Page 15 of The Viscount's Code
“Thought you read those scandalous books,” he commented dryly.
Hope opened her eyes as wide as she could, but his smirk told her that he wasn’t buying her shocked innocence.
“How do you know about those?” she asked in a hushed voice instead.
“I have eyes. And with five copies of the book floating about Castleton while we were visiting, I was bound to see one. Didn’t take a codebreaker to figure out who was reading them.”
Hope’s cheeks warmed, but at least she wasn’t alone in her embarrassment. Her friends were equally culpable.
“How is the code breaking coming?” she asked, desperately attempting to change the subject, and fortunately, he allowed her to do so.
“Fine. I’ve not gotten far but have found something of interest.”
Hope waited, noticing the viscount glance toward the doorway, likely determining whether her father was about. Little did he know that Faith was the one he should be most worried about.
She stepped closer to him, leaning over his shoulder for a better view of his work, but instead noted how silky his dark hair looked, and she had to stem a strange, irresistible urge to run her fingers through it. He cleared his throat as though he was the one affected, before he pointed to the books in front of her. They appeared to be open to different pages, each containing both text and images. He ran white-gloved fingers gently over each book.
“Be sure not to touch the pages, as they are rather fine and delicate,” he said. “Oils from your hands could mar them.”
“Very well,” she said. “What have you found?”
“The books have the same title, and were obviously created by the same printer, though a rudimentary one, of course, given their age,” he said. It appeared he could speak in longer sentences as long as it pertained to a subject of interest to him. “However, they are not the same book, despite their similar appearance.”
“What do you mean?” Hope asked, leaning down closer so that she could better see the pages.
“Look,” he said. “I have them both open to page 35; however, they contain different text and images. It is that way throughout the books.”
“This is to be fiction, is it not?” she asked.
“It is,” he said. “As I said, I am just beginning, but from what I can tell, it appears that they are two volumes, comprising one story.”
“I see,” she breathed. “So my father’s copy, which volume was that?”
“The second.”
“Have you determined how they might pertain to the code?”
“Not yet. It has something to do with the message included in the first book. Two of the words are underlined, and I have been looking through the book to try to determine what they could mean.”
“Can I see?” Hope asked, intrigued now. She pulled up one of the hardbacked chairs next to where he sat behind the writing desk in the corner of the library, beside a window overlooking the green beyond. Fortunately, they were hidden from the door behind a bookshelf, so they would only be seen if someone happened to actually enter the library – which was entirely possible, but she had no interest in leaving now.
He said nothing but pulled out the note and put it on the table in front of her.
She had read it before, but reviewed it again, noting thatsummerandcordiallywere underlined.
She tapped a finger against her lips. “The book is in English, but tells a Spanish story, does it not?”
“Correct.”
“And you believe if you find the words within the book, it might help you determine how to decipher the code?”
“That is my hope,” he said, and she heard worry in his voice – the first time she had ever seen a vulnerable crack in the armor he wore.
“Why do I not help you? Then it would go faster.”
“I believe you were warned not to spend time with me.”
“I was.”
