Page 64

Daisy jumped up, ran to the library door, and locked it. “Someone in this house decoded those messages,” she hissed, when she got back to the table. “Some treacherous double-crosser infiltrated our household!”

“Actually, I think I know who it was,” Livie said. “Remember our French chambermaid, Bernadette?”

Daisy nodded, eyes huge. “She was a spy? Impossible! My mother prized her expertise with curling tongs! I thought she might weep when Bernadette left our employ.”

“Bernadette cleaned my bedchamber every day,” Livie said hollowly. “She had all the time in the world to find the newest letter in the trunk and decipher it. When letters arrived in a bundle, she could have taken it up to the attic and read them at her leisure without my noticing.”

“Crucial question,” Frederick put in. “When did she leave your aunt’s employment?”

“She left without a word of warning the day after my uncle was arrested,” Daisy replied. “Mother was furious, thinking that Bernadette had decided she was too good to work for us. My goodness, I’ve had my hair curled by an enemy agent!”

Livie bent down until her forehead rested on the library table. “Oh, Daisy, what am I going to do? My father’s private letters spell out the traitors’ plot to the last detail. If anything, all we’ve uncovered is evidence against him!” The aching words sank into the empty room. A sob broke free in her chest.

Frederick pushed back his chair, strode around the table, scooped up Livie and sat back down, awkwardly patting her back.

“Don’t misinterpret my gesture,” he warned. “Think of me as your future brother-in-law.”

“You’re not,” Daisy said, pushing a handkerchief into Livie’s hand. “I’m so sorry, dear.”

“It’s not just me,” Livie sobbed. “It’s you, too, Daisy. It’s all of us. Lady Wharton, too. And my … my mother! It will likely kill her.”

There was silence in the room.

“Perhaps we could move to France,” Daisy offered. “I, for one, could not bear to see Lady Regina’s triumphant face next Season.”

“You won’t see her, because we’ll be pariahs, more than we already are.” Livie sat up straight. “They’ll execute my father, won’t they? They kill traitors.”

Frederick shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think we should jump to conclusions.”

Livie slumped back against his shoulder.

“These are his personal letters,” she said drearily. “Who could possibly have access to them besides the author?”

“His first mate?” Daisy asked. “The revered Cassio?”

“The captain dictates formal letters, but he wouldn’t … They are private …”

Her voice trailed off.

“But he would, wouldn’t he?” Frederick put in. “Because these letters are not very intimate. They resemble communal sermons more than private missives.”

“He does dictate his letters to Cassio,” Daisy said. “I saw him do that last summer.”

“Cassio might have added the dots,” Livie agreed, with a flash of hope.

“It didn’t have to be Cassio,” Frederick pointed out. “The quartermaster was likely in charge of posting the captain’s mail. Or there might have been a cabin boy with access. Presumably, if the captain was writing to you every day, some letters sat on his desk for weeks.”

“They often arrive in bundles,” Daisy said, nodding.

“Were these seven a bundle?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know.”

Daisy picked the seven letters up and began folding them again, trying to see whether they shared dents from being tied together with string.

“The simplest solution is often correct,” Frederick said.

“The simplest solution is that my father is a traitor,” Livie stated. Her mouth was sour with fear.