Dangerous Liaison (Lords of Whitehall Book 2)

desk and the mantel.
“No, I’m thought to be rather retiring most of the time. Take a seat and search the desk drawers for false bottoms or some such. Isn’t that what spies do?”
Gillian almost laughed when Moreham growled. He made his way across the room to her uncle’s desk with the grace of a young miss making her bow to the Queen and sat as she’d directed.
He leaned over and pulled on the topmost drawer. “Look behind the books for a wall safe.”
Gillian fought the urge to stick her tongue out at the man. She wasn’t the only one prone to bossiness. “Uncle’s safe is in the library on the first floor.”
“Humor me. There’s no prohibition on having more than one safe, is there?” Moreham asked.
“Your lack of interest in the library safe tells me your man has already breached that lock.”
Moreham ignored her assertion, but she relished the notion she’d called him on the more dastardly aspect of his work. Breaking into a duke’s safe was an affront to every Englishman. She’d enjoy his comeuppance even more when he found nothing to implicate Uncle Whitney.
“You said there was a lockbox?”
How did he do that? Catch her woolgathering. Gillian joined him and opened the bottom drawer. She lifted the lockbox onto the desk before removing the small key from her pocket. She handed him the key.
Moreham inserted the key and turned. The lock sprang open. Gillian remained at his side as he lifted each bit of foolscap out of the box and read the papers. He threw the papers aside. Pages of numbers regarding the previous summer’s crops.
“See, I told you there would be no incriminating papers, because my uncle is innocent,” Gillian crowed.
Moreham wanted to stop searching, but he knew that wasn’t an option. The naïve girl had never considered there could be other hiding places. He was about to educate her on the idiosyncrasies of the gentlemen who engaged in secrets.
He returned all the documents in the exact order he’d found them and relocked the box before returning it to its hiding place. He continued on to the next drawer where he removed everything then felt the back of the drawer for a false wall.
Gillian’s only reaction to his continued search was a heavy sigh. Shoulders slumped, she returned to her search of the bookshelves.
He couldn’t stand her silence any longer. “There could be cubbyholes or secret compartments. I am searching for such hiding places. You said yourself, false-walled drawers are part and parcel part of my vocation.”
Gillian re-shelved the books she’d removed before turning toward him. “Your life must be very lonely. Being so distrustful of your acquaintances. Uncle would have no notion how to even ask for such an accommodation.” she declared, her voice laced with derision.
He ran his hand along the wall of the drawer and pushed against the wood. His heart stuttered when the piece moved. At that moment, he wished he could send Gillian to her room and spare her the next few minutes. Moreham knew whatever he found behind that false wall could change her life forever.
He pulled the drawer out and sat it on the desk. Gillian’s gasp of surprise tore at his heart. At that moment, he hated the world he lived in. Behind the panel lay a small portfolio.
Gillian dropped the book in her hands and rushed to his side. He didn’t have to look up to know she was crying.
Her voice shaking with emotion, she snapped, “Go ahead. This is what you came for. Examine it. You will feel horrid when you realize it is Uncle’s journal and you were wrong.”
Moreham heard the doubt in her voice. He opened the small leather folder and found a folded piece of paper.
“Well, what is it?” Gillian demanded.
“A letter,” he replied. “Gillian, a letter a much younger you wrote to your uncle.”
“See I told you so…hand it over. I want to read it.” Gillian snatched the foolscap from his hand.
She moved closer to the candlelight. “I remember this letter. I wrote this the summer I turned three and ten years old. We were at Whitings after the season ended. Uncle Whitney traveled back to Town to attend a school friend’s funeral. I wrote the letter and hid it in his valise for him to find. I thought my letter would ease his homesickness. He’s kept my childish scribbling all these years.” Gillian’s voice softened in wonder. “What a dear sweet man.”
Her voice soft with awe tugged at his heartstrings. She reached over for the little folder and sat on the far side of the desk. The only sounds in the room were her sniffling and sighs as she ran her fingertips over the ducal seal embossed on the portfolio. Whitney’s seal.
A child’s letter. All he had to show for his efforts was a young girl’s note from years ago. Moreham wanted to tear the room apart. His gut told him there was something hidden within these walls. He knew Gillian would never consent to such a search.
“Moreham, I’ve found something else. Tucked under the back cover. Another bit of foolscap.” Gillian’s voice so low he had to lean closer to hear. “I can’t read it.” She looked up at him. Her hands trembled as she placed the small slip of foolscap in his hand. “It’s a series of letters, but those letters do not form words. Moreham, I can’t do this. You must help me. You started this. You must finish it.”
“Give it to me,” he demanded, more harshly than he’d intended. “My apologies, Gillian. I didn’t mean to bark at you. This could be important.”
He took the paper. The sight of the jumbled letters confirmed he had discovered a coded message. He knew without a doubt, he’d found his evidence of Whitney’s collusion with the French sympathizers. The sooner he had his man, Fitzroy, decrypt the note, the sooner he could put this business behind him. As for Gillian, He’d find a way to ease her pain.
Now was