Текст книги "The Counterfeit Lady"

Автор книги: Kate Parker

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I stood in the hallway, looking in all directions. The duke said, “This way. Front entrance,” and hurried me along. My dancing slippers slid from rug to rug on the smooth floor as I tried to keep up.

When we turned the corner, we saw the butler closing the front door. “Who just left?” the duke demanded.

“Sir Wallace Vance and two of his guests.”

While Blackford spoke to the butler, I dashed around them and pulled open the door. A carriage was in motion, wheels grinding and horseshoes clomping on the gravel drive. All I could see was the back of a large, dark-colored coach.

“His guests’ names?”

If the butler found my behavior and the duke’s question strange, he didn’t hesitate or blink. “A Mr. van der Lik and Count Farkas.”

“I didn’t see them at the ball. Were they in the card room?”

The butler remained stoic. “I couldn’t say, Your Grace.”

Blackford took my hand. “We’ll call on Mr. Vance tomorrow.”

I sounded slightly breathless as I tried to pull him toward the door. “He might have left by then.”

It would have been easier to move a mountain than the duke. “No, he won’t. We’ll meet him tomorrow. Come on, Georgina. We have more important business tonight.”

Unfortunately, tonight was our best chance for catching my parents’ killer as well as retrieving the stolen designs for the new warship. I’d vowed to find the ship blueprints and prove Gattenger innocent. That was the reason I was there. And I’d promised Phyllida I’d succeed in this investigation.

I’d have to ignore the man I’d vowed to catch a dozen years before. But only until the next day. Then I’d have the duke’s assistance to confront Sir Wallace and his murderous guest. “All right, Your Grace. Lead on.”

He took my arm and led me along the corridor. As soon as we were out of sight of the butler, Mr. Nobles stepped out of a doorway. “Snelling got away and took the drawings with him.”

“Where is he now?” Blackford demanded.

“We don’t know. There are Archivist Society people searching the town, but they’ve had no luck so far.”

“He’ll come back here,” I said with certainty. “He wants to get his money and be free of those drawings. They’ve been nothing but trouble for him.”

“I was surprised he didn’t follow your suggestion to his sister and take the drawings to Stevens to get a second set made and get twice the money,” the duke said.

“Stevens?” Mr. Nobles asked, his eyes narrowing.

“My butler. Mrs. Monthalf talked to his sister and suggested a plan for Snelling to double his money. It also would have meant we’d have the original plans and be able to pass on slightly altered, and useless, drawings in their place. He was spotted by one of my footmen loitering across the street, but after half an hour, he left and didn’t return.”

“A pity. It would have saved us all this effort,” I grumbled. It would also have allowed us to chase after the man I sought tonight.

The duke must have read my mind, because he answered, “Then we wouldn’t have needed to travel to the country at all and you wouldn’t have seen your quarry.”

“Who?” Nobles asked.

“A separate inquiry,” I answered.

“Shall we try to dance an entire waltz?” the duke asked, taking my arm and ignoring Mr. Nobles.

“I’d love to.” If Snelling returned now and destroyed my opportunity, I’d throttle him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE ball was lovely, fortunately lacking the reappearance of Snelling and the ship designs he’d stolen from Gattenger. Baron von Steubfeld danced with Lady Harwin, Lady Bennett, and an elderly dowager. Sir Henry danced with Lady Peters and then escorted her onto the terrace.

After our waltz, Blackford deserted me for the very eligible Miss Amanda Weycross, daughter of a lord and guest of the Teweses’ daughter, followed by the equally eligible Lady Anne Stewart, daughter of the Scottish earl and his wife. I was asked once to dance by our host and then once by Mr. Nobles. Otherwise, I was on my own.

I walked over to join Lady Peters and Baron von Steubfeld in conversation. “The duke has chosen another partner?” the baron asked as I neared them.

“He can’t dance every dance with me. It’s not done,” I told him. “And why aren’t you dancing with Lady Bennett?”

“She was claimed by the Viscount Gathwite, and Sir Henry decided to take a solo journey around the gardens, abandoning Lady Peters.”

Sir Henry, who’d worried Ken Gattenger into taking the drawings home that fateful evening to restudy his calculations, therefore making them available to Mick Snelling. I had the sudden terrible feeling I’d misjudged Stanford and his connection to the thief.

The only thing I could think to say was, “Oh, dear. There were ruffians out there earlier. I hope they haven’t returned. It might not be safe to be out there alone.”

As an excuse, it was pretty weak, but I hurried toward the French doors leading to the terrace, aware of Lady Peters following me. Once outside, I looked around, hoping my eyes would quickly adjust to the torchlight and moonlight. I noticed the baron didn’t join us.

Lady Peters stood next to me. “Do you really think he might be in danger? I’d hate for anything to happen to him, even as angry as I am at him at this moment.”

Sir William and Emma walked up to us. “It’s lovely outside,” Emma said.

“Yes, it is. You haven’t seen Sir Henry Stanford, have you?” I asked.

“We’re afraid he might have run into difficulties,” Lady Peters added.

“How terrible. We’ve not seen him, but we’ll help you look. Shall we go this way?” Sir William said.

“Thank you. That would be helpful,” I said and nodded to him.

He escorted Emma away, and I headed in the opposite direction, afraid of what I’d find. I suspected Sir Henry, but I didn’t want to. If I caught him with Snelling, I’d raise an unholy ruckus out of disappointment and anger.

I rushed down one path and then another, Lady Peters trailing me. Reaching a dark bend in the path behind large shrubbery, I nearly tripped over a figure lying facedown. I turned him over, hearing Rosamond Peters gasp as we saw Sir Henry’s face by moonlight.

“Is he—still alive?”

I felt for a pulse. “Yes. Run back to the house and tell our host to send some footmen to carry him inside.”

“Do you think it’s his heart?”

“No. I think it’s the nasty blow to the back of his head that’s felled him. Rosamond, please hurry.”

She dashed away. I wished I had a lantern to show me the area around us. I’d like a clue to tell me who had attacked Sir Henry. Footprints, a shirt stud, anything to point to his attacker.

Thank goodness the first footmen Rosamond Peters brought carried a lantern. In the flickering light, his bloody head wound was visible. So were the scuffed footprints around him. Despite the dampness retained in the soil, the only firm marks matched the worn heels of Sir Henry’s shoes. A rock tossed into a nearby flower bed had what appeared to be blood on one side.

Clues, yes, but leading where? His attacker could have come from the ballroom or from outside of the estate. I rose from where I’d bent over Sir Henry, checking on his condition and searching for clues, and let the footmen carry the wounded man indoors.

“Oh, Mrs. Monthalf, your dress is ruined.”

At Lady Peters’s words I looked down and discovered my dress had dirt spread a few inches up from the hem. Then I glanced at hers. “Yours is, too.”

“I’ll gladly lose a ball gown if Sir Henry recovers.”

I nodded in agreement, then jumped as Lord Porthollow stepped into my path. “How is Sir Henry?”

“Unconscious. Did you see what happened?”

“No. I came outside to see what all the excitement was about. I was hoping you could tell me.” He smiled, making deep creases in his leathery skin.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to tell.” I followed Lady Peters into the house by the side door where they’d taken Sir Henry. Muddy footprints lined one side of the carpet, as if a man carrying Sir Henry on that side had stepped in wet dirt. Then Lady Peters walked along the middle and left equally muddy marks. I checked, and my own slippers were not nearly as soiled as hers. What had she stepped in?

I put out a hand and stopped Rosamond. “When did Sir Henry go out into the garden alone?”

“It was such a nice night that we decided to talk outside. I told him I was angry with him for stealing that letter, and he blamed everything on you. We headed back toward the terrace, no longer friends. Suddenly, Sir Henry stopped and told me to go in. He’d follow me in a few minutes. When I suggested I could stay outside if I wanted, he shooed me indoors. I don’t know if he saw something odd or planned to meet someone.” She gave an indifferent shrug.

“Fortunately, you went in. Otherwise you both might have been attacked.”

“Or unfortunately. I might have screamed and frightened off the attacker.” She looked up the stairs where they had carried Sir Henry to his bedroom. “I suppose they’ve called a doctor, and we would just be in the way.”

She turned and walked into the ballroom. I followed, hoping the duke had finished dancing with the lovely young aristocrats.

He had. “They’re about to play the last waltz before we go into the supper room. Dance with me.”

He escorted me onto the dance floor, and once again his masterful hold on me negated my waltzing inadequacies. “What happened?” he whispered in my ear.

This was to be a working dance.

“Sir Henry was attacked. He’s still alive.”

“Why Stanford?”

“If I knew who, I could tell you why. The plans were not in evidence.” How I wished they had been.

“You think Stanford, and not the baron, was to retrieve the drawings from Snelling?”

“Possibly. He did convince Gattenger to take a set home to work on them the night Snelling broke in.” And everything he told me could have been a lie.

“The attack on Stanford could be a screen for handing off the plans to someone else,” Blackford said.

“Or Sir Henry saw something and had to be stopped from raising the alarm. I met Sir Jonah Denby here. He says he’s really Lord Porthollow, interested in whether Sir Henry stole the blueprints, because if so, Sir Henry would be eliminated from the bidding and then he, Lord Porthollow, would win. He was outside when Sir Henry was carried in.”

“Blast. There are too many possibilities. Too many suspects. I’ve been watching von Steubfeld all night and he hasn’t gone far.” The duke swung me around with a flourish and we waltzed in the opposite direction.

I managed to keep my feet under me as I considered our next move. “Maybe he knows Snelling won’t be back until the supper is served. With everyone eating and drinking, he might think it’ll be easier for him to slip away. Particularly since he must know he’s under surveillance.”

The duke raised his eyebrows before pulling me closer and speaking directly into my ear. “We’ll just have to keep an eye on von Steubfeld during supper. Afterward, the guests from the other house parties will be leaving. Lots of activity by the front entrance, and no one near the terrace.”

I struggled to keep waltzing and think about the handoff of the ship blueprints, but the way Blackford’s breath brushed my skin was claiming all my attention. “Except us.”

“And Sir William, Mr. Nobles, Emma, the Archivists—”

Now I felt as useful as a horse pushing a cart from behind. “All right. Where should we be?”

His dark eyes were the color of a gloomy sky. “I don’t know.”

“Surely you must have some idea.” I thought the duke always had an idea. Whether it was a good one was another matter.

“None.”

“Then we must keep an eye on everyone, especially the baron, and go with our instincts.”

“That’s not logical.”

I forced myself to sound more positive than I felt. I knew how important rescuing those naval blueprints was to the duke. “Sometimes we have to throw logic out the window and observe what is happening right in front of us.”

The waltz ended and everyone moved toward the dining room. Including the baron.

We followed at the end of the laughing, colorful crowd like a sorrowful tail. I was frustrated at our lack of progress. I could only imagine what was going through the duke’s mind.

Now that the music had ended, partiers found they had much to say to each other and stayed clustered in the dining room. Perhaps knowledge of the attack on Sir Henry had spread, keeping them together. When carriages began to arrive, the guests left in groups. They laughed, called farewells, and made a joyous racket. But they clung together for safety, and I saw several look over their shoulders.

As the last group left, Lord Harwin gave his butler orders to lock all the doors and wait for the doctor and the policeman to arrive about Sir Henry. Then he led the guests upstairs. Only a few men lingered in the smoking parlor. Von Steubfeld was one. Blackford was another.

Lady Harwin stopped me in the upstairs hall and asked if I was all right after the shock of finding Sir Henry unconscious in the shrubbery. I couldn’t tell her I’d seen much worse, so I told her I hoped Sir Henry recovered quickly from his accident and walked off toward our rooms with Phyllida.

Emma was waiting when Phyllida and I entered my room. “Did you see Snelling?” I asked her.

“Only the once, early on. He’s not come back, and none of the valets or maids left the house. Fogarty and some of the other Archivists are patrolling the grounds, but there are too few of them. Do you think the burglar will return as soon as the house is quiet?”

“I would. Did you see what happened to Sir Henry?” I asked.

“I didn’t know anything had happened until Lady Peters ran past toward the house. Sir William and I walked in your direction, but by that time you had everything under control,” Emma said.

“When had you seen Sir Henry before we discovered him attacked?” I took off my necklace and set it in the jewelry box.

A moment later, the duke walked in without knocking. I gave him a quick glance as Emma replied, “Earlier, deep in conversation with Lady Peters.”

“Is that what they call it now?” Blackford asked.

I shot a look at him, and the edge of his mouth quirked up. He continued to stare at me, and I couldn’t look away. Something about the look in his eyes sent a tremor through my veins.

“Yes. They seemed to be arguing. Sir Henry walked away and Lady Peters gave a deep sigh and ran after him. I didn’t see any more,” Emma said. She and Phyllida stepped behind a painted cloth screen, and a moment later Emma’s ball gown was draped over the top.

Had Rosamond Peters caught up with Sir Henry? And what were they arguing about? Sir Henry’s letter or Lady Peters’s son?

“The doctor’s arrived. Sir Henry hasn’t regained consciousness, so the doctor is having him watched during the night. He has every hope Sir Henry will be with us in the morning,” the duke said.

“Will he know who hit him when he awakes?” I asked.

“Probably not. Not unusual in cases of head injury to have no memory of the attack,” Blackford told me.

“If Snelling comes back tonight to meet with Sir Henry, he’ll be walking around outside with the plans and no one to give them to,” I said. “Emma, are you in your lady’s maid costume?”

“Yes.” She came out from the screen transformed into a servant.

“Help Phyllida get ready for bed and then slip down to the servants’ entrance to see if anyone leaves that way. I’m going to hide behind the curtains and watch the rooms on this corridor.”

Emma and Phyllida left my room, but Blackford blocked my path. “I’ll watch the men’s wing from the alcove with the suit of armor. Come and get me if you see anyone leave.”

I looked up at him, my arms crossed. “Only if you promise to get me if anyone leaves from your wing.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t pass up the chance to sneak around in a dark garden with you.” He smiled too broadly, and I discovered I didn’t believe a word he said. Then he slipped his arms around my waist as his expression turned serious. “We’re finally alone.”

I smiled up at him, unsure what to expect. No matter what roles we were playing, he was still a duke.

He bent down, his eyes focused on my suddenly dry lips. I licked them in an effort to make them feel normal and watched his eyes darken. My insides twitched in response and my lips baked despite the cool evening air.

I slid my hands up the sleeves of his jacket, reveling in the softness. He shifted me against his chest and my hands snaked around his shoulders. Great heavens. Blackford was going to kiss me.

He never got the chance. I moved forward and pressed my lips against his in a rush of desire. I held the back of his head so I could get that last fraction of an inch closer to him. I might never get another chance to kiss him, and I wanted to know what his skin felt like against mine.

And then Blackford took charge. The kiss softened and gained electricity that shot down my spine and made my toes curl. For a moment, we were a pirate-raider and a princess, and the world stood still.

Then he pulled away and said, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time. Now I’ve discovered this might become habit-forming.”

I smiled as if he had just given me the queen’s jewels. “Some habits are good for you.”

He released a long breath and swept one hand toward the door. “We need to catch Snelling. After you.”

Sticking my head out of the doorway, I saw the hall was empty. Blackford left behind me and shut the door. I hurried toward the draperies over the window at the end of the hall. The hall seemed long enough to stretch across the width of London, but finally I reached the end and climbed behind the draperies without anyone catching me. Luckily, the maids did a good job cleaning and I didn’t have to sneeze from the dust.

I peeked out from my hiding spot. The duke had already disappeared around the corner and I felt more alone than ever.

The window ledge was wide enough to sit on and draw my feet up, hiding me entirely from anyone who might see me in the weak light from the night lanterns. The glass windowpanes were cool to the touch from the night air. It was dark and quiet where I sat, and I soon felt my head nodding.

A noise woke me, bringing my head and back away from where I had leaned on the side of the window opening. I looked out through the gap between the draperies in time to see a woman’s skirt and foot disappear around the turn toward the main stairs.

I listened for a moment, but no one else appeared to be stirring. I climbed out of my hiding place and dashed in my dancing slippers to the top of the stairs. Looking down, I glimpsed the hem of a skirt glide down the far hallway.

Rushing along the staircase and foyer, I skidded to a stop when I reached the far hall. No one was in sight. I stopped in front of the door that led to the study. Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I opened the door. A quick check showed there was no one inside and there was no way out.

The next door led to a parlor with a connecting door to another parlor. I continued through the empty rooms, trying each locked, bolted door to the terrace in turn before reaching the door that brought me to the library.

The library’s exit leading into the back garden was unlocked and unbolted. Could Snelling be meeting his buyer on the terrace at this moment? I opened the door, stepped outside, and tripped. I waved my arms and stumbled, landing heavily on my hands and knees. Groaning, I pulled myself up using the half wall that encircled part of the terrace.

Rubbing my knees, I swung around to see what was in my path. A body lay on the ground with its arms and legs sprawled. The moonlight was bright enough that I could make out Mick Snelling’s features and the odd angle his head lay from his body.

I glanced around. No package. No blueprints. His attacker had beaten me to it. I was about to run back in and go upstairs to get Blackford when the door opened. Baron von Steubfeld blocked my path. His furious expression was nearly as intimidating as the pistol he aimed at me. A pistol I couldn’t fail to see glittering in the moonlight.

I stared at the gun rather than his face as I said, “Baron von Steubfeld.” I kept my shaking knees from carrying me back a step. There was no way I’d show fear to the top German spy in England, even if he planned to kill me. If? The pistol left me in no doubt as to his intensions.

“You killed him.”

“No, I—” Surprise jerked my gaze up to look at the baron’s face. “You think I killed him?”

“What have you done with the blueprints?” His voice ground out the unmistakable note of threat.

“Nothing. I found things just as you see them.”

“Do you want the money I would pay him? Because I assure you, there are other ways of making you tell me where the drawings are.” The moonlight showed the cruel smile beneath his mustache.

“She doesn’t have them.”

I made out the solid shadow of the Duke of Blackford behind him. The duke reached out his hand in front of von Steubfeld’s face. The German grimaced and gave him his pistol. “How can you be sure? She might have killed him and taken the plans for herself.”

“I am certain.” The duke must have pocketed the gun, because it was no longer in his hand when he stepped around the baron and knelt by Snelling. “He’s had his neck broken.”

“Professionally done?” the baron asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I apologize, Mrs. Monthalf. You are not a professional killer.”

I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. This was not the time to admit I was a professional, but one who lacked knowledge of breaking necks. “Sumner?” I asked Blackford.

“Possibly, but he would have waited here guarding the ship plans until help arrived. And he’s in London.” The duke rose. “What about your valet?”

A deep sigh rumbled through von Steubfeld’s chest. “Not him. I told him I would handle the transaction, after he botched the transfer last night.”

“Why wouldn’t Snelling deal with your valet?” Blackford had probably learned more from Sumner last night than he’d told me.

“He’d always dealt directly with me before. I suppose he didn’t trust an unknown intermediary.”

“Snelling had already been visited by Sir Henry Stanford with an offer for the blueprints. Perhaps he thought your valet worked for someone other than you,” I suggested.

“Perhaps,” the baron agreed. “And it cost Snelling his life. Meanwhile, my valet waits in my room to carry the drawings into the village. By morning he would have been well on his way to London to catch a boat across the North Sea.”

“After the first handoff, during the ball, failed. Our people were the ones who blocked the first attempt, Baron.” I was ready to give credit to the work the Archivist Society had done.

“You are to be congratulated, Miss Fenchurch.”

I looked at the baron in surprise. “You were the one who sent the notes?”

“Yes. One of my agents is a porter. Very handy when I want to find out what is being moved around London. He was puzzled by the number of sea trunks moved from a dressmaker’s to a house in Mayfair. I had you followed from the house to your bookshop. A few discreet questions gave me your name. When I began to ask around, I learned about your connection to the Archivist Society.” The baron gave me a considering look. “No one else figured out your true mission or your identity. You are to be congratulated.”

I nodded to him graciously. I wasn’t ready to finish playing the well-brought-up lady. “Those notes. Would you have killed me?”

“If I couldn’t find a better solution.”

I shivered.

“I think it’s time to wake our host and have him call the police,” Blackford said, an edge to his voice.

“Does my interest in this man need to be made public?” the baron asked.

“Not if you give me your word as a gentleman that you don’t know where the drawings are currently, don’t have them in your possession, and won’t try to retrieve them.” The duke stared at the baron.

The baron held his gaze. “I neither have them nor know where they are. If they should fall in my lap, I will of course attempt to send them to Germany. That is how the game is played.”

“It’s not a game. A man is dead,” I said.

“Unfortunately, Snelling is the only man who could have testified to Gattenger’s innocence in his wife’s death,” the duke told me.

“Surely all this will be enough to free him from prison.” I sounded slightly desperate to my own ears.

“All what, Georgina? We have a dead man miles from the Gattenger home with no apparent connection to either the husband or the wife. No, finding the drawings on Snelling might have been sufficient. The testimony of a live Snelling certainly would have helped. Finding a dead man without the plans does nothing to prove Gattenger didn’t kill his wife or commit treason.” The duke prowled the area around the body, no doubt looking for the blueprints.

The baron leaned against the door frame, watching him.

“Do you have any other operatives in the area, von Steubfeld?”

“No.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” His grumble told me he now saw that as a mistake.

“How do we know he didn’t kill Snelling instead of paying him, then hide the blueprints and come back here to move the body, only to find I arrived first?” I asked the duke.

“Snelling was a skilled thief. I needed him alive. And I’ve never minded paying him his fee,” the baron said. “I will take an oath as a gentleman to that effect.”

“Your word is sufficient,” the duke said.

Baron von Steubfeld gave a sharp military bow in reply.

“He’s telling you the truth,” the duke added. “I showed the drawing Gattenger did of Snelling to some friends at Whitehall, who showed it to a witness in another case where the baron was suspected. He’s used Snelling before.”

“And so you are indirectly responsible for Clara Gattenger’s death,” I pointed out. “You sent Snelling to her house to steal from them and he killed her.”

The baron crossed his arms over his chest. “I am not responsible for Snelling’s foolish mistake. And I have diplomatic immunity as a member of the German embassy staff.”

I glared at him, knowing he was right. There would be no charges filed against him, and nothing that would clear Gattenger’s name. Clara’s killer, Snelling, was dead. But who killed him? And where were the blueprints? This was going to be a very long night.