* * *
Driscoll threw down the pencil, removed his spectacles and rubbed his very tired eyes. The decoding was not going well. He and the other two men who had been brought in to work on it were as baffled as they had been at the beginning.
Mr. Michael Taylor and Sir Stuart Wilson had been as enthusiastic about delving into the project as he when they’d begun. It was always enjoyable to use one’s brain to thwart another man’s idea of coding.
A full week and a half later they were still stymied. As bad as that frustration was to abide, the endless notes from Sir Phillip inquiring as to their progress only added to the tension in the room.
The most successful part of the project was acknowledging to himself that not only did he miss Amelia as much as he thought he would, but he was more determined than ever to have a serious conversation with her about their future. And yes. He’d decided they had a future. Together. Soon.
But presently there seemed a good possibility that the future he intended would happen when they were too old to stand before the vicar. Or climb into bed.
“I think I have something,” Sir Stuart almost shouted.
Driscoll and Michael jumped up and leaned over Sir Stuart’s shoulder. “What have you found?” Driscoll asked.
“This.” Sir Stuart pointed to a paper with numbers he’d arranged, that while not making sense, were at least readable.
Driscoll picked up the paper and studied it. “This isn’t it. But we’re close.” He walked back to his chair and pulled out a fresh piece of paper. With determination to get the assignment finished, he wrote and arranged and re-arranged for about an hour.
Finally. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back and looked over at his co-workers. “It’s done.”
They scrambled over in his direction and stared at the sheet. After a few minutes Michael slapped him on his back. “Well done, old boy. I believe you have done it. Now all we have to do is decode that stack of papers and we’re finished.”
Because of the sensitivity of the project, once they cracked the code, they were to interpret the messages contained in the papers that had been confiscated from revolutionaries.
Driscoll looked over at the stack and groaned. Even with three of them working, it would most likely take at least four days to decode it all. He shook his head. “Let’s get started, then.”
* * *
Amelia kicked, scratched and bit her way out of the carriage. Screaming meant nothing since they took her to a small cottage deep in the woods somewhere outside of London.
At least they hadn’t tied her up and blindfolded her. They also hadn’t responded to her struggling by harming her. But then, she was sure Lyons didn’t want a mistress suffering from bruises.
“Settle down, girl,” Randolph said.
She lowered her head, attempting to bite his hand. He tightened his hold around her middle that almost took her breath away.
Lyons opened the door to the cottage and Randolph carried her in. He released her and she ran across the room, leaning against the wall. “Don’t either of you come near me.”
“I’m going to have quite a bit of fun taming your sister, Newton.” Lyons grinned at Randolph.
“If you come near me, I will cut off your bollocks.” She had no idea where her knowledge of that word came from, or what she would use to accomplish the deed, but was satisfied to see Lyons pale at her remark.
He rubbed his hands together. “We will see about that. All in due time, my dear.” Lyons slapped Randolph on the back. “You may leave now. I have this all in hand.”
Amelia raced across the room and jumped on Lyons back, pounding him with her fists. She attempted to bite his ear, but he grabbed her wrist and swung her around as if she weighed no more than a child’s rag doll.
“You will behave yourself or regret it.” He shoved her away and she landed on her hands and knees again. He raised his fist. “Keep that in mind.”
Randolph cleared his throat. “Lyons, I would have a word with you outside.” He gestured with his head toward the door.
Lyons turned to Amelia. “Don’t try anything stupid.”
The two men left the cottage and Amelia dropped into a soft comfortable chair. Her thoughts raced through her mind, mostly focused on how she would get away from Lyons.
She looked around the large room which appeared to be a combination sitting room and dining room. There were a few windows, but even if she were able to climb out of one of them without getting caught, she had no idea where she was or how to get help.
Her head whipped around at the sound of shouting coming from outside the cottage. She stood and walked quickly to the door, leaning her ear against the worn wood.
“A deal is a deal, Newton. If you renege your reputation will be ruined. I will make certain of that.” Lyons voice came through quite clearly.
Was Randolph finally admitting his mistake in offering her as a wager and trying to talk Lyons out of taking her as his mistress? For a moment she smiled, thinking perhaps he was not such a bad sort after all. His next words quickly dispelled any respectable qualities she had begun to bestow upon her wretched stepbrother.
“All right. If you agree to release me from the debt so I can hold an auction, I will pay you your wager plus ten percent.”
“No. I want half your profits.”
Amelia’s jaw dropped. Auction! Randolph was going to auction her off like a prize bull, or a thoroughbred at Tattersalls?
“Half?” Randolph sounded outraged.
“Half.”
“It will take more time to set it up, then. We will need at least fifty or more men.” Randolph’s voice took on a whiny pitch.
“Don’t panic, Newton. We don’t need anywhere near that
