Текст книги "The Counterfeit Lady"

Автор книги: Kate Parker

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“It had nothing to do with me.”

“You were the one she was seen with. It had something to do with you.”

She shoved aside the blue draperies and looked out on the lawn. “I wish to heavens I’d never gotten involved.”

“Too late. What are you involved in?”

Whirling around, she faced me. “Baron von Steubfeld asked me to inform Clara about a rumor that circled around the peerage a few years ago. I thought it was a wild guess, a slander. He told me it was fact. I wanted nothing to do with his plan. I thought it was cruel. But he insisted. Said it was the price of attending diplomatic balls.” She dropped her gaze. “He said it was the price I must pay for dancing with the devil.”

I wasn’t going to let her off easily now. “What was the price? Come on. You must own up to it.”

She sat down on a sofa in a dim corner of the room, and I walked over to sit next to her.

“He called on me after luncheon that day and said I must go straight over to Gattenger’s house and take Clara to see Lady Peters. I was to force Rosamond to tell Clara about—about Lord Peters.”

“Her husband?” I was completely confused.

Fortunately, Lark Bennett was too immersed in her misery to notice, or she thought me stupid. “No. Her son.”

After hearing about Clara’s distress at miscarrying and Clara and Ken’s on-again, off-again relationship, I had a terrible idea of what Lady Bennett would say next. “Tell me.”

“Ken Gattenger is Lord Peters’s father, from a time when Ken and Clara had called off their engagement.”

“Dear heavens. How did you find out?”

“Von Steubfeld told me. And Rosamond as much as admitted it when she begged Clara and me not to spread the story for the sake of the child.”

“And the fire in the Gattenger study?”

“Clara asked Rosamond for every letter, every keepsake Ken had given her. It was her price for keeping her silence. Rosamond left the room and returned in a few minutes with a small package. Clara returned home with it, vowing to burn the contents without peeking.”

Her story made tragic sense in light of Clara’s desperate desire for a child by Ken. It also made sense if the baron wanted their evening routine disrupted. Unfortunately, instead of driving the Gattengers to another part of the house while the blueprints sat unprotected in the study, the upheaval meant they arrived in the study sooner than usual. The baron had inadvertently made the burglar’s work more difficult.

“And this is why you came in here crying?”

She looked shocked. “No. The baron told me he’d not be coming to my room tonight. He hinted he was going to yours. Isn’t one man enough for you?”

My jaw dropped. I quickly shut my mouth and, before I thought of a suitable reply, opened it again and snapped, “Yes. No. I should hope he doesn’t show up in my room.”

Her smile brightened any hint of tears from her face. I, on the other hand, probably looked ready to do murder.

My expression changed the moment her words reached my brain. What was von Steubfeld going to do if he was too busy to entertain Lady Bennett in the dark hours of the night? This might be the clue we were waiting for; Snelling told the valet he’d meet the head man tonight.

“You know who he’s going to meet. Tell me. Tell me her name.” Lark Bennett looked ready to torture me for the information.

“I don’t know. Why do you think he’s seeing another woman?”

“I’ve seen him with a young blonde who dances in a London theater. And he’s a man, so there may be more. As long as they’re not women he can take to balls and receptions, I don’t care. But someone here could replace me, and that I won’t allow.”

“I’m not that woman.” I rushed out of the room and upstairs as fast as I could limp. I headed straight to Rosamond Peters’s room.

Her maid, Minette, answered my knock and looked at me suspiciously.

“May I speak to your mistress?” I asked.

“Come in, Georgina,” was heard from inside the room. Grudgingly, the maid stepped aside.

Lady Peters wore an elegant ivory dressing gown. “You may go, Minette.”

The maid left, shutting the door behind her.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“A hunt for something of mine that is missing. But I suppose you know about that.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“My maid is called down to the kitchen by your maid for just a moment, and when she returns, you are outside my room. When she checks, this item is missing, and as she peeks out the door, she sees Sir Henry Stanford go into your room.”

“I was looking for my frivolous maid, and I can assure you I didn’t invite Sir Henry to my room.” I hoped Emma never heard I’d called her frivolous.

“What I lost is more valuable to Sir Henry than it is to me.”

“Then perhaps he has it.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps he does. Why have you come?”

“Lady Bennett just told me you saw Clara Gattenger on the day she died and gave her distressing news.”

“It’s distressing to me that Lark Bennett keeps telling people this story.”

“Except it’s not a story, is it?” When she didn’t reply, I said, “Did you know Clara suffered two miscarriages in her year of marriage?”

“No.” She looked at me through widened eyes. “That poor woman. I understand how much producing an heir means to the British aristocracy.”

“Did Lord Peters know he might have an heir before he died?”

She rose, walked to the open window, and looked outside. Perhaps satisfied that no one was below us listening, she said, “Yes, and he was very happy. He wanted the title to continue, and he wanted me to be provided for.”

“So he was content with his fate?”

“Quite content. He felt we’d accomplished all that we needed to do. All that we could do.”

I repeated what Phyllida had learned. “Even though by this time his body had wasted away so badly that he was almost totally paralyzed?”

“Must you bring this up now?” she hissed.

“Unfortunately, yes, since it involves Ken and Clara Gattenger.”

“I realize you miss your cousin, but knowing my secrets won’t bring her back to life.”

“I believe your secret was used to change the routine in the Gattenger household that evening. A change that was supposed to simplify a robbery but instead led to Clara’s death.”

“As if my secret hadn’t led to enough pain already. Most of all to myself.”

“How did your husband feel about your betrayal of him?”

She laughed, the brittle sound giving away her emotions. “Betrayal? Finding a suitable stud was his idea. Gattenger was one of his suggestions. I would never have done it if he hadn’t insisted.”

She walked over to me and held out her hand. “I’m a good Catholic. I loved my husband very much. But to make him happy, I had to defy the church and all that I believed.”

I quickly wiped the shocked expression off my face and touched her hand. “The affair was Lord Peters’s idea?”

“My husband was a traditional aristocrat. He wanted me to have a child, and I did. He was glad.”

“And Gattenger?”

“Doesn’t know. And doesn’t need to know. A secret fails to be a secret if everyone knows.”

I wasn’t sure that was right, but telling even Gattenger wouldn’t be fair to the child. “And the baron?”

“I don’t know how he learned our secret and Gattenger’s identity with such certainty. Bribed a servant, perhaps.” She studied my face for a moment. “I beg you. Please keep silent. After all, it’s a family matter.”

“Of course.” I wondered how Blackford would feel about dishonesty in the bloodlines of old, aristocratic families. I suspected he’d be displeased. I decided he shouldn’t know.

There was one more thing I wanted to know. “Is Lady Bennett blackmailing you with her knowledge?”

“Yes. She wants me to procure something for her. I asked Sir Henry to get it for me. The item that is missing is part of the deal between Sir Henry and myself.”

“I hope you find it.” I left, certain from what Sir Henry had said that the thing Lark Bennett wanted was the warship blueprints. Why would she want them? And if the baron was the one who’d ordered the burglary, why was Lady Bennett trying to get them away from him?

I needed to dress for dinner and the ball while wondering what to do about all this new knowledge. Emma came into my room, Phyllida following her. “How is your ankle holding up?”

“Very well, thank you. I should be able to waltz or give chase, depending on what’s required.”

Emma smiled at my response. “Good, because it was the duke’s acceptance of her invitation that made Lady Harwin decide to host a ball. The servants have been working hard the past few days on short notice to get ready for tonight. We could have cannon fire in the gardens and they’d be too tired to notice.”

“Where will they be?”

“Except for the footmen serving dinner and the tasks surrounding the midnight refreshments, they’ll be downstairs, out of sight and out of mind, and hopefully getting some rest.”

“And the valets and lady’s maids?”

“Wherever their masters and mistresses want them to be.”

I winced. “So the baron’s valet could be—”

“Anywhere the baron needs him,” Emma finished.

But if von Steubfeld planned to meet Snelling, rather than trust the task to his valet, we could end up following the wrong man. I told them what I’d learned from Lady Bennett about the baron’s nocturnal activities for that night.

“How can I help?” Phyllida asked.

“Where would you normally be?” My knowledge of balls was extremely thin. There wasn’t much need for a middle-class bookshop owner to be aware of the protocol for a country house ball, and it was limiting my effectiveness.

“I could watch the dancing. I’m sure there will be a card room set up in a parlor. I could read in the library if there isn’t a young couple using it.”

“We have the ballroom covered. Too well covered. Could you move between the library and the card room? I don’t expect the baron’s valet or the baron to slip out from either of those rooms, but it will give you a clear view of the hallway.”

“With a side door at the end of it,” Emma added.

“And if I see one of them leave? What do you want me to do?” Phyllida sounded half-thrilled and half-terrified.

“Find me or the duke or Sir William immediately. I’ll introduce you to Sir William as soon as he arrives. He’s a handy young man who works for the Foreign Office,” I added at Phyllida’s confused expression when I mentioned Sir William.

“And I’m to wait up here?” Emma asked.

We needed a better use of Emma’s talents. “How would you like to be Cinderella? You can’t come into the house from the garden until after the ball starts, but there will be so many people there, you should be able to blend into the crowd.” I gave her a wide smile.

“Nonsense. Emma could never blend in. Not with her good looks,” Phyllida said.

“But what red-blooded man is going to question Emma’s right to be at the ball? Especially if she’s dressed the part,” I asked.

Phyllida nodded in agreement. “You two are about the same size. Let’s see what you have in your wardrobe that will suit our mystery guest.”

“Do you have your good corset with you?” I asked as I looked at the gowns I’d brought with me. Phyllida had counseled me to pack everything I could because there was no way of knowing what I’d need. In retrospect, she was brilliant.

“Of course. I wear it with the plum-colored day dress that is supposed to be a castoff from you.” Emma studied my gowns and selected the light blue. “You can’t call me Emma, since someone will likely put two and two together.”

“Eugenie,” Phyllida said. “It sounds exotic. And I should be able to remember that, since it’s close.”

Not as close as Georgia and Georgina, and she’d had trouble remembering my false name. Still, if she felt comfortable calling Emma by Eugenie, I wouldn’t complain. “Get anything you might need from your room and come back here. Once you’re dressed for the ball, you’ll have to stay here until dinner is nearly over and then you can slip into the garden undetected.”

Emma nodded. “I’ll float between the gardens and indoors?”

“Yes. There will be guests from other house parties and local gentry. Try to deflect any questions on which group you’re with. Play mysterious.”

“Any man who is spending all his energy trying to find out who you are is not involved in espionage. Ignore him,” Phyllida added.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EMMA left to get what she needed from her room while I went next door with Phyllida to assist her with her corset. When Emma returned, bread and an apple stolen from the kitchen tucked into her bundle, Phyllida was ready to have her hair dressed.

By the time we moved into my room, Phyllida was ready in a matronly wine-colored gown liberally decorated with black lace and ropes of pearls. She helped both of us into our ball gowns, mine dark green and Emma’s the light blue. Both of the dresses were off the shoulder and showing a great deal of cleavage.

“Remember, there’s a man in your life. You couldn’t wear that dress if you were shopping for your first husband,” Phyllida warned Emma.

“Perhaps I’m a merry widow,” Emma said with a smile as she looked at her reflection in the full-length glass.

I thought of Rosamond Peters and Clara Gattenger and their secret. No one was merry in those events. “You’d better make up your mind on your story. You’re going to be drawing men like moths to a flame.”

Looking in the glass, I decided I looked nice. Maybe even pretty. However, Emma was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Maybe I’ll avoid notice,” Emma said as she began to work on my hair.

“I doubt it. Do you know where Sumner is supposed to be?”

Emma yanked on my hair. “He’s gone.”

“But why? He should get to see you in that gown,” Phyllida said.

“Well, he won’t.” She gave a loud sniff.

I knew I’d risk being bald by the time we finished this conversation, but I had to find out. “What has happened? Where did he go?”

“Sumner’s gone back to town. Blackford’s orders. Jacob’s going to approach the clerk he thinks is the leak in the Admiralty records room with new evidence the Archivist Society’s uncovered. Jacob’s going to try to force the clerk to confess. Sumner has been ordered to shadow them while members of the Archivist Society are watching the garden here.”

“Far be it from me to correct a duke, but why didn’t he have Fogarty or one of our other Archivist Society members tail Jacob?”

“He sent Sumner because he doesn’t trust Fogarty to do the job properly.” Emma made a face but didn’t say another word. She finished my hair, did her own in a simple upsweep that Phyllida decorated with a few jewels, and pointedly stared at us, waiting for our departure.

I answered a knock on my door to find the duke, elegantly attired in evening clothes, waiting for me. I made a small gesture with my head and he entered my room, his eyes widening when he saw Emma.

“This is Eugenie, a mysterious guest. She’ll enter the gardens while we’re having dinner,” I told him.

“She won’t be the only one. The higher-ups in government refuse to believe any of this. Scotland Yard is overburdened with the arrival of the Russians and the anarchists. The local police refuse to get involved. So we have Archivist Society members watching the grounds.” He strode over to where Emma stood. “You have your knife? Good. I’ll have Sir William escort you around the gardens. At least we have Sir William and Mr. Nobles assisting us.”

Then the duke turned to me. “Where did you get that bruise?”

Both my shoulder and wrist showed the results of Sir Henry’s persuasion. At least I had covered my wrists with my twenty-button gloves. “Let me get my lacy shawl.”

“Georgia.”

“I think you can guess.”

“When this is over, Sir Henry and I will have words.” His tone made me think more than talking would be involved. I’d suffered worse during investigations before. Never had anyone threatened to avenge my injuries.

I put my hand on his shiny black jacket sleeve and marched out of the room, Phyllida following us.

The fantasy of every young girl is to walk down a grand staircase on the arm of a handsome, virile duke to attend a ball. I was nearly thirty and pretending to be someone I wasn’t to stop an espionage plot, but I was living that fantasy.

The staircase was carpeted in acres of red with a carved banister. The Duke of Blackford was tall, dark, and manly. His formal evening attire was the deepest black with a blazing white bow tie and shirt. My dress, dark green with swirls of silk and satin, made me look like an alluring, elegant woman. I would carry the thrill of sweeping down those stairs like a princess until the day I died.

“You look ravishing, Georgia,” the duke murmured, and I almost missed a step.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I will claim my waltz if I personally have to stop von Steubfeld from interfering. If he tries to grab those plans during the ball, I will shoot him.” Blackford stared at me, his eyes darkening.

His words made my heart hammer against my corset. “I’ll load the gun.”

He grinned as he led me to the parlor where the guests were to meet before going in to dinner. As soon as we entered the room, Lady Harwin stole the duke away to introduce him to some local notable. My fantasy ended too quickly, but his words, I will claim my waltz, rang in my brain.

“The duke appears quite smitten,” Phyllida said.

“He’s playing his role well.”

“No. He wasn’t acting. There was no audience except me. And I do not count.”

I glanced at Phyllida. She smiled serenely.

Time to get my mind back on business. “I’d introduce you to Sir William and Mr. Nobles, but I don’t think they’ll be here until the ball.”

“There will be plenty of time, then, but what do we do if Snelling brings the plans while we’re all eating pigeon or pheasant or some such?”

“We’ll have to trust our friends. Scotland Yard has failed us.” I knew we could handle this. The Archivist Society had to stop the sale of the naval designs and prove Gattenger’s innocence.

“Scotland Yard has failed us?” Lady Rosamond Peters asked. “Whatever are you discussing?”

I jumped. “That young man who tried to steal Lady Phyllida’s hatbox. If anyone is going to stop crimes like that against ladies while they’re shopping, it has to be Scotland Yard. So far they’ve failed us.” I hoped it sounded believable. I didn’t have any better ideas, and I still had no idea what would happen tonight.

“Stealing a hatbox is such a strange crime. I doubt we’ll hear of anyone else threatened in that manner,” Lady Peters said. “I’m glad to see you on your feet again.”

Good. She appeared to buy my excuse for mentioning Scotland Yard. “Either I heal very quickly or the blow was not as bad as first thought. Of course, my recovery could be aided by my desire to waltz with the duke.” I gave Lady Peters a cheery smile and she laughed.

“You can hardly be blamed. I see the way he looks at you.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Not at all. I think he regrets letting you get away in India all those years ago.”

I felt the heat rush up my face. Trying to deflect my wish that it were so, I said, “All those years ago? You make us sound ancient.”

“You ladies look lovely,” Sir Henry said as he came up behind Lady Peters. Thus began a round of mutual congratulations on our outfits that ended with us agreeing Phyllida would be the loveliest lady at the ball.

“Where are Lady Bennett and Baron von Steubfeld?” I asked as soon as I could steer the conversation in another direction.

“They’re in Lord Harwin’s study with him and a guest from Whitehall. Apparently there’s supposed to be a bit of diplomacy carried out this weekend, away from London and all the usual formalities,” Sir Henry said.

“I’ve heard the baron carries a message for Her Majesty,” Lady Peters added.

“Then we’re in exalted company this weekend,” Lady Phyllida said as we all stared at the closed doorway that stood between the parlor and the study.

At that moment, the door opened. Lady Harwin, seeing that as her cue, told us to line up to go into dinner. She was escorted in by the duke, who sat next to her. I found myself near the middle of a very long table between a friend of the Harwins’ son who was visiting from Oxford and an elderly barrister who’d been invited to even the numbers. Both men seemed interested only in eating and looking down my bodice.

In the long pauses between conversations, I was able to look out the windows into the sunset-lit garden. No one wandered into my view. This was fortunate, because I had no idea what the rules of etiquette said about the proper way to leap up from a banquet and dash after a criminal carrying stolen warship designs. Neither, apparently, did the baron, because he stayed seated throughout dinner.

Dinner was tasty, but I ate sparingly, afraid that at any moment I’d be called into action. Later, I couldn’t recall a single dish served.

Somehow we managed to finish dinner without a hue and cry outdoors, and the guests for the ball began to arrive. Two of the first were Sir William Darby and Mr. Frederick Nobles.

With Phyllida trailing behind, I walked up to where they were handing over their top hats and canes. “Lady Phyllida, I’d like to introduce Sir William Darby and Mr. Frederick Nobles. I believe they’re friends of the duke’s,” I added quietly.

“I’m so pleased to meet you. I’ll be in the card room or the library during the ball, but if I have need of you, I’ll be sure to call upon you gentlemen,” Phyllida said quietly.

Merciful heavens. Phyllida was developing a taste for clandestine action. Perhaps she’d prefer a more active role in the Archivist Society.

“I would be honored to assist you,” Sir William said as he bowed over Phyllida’s hand. Then he looked at her and winked. Mr. Nobles bowed in the same manner, the edges of his mouth curling up under his mustache as he rose.

We headed into the ballroom at the back of the house. Blackford escorted Lady Harwin. “He’ll have to have the first waltz with her,” Phyllida whispered.

“I’d suspect there are any number of ladies he’ll need to partner,” I responded with what I hoped sounded like complete indifference.

She raised her eyebrows as she looked at me. I couldn’t fool Phyllida.

The first dance was a country dance I had never seen before and begged off. Phyllida walked off with some older attendees to the card room, and I began to circle the room. Lady Bennett and Baron von Steubfeld took part in the dance, and I saw no activity outside in the terrace, so I felt I could relax my guard.

Lady Peters came up to me. “You’re not dancing?”

“I didn’t think I should risk my ankle on anything but a waltz. And you?”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I find country dances tedious. You can’t carry on a decent conversation with anyone.”

“While you can have discussions on the edge of the room without a soul overhearing.”

“You’re never so alone as you are in a crowded ballroom,” Lady Peters agreed.

I looked at the lines of dancers. “Sir Henry seems to be enjoying himself.”

“Sir Henry enjoys himself everywhere.”

“I never learned the country dances. Did you?”

“Yes. It was always part of the harvest celebration.” Then she turned to look at me. “My parents liked to visit the countryside for the holidays. They found the city too somber.”

“That would be a nice tradition to pass on to your son.” I was waltzing around the topic I wanted to raise with her, not certain how to proceed.

“Did you and Mr. Monthalf have children?”

“No. Not being part of the aristocracy, failing to produce an heir didn’t matter.”

“Sir Henry told me what you admitted about your late husband. And how he made you search my room for the letter. You found it, didn’t you?” Amazingly, Rosamond Peters watched the dancers with a pleasant expression.

I copied her mild behavior so that no one who glanced our way would see anything but two ladies discussing trivial matters. “Neither Sir Henry nor I have possession of the letter. On that, I give you my word.”

“Not quite the same, but I’m content if Sir Henry doesn’t have it. He can be overbearing.”

I stopped myself from bursting out laughing. “Yes,” I managed to say quietly. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why does Lady Bennett want the ship blueprints?”

“I don’t know. I’d give her the crown jewels if it would keep her quiet, for the sake of my child.”

As the dance came to an end, I glanced outside into the thickening darkness.

“Expecting someone?” Rosamond Peters asked.

“Vainly checking my appearance in the reflection.” I gave her a smile and turned my attention to the room, where bowing and curtsying and offers for the first waltz were being exchanged. Across the room I spotted my ersatz Sir Denby, Lord Porthollow. He didn’t seem to have noticed me.

Sir Henry came over, momentarily at a loss as to who to ask first. I excused myself, leaving the field to Lady Peters, and walked away. As I closed the distance to Lord Porthollow, I saw Lady Ormond approach him. She appeared to be lecturing him, and he appeared to be running.

He saw me and beamed. “A waltz, young lady?”

“Please.” We waltzed away from Lady Ormond at top speed. “What is she upset about?”

“She’s trying to force a match between her niece and Tewes’s older son. Quite blatant about it. I told her to leave the poor young people alone. They’d have to spend the rest of their lives suffering from their decision. She didn’t think I should have said that in front of the young people. I said someone should talk sense to them.” He glanced over his shoulder. “She’s been after me ever since. What have you learned?”

“Tonight perhaps we shall discover all.”

“Good luck.”

He left me on the far side of the dance floor and headed for the card room. Blackford waltzed with Lady Harwin. The baron waltzed with Lady Bennett. Sir Henry waltzed with Lady Peters. I circled the room until I bumped into Mr. Nobles. “Everything quiet?” I asked.

“Sir William is taking a turn in the garden. I’m minding the store in here.”

Sweeping the room with my eyes, I said, “With a lot of goods on the shelves.”

“Half a dozen peers, a few baronets, a churchman or two, plus their ladies, younger sons with the courtesy title of ‘lord,’ a few debutantes, and guests at neighboring houses.”

“Quite a lot of goods in this store you’re minding,” I amended.

“Would you care to dance? We can watch them from the dance floor as well as here.”

“Thank you.”

Frederick Nobles escorted me into the center of the room and led me in a sweeping waltz, his hand placed correctly on the small of my back above my waist. He was light on his feet, and I was hard-pressed to keep up. I struggled so much that I nearly missed Baron von Steubfeld and Lady Bennett leave the floor and make their way to the French doors leading to the terrace.

“It’s hot in here. Would you like to step outside and get some air?” I asked.

“What?” He glanced around to where I stared at the French doors. “Oh. Yes, I would.”

We cut a tangled path through the dancers. Von Steubfeld and Lark Bennett had been outside for a minute or two by the time we reached the doors. Long enough to have lost us in the dark.

When Nobles opened the door, I discovered I needn’t have worried. Past the light of torches hung from poles around the terrace, I could see two figures strolling in the garden away from the house parallel to the baron and Lady Bennett. A familiar pale blue dress reflected the moonlight. It was Emma, walking with Sir William.

Suddenly, branches snapped and bushes shook at the end of the garden beyond where the baron and Lady Bennett stood. Two men fell to the ground. “Gracious,” I exclaimed as Mr. Nobles moved forward, saying, “Everyone all right?”

“Burglar,” Fogarty said as he struggled to stand on his injured leg. He made a grab for his leaner, more agile adversary.

The second man moved into bright moonlight in the clearing for an instant, and I found myself looking at Mick Snelling. Before I could glimpse whether he was carrying a package the size of the ship plans, he bolted into the darkness and escaped.

Fogarty chased after him, leaving his bowler hat on the path. Lady Bennett looked over her skirt with an expression that said she was furious. Either she’d been splattered by mud or she didn’t like Snelling taking chances on being caught. Mr. Nobles walked over and picked up the hat. “I say, we’ve had a bit of excitement.”

His wide-eyed enthusiasm was so at odds with his usual demeanor I nearly laughed. Baron von Steubfeld, who’d been closest to the action in the bushes, looked at Nobles and in a tone that said the incident had nothing to do with him, asked, “Do you often have burglars at house parties?”

“They go where the pickings are the best,” Nobles answered and strolled back toward the house.

Since I hadn’t been spotted by the baron or Lady Bennett, I slipped back into the ballroom. The dance had ended, and the orchestra was readying for the next number. “What happened?” a warm baritone murmured in my ear.

“Your Grace. Mick Snelling was discovered by Fogarty in the bushes near the baron and Lady Bennett. There was a scuffle and Snelling escaped with Fogarty chasing him. The baron didn’t seem surprised by any of this. Lady Bennett appeared annoyed.” I looked up at Blackford, wondering if he’d come looking for me or if he was checking on the action in the garden.

The music began. “Georgina. Would you do me the honor?”

He led me out onto the dance floor and held me in an intimately tight embrace. While Mr. Nobles was a fine dancer and Lord Porthollow an energetic one, the duke held me so I couldn’t fail to match him step for step. We gracefully moved as one across the shiny hardwood. My dreams of dancing with the duke had never been this smooth. This polished. This wonderful.

I smiled up at him and let him lead me where he wanted. He noticed my smile and squeezed my hand, whispering in my ear, “Was this worth waiting for?”

“Yes.” I sighed. The feel of his breath on my skin was enchanting. I memorized the swirl of brightly colored dresses in time to the music. The one errant curl brushing his collar. The smell of his soap.

We twirled around the room once, twice, and then I made the mistake of looking toward the entrance to the room. There in the archway, standing with two other evening-dress-clad men, was my parents’ killer.

“There he is,” I whispered into the duke’s ear.

“Who? Snelling?”

“No. My parents’ killer. Come on.” I pulled Blackford off the dance floor toward the doorway. By the time we reached it, the three men had vanished.