Sally scurried across the carpet and into Viv’s outstretched palm. Viv tucked the tarantula back into its protective sugar shaker in her reticule, then tied the string closed for safety.Sally’ssafety. Viv would be very upset if any injury were to befall a beloved pet.
“I thought Sally was a rhinoceros,” muttered Jacob. “Or another attack badger.”
Tommy’s eyes widened. “I won’t even ask.”
“She’s a distraction,” Viv said firmly. “And it’s working, at least for now. We should still hurry. The maids might summon a stableboy with an affinity for stomping spiders.”
Jacob took her fingers in his larger hand. “I’m glad you’re all right. When I first saw that tarantula, I feared it would bite you.”
“She has, many times.” Viv couldn’t concentrate on her words, not with her suddenly trembling hand back in the warmth of Jacob’s. “Never hurts more than a bee sting.”
“I wouldn’t want you to suffer even that.” His voice was low as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the sensitive flesh of her hand. “I wish you only pleasure, not pain.”
“I like pleasure,” Viv said inanely. She imagined it would benothing but pleasure if he kissed her. In fact, she often imagined a lot more than that.
“Yes,” said Tommy. “You’re both clearly in a big hurry to solve this robbery and exit the study.”
Viv’s face heated. Jolted out of her trance, she jerked her fingers out of Jacob’s hands and threw herself back into the armchair behind Mr. Olivebury’s desk, refusing to meet either Wynchester sibling’s eyes.
Tommy was right. They might not have much time.
As his sister peeked behind portraits, Jacob whistled for his mice to resume their original missions.
Viv tried all the drawers in the desk, and discovered only one of them was locked. She decided to ignore the rest and start there. Whatever Mr. Olivebury didn’t want the world to see wouldn’t be kept somewhere easily accessible.
It took until the thirteenth key, but Marjorie’s ring of skeleton keys worked as advertised. Viv slid the drawer open all the way, torn between sifting through in a rush before another interruption came, or taking her time so as not to miss something important.
“No opium,” Jacob called out quietly. “Gunpowder residue on the carpet, but nowhere else. Probably tracked in on hunting boots, either Olivebury’s or a visitor’s.”
“What about the other two mice?” asked Tommy.
“Still working.”
“I’ve got something,” said Viv. “I think. Maybe.”
Jacob and Tommy hurried to her side.
“What did you find?” Jacob asked.
“A diary.” Viv opened the journal and pointed at a random page. “It goes back years. Every few lines is a new date, and notes like ‘Meet the lads at the club at seven’ or ‘Don’t forget to accompany Mrs. O to the theater.’”
“That sounds innocuous enough,” said Tommy. “Does it mention insurmountable gambling debts or a secret love child?”
“No,” Viv admitted. “But every Wednesday and Saturday, it says ‘Fs 4 in’ or ‘Jy 4 in’ or ‘Ch 4 in.’ The same three phrases are listed for this week and the next.”
“‘In’?” repeated Tommy. “In what?”
Viv pulled out her writing journal and started scribbling notes. “I don’t know yet.”
“It’s a code,” said Jacob. “For… something.”
Tommy’s brow creased in thought. “Maybe something legislative? What days does Parliament meet?”
“Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday,” he replied.
“How do you remember that?” she groused.
“Howdon’tyou remember?” He gave a dramatic shudder. “If I’m not safe in the barn on those days, Chloe ropes me into attending the sessions.”
