The Debutante's Code, page 1
“From its delicious title to an intriguing plot involving spies and secret codes in 19th-century England, The Debutante’s Code kicks off Erica Vetsch’s new Thorndike & Swann Regency Mysteries with action, humor, and the promise of romance.”
—Julie Klassen, author of Shadows of Swanford Abbey
“Intrigue abounds in this thrilling tale of a debutante turned spy. Amidst the whirl of stolen art pieces and murder, heroine Juliette Thorndike takes on a dangerous role to break a code before the villains discover it … and before the swoon-worthy Officer Daniel Swann figures out she’s involved. Author Erica Vetsch once again pens a winner in The Debutante’s Code … a must-read for Regency and mystery lovers!”
—Michelle Griep, Christy Award–winning author of Once Upon a Dickens Christmas
“Erica Vetsch has done it again, bringing the reader an exciting Regency historical romance, but this time with the twist of a delicious mystery. The Debutante’s Code is completely entertaining, with the promise of more delights to come in the rest of the Thorndike & Swann series.”
—Jan Drexler, award-winning author of Softly Blows the Bugle
“A mystery within a mystery within a mystery. Inventive!”
—Regina Scott, award-winning author
“A compelling, enchanting work of art filled with wit, danger, and clever plot twists, The Debutante’s Code kept me turning pages well into the night. A cast of richly sculpted characters, an expertly woven tapestry of mystery and intrigue, and beautifully drawn spiritual truths set against the glittering backdrop of Regency England combine to make Erica Vetsch’s latest creation a true masterpiece.”
—Amanda Wen, author of Roots of Wood and Stone
“I am a big Regency romance fan, and I love what Erica Vetsch brings to this genre. The suspense on top of the lords and ladies is just excellent fun. And this one, The Debutante’s Code, is the best so far. Absolutely impossible to put down once I started.”
—Mary Connealy, best-selling author of The Accidental Guardian and the High Sierra Sweethearts series
“Erica Vetsch delivers a fast-paced and utterly riveting read set against the elegance and intrigue of Regency high society, destined to captivate longtime fans and capture the hearts of new readers. I’m eagerly anticipating Lady Juliette Thorndike and Daniel Swann’s next adventure.”
—Amanda Barratt, author of My Dearest Dietrich and The White Rose Resists
“The Debutante’s Code is a delightful and fast-paced visit to the undercover world of espionage in Regency England. Vetsch offers all that we love about her writing in this twisting story: historical details, compelling characters, and an intriguing plot. This is the first in a fascinating new series, and I did not want it to end! I’m thrilled to know we will continue this journey with Lady Juliette Thorndike and Detective Daniel Swann in the next installment.”
—Gabrielle Meyer, author of When the Day Comes
“The Sanditon and Bridgerton–loving crowd will fall hard for this delightful heroine and dashing hero and the ease with which they appropriate the London ton on their pursuit of growing attraction and twisting and turning adventure. I look forward to many more installments in this exciting new series. Erica Vetsch is at the top of her game!”
—Rachel McMillan, author of The London Restoration and The Mozart Code
THORNDIKE & SWANN REGENCY MYSTERIES
The Debutante’s Code
Millstone of Doubt
Children of the Shadows
SERENDIPITY AND SECRETS
The Lost Lieutenant
The Gentleman Spy
The Indebted Earl
The Debutante’s Code
© 2021 by Erica Vetsch
Published by Kregel Publications, a division of Kregel Inc., 2450 Oak Industrial Dr. NE, Grand Rapids, MI 49505.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations in reviews.
Distribution of digital editions of this book in any format via the internet or any other means without the publisher’s written permission or by license agreement is a violation of copyright law and is subject to substantial fines and penalties. Thank you for supporting the author’s rights by purchasing only authorized editions.
The persons and events portrayed in this work are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.com.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Vetsch, Erica, author.
Title: The debutante’s code / Erica Vetsch.
Description: Grand Rapids, MI : Kregel Publications, [2021] | Series: Thorndike & Swann regency mysteries ; vol 1
Identifiers: LCCN 2021005530 (print) | LCCN 2021005531 (ebook) | ISBN 9780825447136 (paperback) | ISBN 9780825477607 (epub) | ISBN 9780825469138 (kindle edition)
Subjects: GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3622.E886 D43 2021 (print) | LCC PS3622.E886 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021005530
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021005531
ISBN 978-0-8254-4713-6, print
ISBN 978-0-8254-7760-7, epub
Printed in the United States of America
21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 / 5 4 3 2 1
For my friend Mary Connealy.
Even though we’re both in the word business, I find words inadequate to express what our friendship means to me. Thank you for everything.
And to Peter, as always, with much love.
Chapter 1
London Docks
January 31, 1816
“IF YOU LEAN OUT ANY farther, you’ll wind up in the drink. Which, I suppose, would be a fitting end to this disaster of a trip.” Lady Juliette Thorndike ducked her chin and turned away from the fresh breeze, the deck rocking gently under her feet. Her heart pounded beneath her woolen cloak as she reached the end of one journey and anticipated embarking on a wholly new one.
“I just want to be there. The last twenty yards is taking longer than the entire voyage.” As always when in high emotion, Agatha Montgomery, Juliette’s best friend, used her adept skills in hyperbole. She leaned over the taffrail of the Adventuress as the ship eased into its berth, and her wide green eyes bounced from the wharf to the cranes to the warehouses. “I cannot believe we made it. I never want to endure a journey like this again.”
Nor did Juliette. Their trip from Switzerland to London had been fraught with delays and discomforts, putting them a fortnight behind their expected arrival date.
But now they were moments from stepping on their native heath. Her beloved England. She was finally home. Searching the quayside, she hoped to see a familiar face, but though people thronged the wharf, all were strangers. Not that she was completely au fait with the family she hoped would meet her, having been away from home for so long. She had completed her schooling and would within the hour be back in the embrace of her parents, ready to begin her new life.
Men shouted, flinging ropes across the narrowing expanse of water, and with a jolting bump, the Adventuress docked. Juliette inhaled the scents of tar, hemp, wet wood, and smoke. The rigging creaked, and waves lapped against the pilings. Cold mist hung in the air, remnants of last night’s fog, no doubt. But the sun, weak as it was on this last day of January, hovered overhead as if determined to burn off the dampness.
“Ladies, the gangway will be fixed soon, and your belongings will be the first off, as I promised.” The captain, a desiccated stick of a man with so many creases on his sea-weathered face it was difficult to make out his features, paused on his way forward. “If you’ll remain here out of the way, we’ll see you off right smart.” He touched his hat brim and sketched a small bow.
The Adventuress was a cargo ship, ill equipped for passengers, but the captain had made an exception for them in Genoa when they’d discovered their original vessel had sailed without them. The first mate had vacated his tiny cabin—albeit with poor grace—to accommodate the girls. Juliette had joked that the berth was so small, they had to go out into the corridor to change their minds.
“You do think someone will be here to greet us, don’t you? Even though we’re late and on the wrong ship?” Agatha’s brow puckered. She’d voiced the same concern throughout the journey.
“If no one is there to meet us, we’ll get ourselves home. We’re grown women now and certainly capable of getting from one side of London to the other.” Juliette raised her chin. “If we can live in a foreign country for years and travel alone from Switzerland to England, we can navigate the last short stretch.” Weariness dragged at her heart. It seemed she had been on her own for such a long time. She longed to be in the care of someone else for a while, to have her parents there to look after her, to help guide her in decision-making, to give her the feeling of home and comfort she had missed since the moment she’d left Heild House, their country estate in Worcestershire, for school seven long years ago.
“But we’re not supposed to be traveling on our own. That’s the problem. Our chaperone abandoning us partway to the port was a near disaster. What my father will say, I’m sure I don’t know. He paid good money for an escort, and look what happened.” Agatha’s mouth tightened, as it often did when speaking of her father. From her description he was a man of moods and given to expressing them boldly. His rare letters to his daughter over the years had been terse and more often than not dictated to his secretary at one of the mills he owned.
“He cannot blame either of us, and if he’s thinking at all, he should applaud our independence and bravery. Frau Hecht was not a good choice of chaperone, and I’m sure our parents will communicate their displeasure to the academy.” Frau Hecht and the three men hired to take the girls to the port city of Genoa and aboard the correct ship had been in league with one another. They had taken their fees and money for traveling expenses and then abandoned their charges in the city of Turin, forcing the girls to find their own way from there.
“Ladies.” The first mate, who always spoke as if clenching a mouthful of nails in his teeth, stuck out his arm, stiff as a spar, pointing to the gangway. There had been quite a set-to when the captain had agreed to take them on as passengers, led by the first mate. Something about women on a ship being bad luck? Tosh and twaddle. Juliette would be glad to see the back of him.
Holding her skirt with one hand and anchoring her hat with the other, Juliette made her way down the wooden slope that had no rails, her mouth in her throat until her feet touched the rimed cobbles of the wharf.
The sense of peace she had anticipated didn’t come. Instead, the anxiety that had dogged her every mile of the journey remained. There were still so many questions, so much to do until she could feel settled at home. Her parents had expected her to arrive a fortnight ago. They couldn’t know of all the troubles that had waylaid the girls. Had her parents come to the dock day after day hoping for her arrival, or had they dispatched someone to look for her?
Agatha bumped into Juliette’s back. “Your pardon. The stones are slippery.” She righted her bonnet. Lean and coltish, Agatha stood six inches taller than Juliette, and she constantly hunched her shoulders, keeping her head bowed in an effort to disguise her height. “Do you see anyone we know?”
Stevedores, teamsters, and sailors abounded. Bales, barrels, and bundles blocked anyone from walking in a straight path. “No.”
“What should we do?” Agatha clutched Juliette’s arm.
What indeed? Juliette had talked a good yarn about getting themselves across London, but how did one go about it? “We can inquire at the shipping office, I suppose. To see if our families have sent word or instructions.”
Which only left the small issue of finding the headquarters for the ship they had been scheduled to travel upon but which had left them behind when they didn’t arrive on time.
Before she could take a step, a long hand snaked out of the jostling crowd and latched onto her wrist. Startled, she jerked back, bundling into Agatha, who shrieked. Heads swiveled and bodies jostled, and Juliette whacked down on the clutching hand with an instinctive chop.
“Stop it, child.” A man eeled between a pair of brawny stevedores, shaking his limp hand and scowling. “Don’t you know your own uncle?”
She froze. “Uncle Bertie?” A flash of recognition from somewhere in her memory gave her pause. Of him laughing with her father, their profiles so similar.
“None other. How fortuitous to find you in this crush. I had business at the docks today.” He smoothed the many capes on his cloak. Stepping back, he assessed the growing pile of baggage being offloaded from the Adventuress. “I assume these are your belongings? I’ll have to see about hiring a luggage wagon. This will never fit in my coach.”
“Of course.” He had been at the docks for some other purpose? “Did Mother and Father come?”
“No, not today. Come along. I’ve wrung every bit of charm out of the dockyards over the past few days. I’m bored with the place.” He flipped his hand and shrugged. “So much work going on all the time. I find it tedious. No, I must tell you about your parents, but …” His gaze flicked to Agatha, who hovered behind Juliette, and he raised his brows. “A friend?”
He spoke like the dilettante Juliette had suspected he’d become, from reading her parents’ letters.
“Perhaps an introduction is in order, Juliette?” Agatha tried to sound polished, but her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry. Agatha, this is my uncle, Sir Bertrand Thorndike, my father’s younger brother. Uncle Bertie, this is Miss Agatha Montgomery. We can take her to her home, can we not? To Belgravia?”
“Yes, yes, child. But hurry along. It’s infernally cold, and this damp is wilting my cravat.” He touched the brim of his tall hat to Agatha, offered his arm to her, and then the other to Juliette. “The coach is just beyond this warehouse. I couldn’t get any closer, what with so many ships arriving today and all the bustle.”
“Were Mother and Father very worried when we didn’t arrive when expected?” Juliette held tight to his firm upper arm. Had he always been so fit? Her childhood memories of Uncle Bertie were of him coming and going and laughing. He gusted in at the family estate like a nor’easter, plied her with sweets, had once gifted her a puppy that proved to be endless trouble, only to sweep out again on adventures of his own. He never stayed longer than a few days, and no one seemed to know when he’d pop up again.
She knew he’d served in the army and was considered most eligible. He had been knighted by the Prince Regent some years ago, and he had an income from the family estate. His clothes were always fashionable and meticulous, and his manners precise. Beyond that, she didn’t know what he did to fill his time or what interested him. He was a bit of a cipher.
“We’ll get into all that later.” He moved swiftly, and the crowds parted before him. “There’s no time now. Things will be compressed because of the tardiness of your arrival. The house is in a bit of a dither. Your debut at court is tomorrow. If you hadn’t shown up in time, it would have been embarrassing to have to inform the Queen you wouldn’t be attending.” A touch of censure brushed his voice.
A prickle of apprehension flickered across Juliette’s skin. Court tomorrow. Making her curtsy before the Queen. Embarking upon her Season as a debutante. In less than twenty-four hours.
A footman opened the carriage door, and Uncle Bertie handed first Juliette and then Agatha inside. He swung aboard, graceful and lithe, and settled against the squabs opposite the girls. With the head of his cane, he tapped on the ceiling, and the coach lurched into motion.
Juliette grabbed the windowsill to steady herself. “After so many days at sea, it seems strange to be on land. I feel as if I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”
“What did happen to delay you? We were beginning to worry.”
Again she had that sense that she had inconvenienced him. She shook her head and raised her hands, palms up. “If there was a possibility of something going wrong, it seemed to, from the moment we set out from the school. Terrible weather, a flood that took out a bridge, forcing us to add two days to our journey as we went downstream to the next crossing. A lame horse. And then the chaperone the school hired absconded before we arrived in Genoa. By the time we arrived at the port, our ship was gone, and we had to find another transport. Captain Prussel was finally persuaded, with a liberal application of pounds sterling, to accommodate us, though his ship was not equipped for passengers.”
Uncle Bertie stared out the window, extreme ennui smoothing his features. Did he not care about their troubles? Or did he think her story an exaggeration?
“When you didn’t arrive on the correct ship, I had to make enquiries into what vessels were expected from Italy. I watched as ship after ship came in, and I wasn’t alone. There was talk up and down the wharf that the Adventuress was nearly a week overdue. Were you delayed leaving Genoa, or was there trouble once you put to sea?” He flicked a bit of lint off his sleeve and shot his cuffs.
“There was a flap at the port. I thought it was something to do with the loading of cargo, but it was more sinister. The local magistrates, or whatever they call them in Italy, searched the Adventuress, made all of us vouch for our identities—though how they could verify who the crewmembers were, I don’t know—and delayed us further. The captain finally told us someone had been killed in the town, and they thought the culprit could be attempting to flee aboard ship. We never did hear more details, because the moment the authorities allowed us to set sail, Captain Prussel weighed anchor.”
