Page 40 of The Viscount's Code
The large sitting room made up the majority of the cottage, with the small cookstove and table to the side. It was not as sparsely decorated as one might think upon meeting Reeves. Instead, it was covered with quilted prints and paintings that Anthony knew had been created by Reeves’ mother years ago.
Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with a mixture of fiction, history, and books about riddles and codes that had fascinated Reeves all his life. The crackling fire in the stone hearth cast its warm light on the dark wood panelling of the walls.
“I was surprised to hear from you, Anthony,” Reeves said, taking a well-worn upholstered chair and gesturing toward a sun-faded sofa, its once vibrant colors muted by time, for Anthony and Hope to sit upon. “I would never have guessed that you would be interested in continuing on in the profession after all that happened to your father.”
He was right. Anthony had never expected to do this again.
“This is a favor for a friend,” he explained. “An item of intrigue, of no particular importance.”
He felt Hope’s stare upon him, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He needed Reeves to be willing to help him, and for no reason other than his own curiosity.
“Very well,” Reeves said. “Tell me, how have you been?”
His blue stare pierced Anthony’s face, and he felt like he was seven years old again. Part of him nearly told Reeves all that he was feeling – how much he longed to restore his family’s name, how he didn’t feel worthy enough to offer it to anyone else – but not only did he refuse to allow himself to revisit that line of thought, but he didn’t want Hope to hear any of it.
It was the first time he had seen Reeves since the death of his father, and he was rather chilled at how all of the memories came flooding back.
“I have been well,” he said slowly. “Mother is returning to herself again. She is actually visiting with Hope’s mother at the moment. They’re friends from childhood. It has been good to see.”
“Glad to hear it,” Reeves said, glancing over at Hope, and he knew what Reeves wanted to discuss.
“You can say what you would like to in front of Hope. I trust her.”
Her head turned to him so swiftly that he wondered if she hurt herself, but it was true. He did trust her – with anything besides his own emotions – and was fine with hearing what Reeves had to say.
“I’m assuming you would like to speak about my father.”
“I have to admit that I was becoming quite curious when I hadn’t heard from you as of late,” Reeves said, fixing him with that pointed look that always had Anthony slightly worried.
“I have not been home as much as I would like recently, but, of course, I have not forgotten what we are searching for.”
“Have you come any closer to the truth?” Reeves asked.
“I have not made much progress recently,” Anthony admitted. “I have been preoccupied.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Reeves said in his low, rumbling voice, leaning forward to place his elbows upon his thighs. “But I have taken a closer look at the code that he was given to break.”
“And?”
“I believe that he was entrapped. When the letters ended up in your father’s hands, he solved an unbreakable code. The only way it could have been deduced was if he had been in possession of a cipher – one that had to have come from the French themselves.”
“Right, that is what condemned him. It’s also what I could never understand – how he had been in possession of it to start. He always said he received it anonymously.”
“I believe he was given it in order to place blame upon him,” Reeves said. “Whoever did so must have been the one working with the French, and when the investigation came too close, he decided to make it seem that it was your father instead.”
Anthony scooted forward. “So why didn’t Father try harder to prove himself?”
“Because he didn’t want to cause any issues for you and your mother. He thought it best to simply live with it and hoped that it would all be forgotten.”
“He thought better of them than they deserved, for no one has ever forgotten,” Anthony said bitterly. “How are we ever to prove them wrong?”
“You have to find the true traitor,” Hope said suddenly, surprising them both. “And prove it.”
“If it was that simple,” Anthony began with some frustration, “then—”
“She’s right,” Reeves interjected, holding up a hand to stop Anthony. “We have always considered it, but we never took any steps forward. Your father didn’t want us to. He said he had no wish to ruin another family’s name.”
“But it would have been the truth,” Anthony said, annoyed.
