I had to eat some of it since she made it especially for me,’ she said, feeling miffed. ‘Besides, I never get fat. I take after Papa in that and he was always thin.’
Richard nodded, his expression thoughtful as he looked at her. ‘I fear I must leave you to amuse yourself this evening, Georgie. I need to rest if we are to continue our journey first thing in the morning.’
‘I’ll take a look at your wound before you retire,’ Henderson said. ‘It may have opened again.’
‘I do not think so,’ Richard replied. ‘But take a look by all means.’
‘You do not need to worry about me,’ Georgie said. ‘I shall go to my room. I would be happier with a book to read, but I dare say I shall fall asleep soon enough.’
‘Poor Georgie,’ Richard murmured. ‘I am sorry I have nothing to offer you—unless you would care for the book of poetry you discovered at my London house?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you. I should enjoy reading that—I had hoped to subscribe to it myself.’
‘Wait here and Henderson will bring it to you,’ Richard told her. ‘Had we stopped at the inn I intended to use, you would not have been safe, but this place is much quieter and I think you may stay here by the fire for a while should you wish.’
Georgie watched as he walked from the parlour, limping on his injured leg though obviously trying not to. Henderson gave her a nod and she settled down by the fire to wait for his return. They had not been gone more than a few minutes when Georgie heard the wheels of a carriage outside the inn. Something made her get up and go to the window. She glanced out at the curricle that had just arrived, giving a squeak of fear as she saw the gentleman throw his reins to a groom. She knew his face at once, for he was Monsieur Thierry—the man she had run away from her home to escape!
What was he doing here? It was a terrible mischance that he should come to this place! Georgie drew back hastily as he glanced towards the lighted window. Her mind worked feverishly. Would the host give him a room for the night? He would probably want supper, and, knowing that Captain Hernshaw had retired for the night, the host would think it acceptable if he allowed the newcomer to have the parlour.
She had to escape before he saw her! Georgie was not at all sure that her disguise was sufficient to fool a man she had met on several occasions at her uncle’s home. He must not be given the chance to recognise her!
She left the parlour and hurried up the stairs, reaching the top seconds before she heard voices below in the hall. Thierry was asking for a room for the night, but the host was telling him that his rooms were full.
‘You will at least allow me to take supper here?’ The voice of the man she disliked followed Georgie as she fled up the stairs and along the landing to her own room. Once inside, she locked the door and leaned against it, her breast heaving in a sigh of relief. Had she not glanced out of the window, he might have walked into the parlour and found her there alone.
Trembling, Georgie sat down on the edge of the bed. She would certainly not be venturing downstairs to the parlour again that night, and she would be careful in the morning. Henderson would go to look for her in the parlour, but when he saw there was a new occupant he was sure to come here to bring her the book. Georgie decided that she would tell him Monsieur Thierry was here, because it might not be coincidence. It was just possible that he had followed them here for some reason.
She guiltily remembered the calling card she had discovered at Captain Hernshaw’s house and not given him. In the morning she would have to tell him if he should mention the Frenchman by name.
Georgie spent a couple of hours reading the book Henderson brought her, but once again she found herself decoding the messages she found scribbled into the margins. She soon discovered that there was a fresh notation in one of the margins, but when she used the code to unravel it she was left with a riddle.
Where the stars and sword unite, the plotters lie in wait and plan their deadly deeds. The fox is in the hole and will not come unless you knock thrice and thrice again.
Now what on earth did that mean? Georgie stared at it for ages before closing the book. Perhaps she had made a mistake with the code? The first message had been simple to understand, for it said that there was a plot afoot to murder some important members of the government and hinted at the Head of State, who could only be the Regent. But this riddle did not make sense.
Her work had made her tired and she fell asleep with the book in her hand.
Henderson had told her that he would warn her if the Frenchman was still around in the morning, but as he did not do so she washed, dressed and went downstairs to the parlour. Both Captain Hernshaw and Henderson were there and she noted that the captain looked a little easier.
‘Did you sleep well, sir?’ she asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ he replied. ‘I hope you were not too bored, Georgie?’
She caught something in his tone and realised he was looking at her with interest, and then she knew that he had intended her to find the code and the riddle. ‘Yes, I slept well enough, after I had finished puzzling over the book you sent me.’
Henderson stood up, saying that he would make sure the horses were ready for them in twenty minutes.
Richard’s brows lifted as his man left the parlour. ‘You found something to interest you?’
‘A riddle I could not solve,’ she said. ‘Have you changed the code or did you discover a riddle too?’
He nodded, a smile on his mouth. ‘Irritating isn’t it? As if the code were not enough, there is yet a further puzzle.’
‘You wanted to see if I got the same result as you?’ Georgie said, because she understood why he had given her the book. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’
‘Because I thought you would be curious enough to discover it for yourself.’
‘I was,’ she admitted and laughed. ‘One of these days I shall read the poetry instead of working on your wretched messages.’
Richard’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. He had set her a little test and was satisfied with the result. ‘You told Henderson that Thierry was here last night. It frightened you. Did you think he had discovered you were here?’
‘I was afraid of it at first,’ Georgie confessed. ‘It seemed strange that he should come to the same inn—especially as it is not one of those most frequented by travelling gentlemen. We should not have stayed here had you not needed to rest.’
‘That is true,’ Richard agreed. ‘He may have followed us, though I do not know why—do you?’
Georgie reached into her coat pocket and brought out the calling card. ‘This was left for you in London. I saw him come to the house when I looked out of the landing window, and I hid it because I did not wish you to meet with him.’
Richard gave her a stern look. ‘Jensen told me he thought a card had gone missing. It crossed my mind that you might have taken it, but I could not think why. When did you intend giving it to me?’
‘When we reached my great-aunt’s house,’ Georgie said, feeling awkward under his
