Page 10 of The Viscount's Code
“I did.”
“And?” Did the maneverelaborate when asked a question?
“And he told me that I must have been mistaken, that he had never heard of such a book.”
Hope frowned, biting her lip. “Why would he lie?”
“Could be that he actually doesn’t have the book. Which I doubt. Could be that he doesn’twantto admit he has it, because it is stolen. Or it could be that he doesn’t trust me.”
Ire simmered in Hope’s belly at his words. “Why would you think the book is stolen?”
“Because of what was in the riddle – the books should have been found together. But instead, one was missing. I’m sure it wasn’t given to your family.”
“So instead, you assume my father stole it?”
“Not necessarily your father. Could have been his father.”
“We have no idea what the circumstances were that led to the book being in his possession. I hardly think labelling either my father or one of my ancestors a thief is fair.”
Hope clenched her hands into fists, the unfamiliar anger growing within her. The nerve of the man. She wished she had never noticed his handsomeness, for he didn’t deserve any attention, as far as she was concerned.
He eyed her as though she was a naïve idiot, which she didn’t appreciate. People had underestimated her all her life. She didn’t need to add Lord Whitehall to that list.
“So why are you looking for the book, then, so late at night once everyone is abed?” he asked, lifting a brow as well as his lantern in front of the book shelf, peering at the titles with her.
Hope bristled. She hadn’t prepared a response, for she wouldn’t have guessed that she would have need to answer him tonight.
“I thought it would be easiest to look myself first,” she said primly. “If I do not find it tonight, then I will ask my father tomorrow.”
“If you ask him, you will have to explain all of it,” he said. “He would be suspect if we both asked for the same book within a day of one another.”
“That is true,” she acknowledged. “Why do we not decide on the best course of action if it should prove necessary?”
He nodded. “Very well.”
She turned from him, and they worked in silence for a time, perusing the book shelf, looking for both the title and the correct size and shape of the book, in case it was hidden. When they finished without their search having come to fruition, the viscount stepped away and over to the desk.
“Could it be in here?”
Hope had thought of that, but she didn’t like the idea of a practical stranger searching within the desk.
“It could but I do not feel right about looking within. My father wouldn’t like it.”
“Then he should have given me the book,” Lord Whitehall said, leaning over and running his hands along the desk. Instead of going around to the drawers, however, he was studying the back of the desk.
“What are you doing?” she asked, crouching beside him.
“I am trying to determine if there are any secret drawers or compartments back here,” he said, before peering closer at it. “Wait a minute,” he murmured, and Hope frowned and followed the path of his fingers.
“What is it?”
“Beneath the desk,” he said, so focused on his task that it seemed as though he was nearly talking to himself instead of to her. “There are small panels that I can pull out.”
He caught a piece beneath the lip of the desk, pulling it out in front of him. It had small notches on it that looked to be numbers. “There are four of them,” he said, his eyes wide. “I wonder…”
“You wonder what?” Hope said, wanting to shake him, wishing he would just talk plainly to her.
“I wonder if it is some kind of code, if the right combination of numbers would open a secret part of the desk.”
