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“Not gibberish. It’s coded. In order to decipher it, we’ll need to find the key. Are you familiar with the work of General Sir George Scovell?”
“Not specifically.”
“General Scovell was a linguist who cracked theGrande ChiffreFrench code in just under two days.”
“Sounds like a hero of yours.”
“I’ve read everything by him and about him. When the Great Paris Code was sent to French army officers in eighteen eleven he had a much more difficult task. But eventually he understood enough of it to decipher critical French dispatches and aid Wellington’s victory at Vitoria.”
“Are you saying that my brother writes his diary in French military code? How are we going to crack that?”
“We. You said we.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
She was becoming addicted to that sly smile of his, the one that lifted a corner of his mouth and left the other one stern.
“I suppose we’re in this together now, like you said. We’ve formed a temporary alliance.” His breathing returned to normal. Whatever had happened in his mind, whatever dark, fearful place he’d gone to, he was back now.
And they would solve this mystery together.
“This is written in your brother’s own cipher,” said Mina. “My guess would be that he used a book from your library as the key. If we can find the book, we can crack the code by determining the pattern of pages, columns and words. For example, Scovell developed a common cipher for our forces to use by sending the same dictionary to each headquarters.”
“You certainly know a lot about ciphers.”
“It’s a hobby of mine. I like puzzles, codes, and anagrams. Anything I can take apart and put back together. Words, timepieces, weaponry. It’s interesting to find the hidden meanings, or to find new uses for ordinary items.”
“Weaponry?”
“For example, the pistol you saw in the garden shed: I modified its mechanism to fit my small hands perfectly.”
“Not a very normal occupation for a debutante.”
She gave him a quelling look. “Do I appear to be an ordinary debutante?”
“Not in the least.”
“I like anagrams in particular. As a girl I was always dissecting words and putting them back together in different ways. I’ve already anagrammed your Christian name, Your Grace.” She’d found an iteration that fit him perfectly. “Andrew becomesWarden.”
He frowned. “I don’t like that one. Andrew could be...warned.” His eyes glinted. “Orwander.”
“Warden,” she said, though he did make her think of wandering down forbidden paths.
“And Wilhelmina?” he asked. “With so many letters you must have some interesting results. Let’s see...” he said, staring out the window.
“That’s easy. My favorite one is:Ahem, I’ll win.”
He smiled. “Very appropriate.”
“I anagrammed Lord Rafe’s full name.”
“Raphael. And what hidden meaning did you uncover?”
“Ale harp,” she pronounced.
The duke laughed.Finally. She wanted to help chase the darkness away.
“It fits him,” Thorndon said. “I believe it was Dryden who said that anagrams are the ‘torturing of one poor word ten thousand ways.’ ”
