Page 55 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

“Pardon me, sir.” This was Rafe’s butler at the door, looking rather harried. “A caller?”

“Who is it, Simpson?”

“Mr. O’Neill, sir. Urgent, it is, he says.”

“Show him up.” Rafe waited until his man was gone before he stared at Kane. “What do you suppose O’Neill wants? I’ve had his man Duggan tracking Zeph for months.”

O’Neill appeared, his bronze complexion aglow with anxiety. “Sir, my lord. Duggan called one of my runners to rush to me with news. Miss Butler appeared about an hour or more ago to call upon Monsieur Lenoir and his daughter Cosette.”

Rafe stared at the young Irishman. “And?”

O’Neill, usually composed and unperturbed, narrowed his eyes in anguish. “Minutes after Miss Butler arrived, the man who lives next door to the Lenoirs called upon them.”

Kane turned to Rafe. “We’ve been investigating the man next door.”

Rafe chilled with fear for Zeph. “Who lives next door?”

The name had Rafe’s mind whirling.

Only as the three men rushed down the stairs could he organize his thoughts. “Viv and Giselle need to tell Zeph about their experiences with the man. I’ll send a footman with a note to Scarlett.”

“She can gather everyone,” Kane agreed.

“Come with us,” Rafe said to O’Neill.

“I’m behind you with my carriage.”

*

The minutes until Zeph strode through the front door of Ashley House in Grosvenor Square were too long.

“Your coat, Miss Butler?” Friendly asked as she swept past him.

“No, thank you. I am still cold. I will wear it up to my room.”

No sooner had she turned than the front door knocker banged three times—and she heard Friendly opening the door once more.

“Mr. O’Neill? Sir, it is good to see you.”

Zeph recognized the Irishman who was a friend of Rafe. She had met him when he called upon Rafe in Brighton. She smiled, greeted him, excused herself, and proceeded toward the stairs.

“We did not expect you, sir.” The butler was polite but firm.

“I know. My apologies, Friendly. I must see Lady Ashley at once.”

“This is not a good time to—”

“I know, Friendly. I know. But it is urgent. Very urgent.”

Zeph heard it all as she took the stairs. But she thought little of it, until minutes later as she sat in her chair by the fire, her prized little book open before her—and her first good look at the first set of numbers on the first page thrilling her. At last, she had Vaillancourt’s little book.

The fiend. And his secrets.

She remembered the first line and the second. These first two lines she had pondered for months. Now to gaze at them again, she was filled with triumph and a satisfaction that she knew would be surmounted only by her decoding of all the numbered lines in this tidy little book.

With the rules of Vaillancourt’s code that she had experimented with for more than a year, she took up a pencil and applied a few of the rules she hoped would give her Vaillancourt’s secrets, but also his ruin and her revenge.

She laughed.