would have a command again. Hopefully the Athena, but ultimately his billet was the Admiralty’s decision.
A hack stopped when he flagged it down, and soon he was surrounded by the oddly comforting normalcy of rattling wheels, torn upholstery, and the questionable odors of hired transport. The fact any of it was comforting at all made it clear that Malachi had been in London too long. Much longer and he’d lose his edge at sea.
It was not his destiny to be here or to be Emma’s lover. He was a naval officer. And he never should have been anything else. Being Trenton was supposed to be George’s job. His father’s job. Soon, the day-to-day running of the ducal interests would be the duty of estate managers.
By the time the hack rolled to a stop in front of the government offices, it was Captain Harlow who stepped out of the carriage and rolled his shoulders. The persona of the duke would stay in London, and Malachi could hardly wait to be plain Captain Harlow once more.
