Page 45 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
She wasn’t beautiful or talented, but by God, she was smart. Sheknewshe could work through this puzzle…eventually. But time was running out. Therehadto be a way to trap her uncle using this code.
Think.
Turning from the window, Ellie began to pace. Twelve sedate paces in front of the cheery fire in the hearth, turn, twelve back toward the window. She thought about her conversation with Merida and how the girl had opened her eyes.
“That’s silly. His brother won’t be able to decode it.”
So, assuming Father and Blackrose used a substitution cipher, and assuming it used only letters—both of which were big assumptions—what did sheknow? Did she know anything?
Well, the cipher was different each time. Ithadto be, or she would’ve seen more patterns in the messages.
But a cipher that changed required akeythat changed. And a changing key was silly, unless both parties knew exactly what to use.
“For instance…” Ellie tapped the pencil against her thigh as she took a deep breath and began to reason aloud, knowing no one would hear her. “The simplest substitution cipher uses a word at the beginning of the key, and then the other unused letters of the alphabet strung out after it.”
So far, so good. At least she wasn’t getting any arguments.
That is because you are alone in the room.
Yes, well, it was still important that no one had objected to her reasoning. Including herself.
As she paced, she began to gesture with her hands, using the pencil as emphasis. “That word—the word at the beginning of the key—can be anything, correct? Correct.” She frowned. “Oh, good. I am agreeing with myself. So, any word. Like…Pickle. Or Penis.” Her voice lowered. “Orcock.” She shook herself. “No,cockwould not work, because the letter C is repeated.Dickcould work, I suppose.”
Guiltily, she halted, the pencil tapping now against the chin. “That rule might be silly if the keyword is changing. And Iknowthe keyword is changing, because the rest of the alphabet, strung out behind it, is changing. So if the keyword changes, there must be some mechanism or rule in place to deal with repeated letters. A rule agreed ahead of time, that they both knew. A rule…”
The fire popped merrily as she stared at it. “Perhaps it is as simple as ignoring or skipping the second instance of the letter. So ifcockis the keyword, then the key would be written C-O-K-A-B-D-E-F-G-H-I-J-L-M-N-P-Q-et cetera.” Then, feeling silly because she’d gone more than halfway through the alphabet beforeet-ceteraing, finished in a rush. “R-S-T-U-V-W-X-Y-Z.”
But…she frowned again, tapping the pencil harder. “That is clearly not the keyword, and itcannotbe a word that short, because the entire back half of the alphabet is the same, in that case. In fact, unless the keyword contains the letters X, Y or Z—and let us be honest, those letters are rarer in the English language—then those last three letters are always going to be the same. Unless they flip the alphabet before writing out the key. Or”—her eyes widened. “Unless this cipher is not in English at all.”
What was that word Fawkes used?
“Oh,fook.”
Groaning, Ellie absentmindedly shoved the pencil in her coiffure. If the coded messages were in a different language, she couldn’t be much help; it was hard enough finding patterns in the language one spoke regularly! But she also couldn’t recall her father speaking or reading any other language. In fact, she often remembered his rants aboutforeignersin London and how it ought to be required that everyone learn to speak the Queen’s English.
“And no matter the language, I am still stuck with the problem of the changing key,” she muttered, glaring at the fire. “A word that changes with each message,butis easy enough to determine that both Father and Blackrose could know which word to use each time. Something from the Bible, perhaps? A poem?”
A soft knock on the door startled her and she whirled around to find the imperious butler standing in the doorway. Cursing herself silently, Ellie shoved the pencil behind her back and tried to pretend she hadn’t been startled.
“Yes?”
“My lady, the Earl of Bonkinbone.”
For one impossible moment, her heart stutteredF-Father? But no, Father was dead and buried in the family crypt; she’d arranged the small ceremony herself, since Georgia’s disinheritance meant she wouldn’t have been welcome by Society, even if shehadbeen able to travel.
So then who…?
When Uncle William pushed his way past the butler, Ellie slowly exhaled, willing her heart to start beating again.
Yes. You expected this, remember? This was the plan. Father’s death—or illness—was supposed to lure Blackrose back home. You expected him months ago.
But seeing him in person, knowing what he was responsible for…that was another thing entirely.
“Danielle,” he breathed, stepping toward her with his arms out. “My sweet girl, look how much you’ve grown.”
Numbly, Ellie dropped the pencil from her hand, hoping her black skirts would hide the evidence of her less than ladylike occupation, and stared at him.
The years had been kind to William Stoughton—or Blackrose, as his agents had known him. He had none of Father’s unhealthy pallor or weight, with only a flicker of gray at the temples and a thick mustache he clearly took great pride in. He was dressed in a black suit of fine quality, a mourner’s band around his upper arm, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see her.
