Текст книги "The Counterfeit Lady"

Автор книги: Kate Parker

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I rubbed my gloves along my chilled arms. “Do you want me to tell Lord and Lady Harwin they have a dead body in their garden?”

“Yes. Von Steubfeld and I will wait here for reinforcements.” Blackford smiled. “That will assure both of us of our mutual honesty.”

I went back in through the door I’d exited, knowing whoever had killed Snelling couldn’t have come this way. I’d have seen him. And he’d have to be a hulking brute to snap a man’s neck. At least the criminals I knew with that talent were.

Hurrying up the stairs, I hesitated for a moment, trying to remember what door I’d seen Lord Harwin enter. Mercifully, one of the footmen appeared from down the hall. “Are you coming from Sir Henry’s room?”

“Yes,” the footman said with a yawn.

“How is he?”

“Still unconscious. He’s breathing. One of the maids is with him now.” He took a step to move on, his eyelids drooping.

“Could you wake Lord Harwin? We have a body in the garden.”

The footman stared at me for a moment, groaned, and then hurried over to a door and tapped on it. When that didn’t bring a response, he tapped harder. A sleepy grumble could be heard.

The footman walked in and I followed as Lord Harwin sat up in bed. Seeing me, he quickly threw a robe over his striped pajamas. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a dead body in the garden,” I said.

Lord Harwin gawked at me as if I’d grown a second head.

“Baron von Steubfeld and the Duke of Blackford are guarding it until the police are summoned.”

“You’d think these people would have better manners than to kill each other off in my garden. I’ll be right there.” His lordship stuffed his feet into slippers and rose, belting his robe as he crossed the room.

I ran downstairs again, planning to go out to the two men. Instead, I began to move around, checking room by room, looking for anything out of place. Anything that might tell me where the drawings were.

There were too many hiding places. Chests, bookshelves, drawers in the servers. I’d have to turn on the lights and start searching room by room. Or get the duke or Lord Harwin to order it.

I went out onto the terrace and began to try the other doors into the house, watched by the duke and von Steubfeld. The doors to the ladies’ parlor and the red parlor were still locked. I went the other direction past the two men and tried the first door on the other side. It opened easily. I stuck my head inside and didn’t recognize the room.

“What is this?”

“The smoking room.”

I’d check this as the most likely room in which to hide the plans as soon as Lord Harwin or the police took over watching the crime scene. The killer I’d followed hadn’t had much time to snap Snelling’s neck and get back into the house before I came out.

I walked back to Blackford and told him my suspicions. “If he hasn’t run into the village instead,” was his reply.

“Then someone will be missing from the house, and that will be easy to discover.”

“Could it be Lady Bennett, Baron?”

He looked at me and laughed. “Good heavens, no. I don’t trust her, but I’m sure she is only out for the pleasure of being seen at the best parties. And I only use her for—social occasions and gossip.”

“Was she out for pleasure in breaking Clara Gattenger’s heart by telling her another woman’s secret?” I asked. “You did ask Lady Bennett to tell Mrs. Gattenger, didn’t you?”

The baron frowned but did not reply.

Blackford said, “What is this?”

“The reason there was a fire in the Gattenger study the day Clara was killed. The baron told Lady Bennett of Gattenger’s secret the same day Gattenger took the new warship plans out of the Admiralty. It turns out that both times their engagement was called off, Ken Gattenger had an affair. Lady Bennett immediately told Clara Gattenger what the baron told her. Clara insisted on facing the woman and demanding any love letters or trinkets her husband had given the woman. She took them home and burned them.” I stared angrily at the baron.

“Von Steubfeld, is this true?” The duke employed his most commanding tone.

“Yes. I thought it would keep the Gattengers out of the study that evening, allowing Snelling to get in and take the blueprints. Regretfully, it didn’t work.” He shrugged.

I wanted to punch him for being so callous. “The baron told Lady Bennett that delivering bad news was her payment for dancing with the devil.”

Blackford winced.

“What’s more, Your Grace, I’ve been told Lady Bennett was trying to get her hands on the blueprints Snelling possessed.” I glared at the baron.

“Lady Bennett was trying to get the ship blueprints for herself? That’s impossible.” The baron laughed. “Lady Bennett understands clothes and manners and decorating. She wouldn’t know what a blueprint looked like.”

“We’re going to need to search every inch of this house to find the blueprints. You can refuse on diplomatic grounds, von Steubfeld, for your luggage and wardrobe to be searched, but I ask that you agree. It will make it difficult for anyone else to object,” Blackford said.

“And therefore easier to find the person who cheated me.” The baron smiled with a look that made me shiver. He was already planning revenge. “Very well. I agree.”

Lord Harwin arrived accompanied by the footman I’d spoken to earlier. The weary footman was ordered to send someone into town to carry a message to the police station and to bring back the doctor. He shuffled off, head bowed. Then Harwin went inside to wake his staff and his wife.

The baron, Blackford, and I went into the house when a second footman came to stand watch over the body. I glanced back to see the young man gaze nervously over his shoulder and then look longingly at the house. The baron went upstairs, presumably to tell his valet the bad news. After a few minutes, sleepy-eyed members of the staff were fanning out throughout the main floor with their morning duties, lighting gas lamps as they plumped cushions and dusted and swept. The dining room was prepared for an early breakfast.

I guessed Lord Harwin had warned his servants that the police would soon arrive and some of the guests would either be disturbed out of their rest or would come downstairs out of curiosity.

“I think we should check the smoking room. It’s the most likely place for someone to have reentered the house.” I started in that direction.

“Why not the ladies’ parlor? It’s as close to the entrance where the body was found as the smoking parlor.”

“Because, Your Grace, Lady Bennett could have known what the baron was up to and wanted to get there first. She could name her own price for those blueprints with half a dozen countries, including ours. And she would know, like I do, that the parlor door to the terrace was locked and bolted tonight by the butler when everyone went to bed. Lord Harwin had given specific instructions in front of everyone after Sir Henry was attacked in the garden. That door is still bolted, and I found the smoking parlor door unlocked.”

“Your Grace,” Lady Harwin called from the foot of the stairs.

He walked over to talk to her, and I went into the smoking room. The gaslights were now lit, and I could easily see there was no bolt on this door. The key was on a table a few feet from the door.

“Does my lady require anything?” The man’s voice made me jump.

I swung around to find myself facing the butler. “Was this door locked last night?”

“I’m sure it was. I asked the gentlemen still in here when the rest of the guests had retired to lock this door.”

“Who were these gentlemen?”

“Baron von Steubfeld and the Bishop of Wellston.”

I immediately eliminated the Anglican bishop from espionage. The baron could have pretended to lock up, leaving it open for a meeting with Snelling. A meeting someone disrupted.

“Thank you.” I gave a gracious nod and turned back to my study of the room.

His footsteps barely made a sound as he walked away.

There was a small chest against the side of the room. I carefully opened the dry leather clasps of the old trunk. Empty. There was a server with several drawers. The only thing I managed to do was wrinkle the linens stored there and shuffle the paper and ink bottles. I looked under chairs and tables. Nothing lurked between the furniture legs.

I was about to give up in disgust when I looked at the top of the server and a table that ran behind the sofa in the direct path from the terrace to the hallway. Various boxes of cigars were scattered around. Boxes large enough to hold the papers we sought.

One after another, I reached into the painted wooden boxes to make certain they contained only cigars. Finally, I put my hand in one and hit something that was too bulky to be cigars under a single layer of Havana’s finest. I dumped the cigars on the tabletop and found blueprint paper underneath.

Laughing with relief, I unfolded the papers. While I couldn’t understand them, I could make out the outline of a ship on the top sheet. I swung around, the papers in one hand, and froze where I stood.

Rosamond Peters stood before me, a pistol in her hand and her bag tucked under her arm. Her gun was smaller than the baron’s, but it looked just as lethal.

“Lady Peters. This isn’t what this appears to be.”

“On the contrary, it is. This appears to be the second time you’ve taken something that belongs to me.”

My expression would have been comical in a cheerier situation. “You? Why would you want this?”

“Not for myself, you understand. For France.”

At Lord Fleetwhite’s dinner party, I had heard that no one knew who the French spy was. “You’re the French spy. A woman. How clever. Of course none of those men would realize you were a spy.”

“You didn’t, either.”

“Because I thought you were my friend.” And then I remembered another incident. “The hatbox the thief wanted was yours. That’s how you pass messages.”

“That’s one way.” She smiled, but it was a colder, less friendly smile than I’d seen on her face before.

“Why did the thief take Lady Phyllida’s hatbox instead of yours?”

“He was hired by my contact—”

“The jeweler Henry at Fortier’s.”

She smiled but didn’t admit it. “—to take my hatbox, but he didn’t know what I looked like. He grabbed the first box from Gautier’s that he saw.”

“You knew that Baron von Steubfeld planned the theft of the drawings? And you decided to take them instead while everyone was looking in another direction?”

“Everyone was busy making arrangements to come here, so there had to have been something valuable attracting all this attention. I came along to find out what it was.” She walked toward me.

For once I obeyed my cowardly feet and took three steps back, frantically refolding the blueprints. Then I began to edge around the end table and the sofa.

“Please, Georgina. I don’t want to shoot you. But I will to get those drawings back.”

“Back? You were the one to put them in the cigar box?”

“Of course. I came down to retrieve them while the police searched my room. Unfortunately, you got here first.”

“Then who broke Snelling’s neck?”

“I did.”

“You know how to do that? I’m impressed.” I stopped, stunned to be in the presence of a woman who was deadlier than Emma. What I wouldn’t give for Emma’s knife at that moment. And the knowledge of how to use it.

She chose that moment to lunge toward me to grab the blueprints.

I jumped back, clutching them to my chest. “Did you strike down Sir Henry?”

“He told me he’d figured out my secret.”

“Which one?” I took two more steps away from her, backing up toward the door onto the terrace. The door was unlocked. If I could open the door fast enough and get outside, it would buy me time. Open the door faster than a bullet?

“That I spy for France.” She matched me, step for step.

“You won’t shoot me, Lady Peters. There are too many people around.”

“But none to see who fired the pistol. I shoot you, grab the drawings, drop the gun, and slip outside. I’ll come in another way and join the group who comes running to see what has happened. I’ll of course lament the loss of my friend Georgina.”

I swung around a chair and backed along the far side of the room toward the door standing open into the hallway. “There’s a footman standing guard on Snelling’s body on the terrace. He would hear the gunshot and see you leaving.”

“Then I shall have to open the door and call to him that a madman is shooting at us and to help. You won’t be in any position to disagree with me.”

Her plan would work. The only thing I could do was try to reach the hallway before she fired. Once there, I’d certainly be in sight of someone. I kept backing up.

She raised her pistol.

I covered my chest with the blueprints, hoping Rosamond Peters didn’t want a bullet hole damaging the warship drawings.

“Stop right there.”

I’d never been so glad to hear Blackford’s voice.

“You’re unarmed, Duke.” Lady Peters glanced from Blackford to me, calculating her chances, which had suddenly turned against her.

“But the man standing behind you isn’t.”

The gaslights wavered in the breeze from the open door to the garden. I looked past Rosamond to see Fogarty in the doorway.

She lowered her pistol. “Damn you, Georgina. How did you know to look here for the blueprints?”

“I followed you downstairs. When I found Snelling, you had disappeared, but I knew you hadn’t gone far.”

“I didn’t think anyone would suspect me.”

“I didn’t. For the longest time I thought it was Lark Bennett.”

She laughed, but the sound was brittle. “I showed my hand too soon.”

“You said Lady Bennett wanted the blueprints in exchange for her silence.”

“I lied to you, Georgina.”

I hoped she was sorry. I was. I’d liked her.

Once Fogarty had taken the small pistol from her hand, she gave me a searching look. “You’ve not given away all my secrets, have you?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“Thank you.”

Leave it to the duke to put things together at that moment. “Lady Peters is the one who had the affair with Ken Gattenger.”

“Yes, Your Grace. She had an affair that Clara found out about the day she was murdered. They were his letters to Lady Peters that Clara burned in the fire that evening.”

“Is that all of her secrets?” Blackford asked.

“Yes. Of course. Aren’t spying and a sexual liaison enough for one woman?”

Rosamond Peters gave me a grateful look.

His mother may have killed a man, but there was no reason a young boy should pay for her sins with the loss of his name and title.

The police raced in and took Lady Peters into a hesitant custody. She said, “Duke, would you contact the French ambassador for me, please?”

He bowed as she was led away.

Only then could I allow myself a gasp. I smacked Blackford in the chest with the blueprints and left the room to go upstairs and sleep for what little was left of this night. I’d had my fill of aristocrats.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I awoke to sunlight streaming in my window. “What time is it?” I mumbled.

“One in the afternoon. You’ve slept through everything, including the local vicar and the Bishop of Wellston discussing whether you should have been awakened for Sunday services. The duke forbade it.” Phyllida smiled. “But now the duke has sent me to wake you. He said you have an appointment this afternoon.”

My eyes flew open and I sat straight upright in the bed. “I’ll need Emma to help me dress. Ring the bell for her, will you?”

“She’s in with the police, giving them the official line. You’re stuck with me.” Phyllida was fairly gloating.

“Well, help me, then.” I pulled off my nightgown and yanked on a shift, rolled my stockings up my legs, and then grabbed my corset. “What is the official line?”

“You went to your old friend, the duke, to ask for his help in proving Clara’s husband didn’t kill her. The duke learned about the missing blueprints for the new ship the Admiralty has ordered. When you had Gattenger draw a picture of the burglar, Blackford passed it around Scotland Yard. Once he was identified as Mick Snelling, the duke had him followed. When the burglar came here, Lord Harwin came to your aid by inviting you to his house party.”

“This story seems to leave out a lot,” I said as Phyllida finished tightening my laces. Between us, we hooked my stockings to the ribbons dangling from my corset.

Her next words were lost as we pulled my petticoat over my head.

“What was that?”

“The two of you discovered Snelling approaching the house. By the time you caught up to him, Snelling was dead and the plans were gone.”

I slipped on a blouse, and Phyllida hurried through fastening the buttons. “Are the police buying this?”

“Dukes can be very persuasive.”

“How did he say we caught Lady Peters?”

“You found the blueprints while searching the downstairs, and she tried to kill you, confessing her crime. The French ambassador is in negotiations with Whitehall to have her sent back to France. He’s citing diplomatic immunity.”

I’d completely misjudged the French spy. “What about her son? He’s staying with relatives currently, but will she be allowed to see him? She is his mother.”

Phyllida shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“What about Baron von Steubfeld?”

“What about him? No one is mentioning his name.” Phyllida helped pull my skirt over my head.

“He hired Snelling to steal the plans.”

“There’s no proof of that, so the duke decided Snelling must have burgled the house, found the drawings, and saw his opportunity.”

“Blackford has a lot to answer for.” I slipped on my shoes and raced for the door.

“We have to put your hair up,” Phyllida cried.

My hair didn’t look like much when we finished pushing pins into it, but everything was staying in place. Phyllida grabbed a simple hat with a wide brim to protect me from the sun and pinned it on. The brim fortunately hid the worst of my hairdo. Then I grabbed my gloves and ran out of the room and down the hall to the stairs.

“Finally.” Blackford’s voice rose from the front hall. “Are you ready to go?”

I skidded to a stop and proceeded with decorum. “Of course, Your Grace,” I said while smoothly descending the staircase. “How nice of you to escort me.”

We climbed into Lord Harwin’s carriage. Once we were settled and the horses were in motion, I asked, “What has happened to Lady Peters?”

“She was taken to London under police escort. The baron also left this morning, so the blueprints will return this afternoon under armed guard. No sense tempting fate. Lady Peters did explain about the stolen hatbox.”

“What did she say?” And what would they do about Henry at Fortier’s? He was also part of France’s spy network.

“She had taken something for her contact in a hatbox. His shop was busy, so they’d made previous arrangements under these circumstances for her contact to hire someone to take the hatbox from her and bring it to the shop. The young man grabbed the wrong hatbox.”

“He must have been shocked when Emma and I gave chase. He dropped the hatbox and tried to run when he was cornered, no doubt thinking he’d get away and continue to look for the woman who had the hatbox he was supposed to take. No one could have foreseen how many Gautier hatboxes were being carried that morning.”

Blackford smiled. “I take it Emma had her knife with her?”

“Yes. Suggest to Whitehall they keep an eye on Fortier, the jeweler. She came in with a hatbox and looked unhappy to see us in his shop, Your Grace.”

“I will.”

I looked out the window at the sunny afternoon. The weather was ideal. “Did Lady Bennett leave?”

“She’s taken over the nursing duties for Sir Henry. Apparently she’s bossing the servants around unmercifully.”

“And everyone still thinks I’m Georgina Monthalf?”

Blackford lifted my gloved hand and kissed the back of it. “Yes, my love.” In a drier voice, he continued, “Although people are starting to wonder why I’m not visiting you at night. As a widow, it would be appropriate if we were discreet.”

I held his gaze. “And what does His Grace think?”

He squeezed my hand before he let it go. “His Grace is conflicted. Do you want me to visit you in your room tonight?”

I did, but my heart would be ground to dust when he chose a suitable duchess. “I appreciate you not beginning something that will end badly when you marry Miss Amanda Weycross.”

He jerked his head back. “Miss Amanda Weycross? Good God, woman, I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life with that addle-brained female for all the crown jewels and Buckingham Palace.”

“Lady Anne Stewart, then.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you met her mother?”

“Briefly.” At dinner and the ball the evening before. I planned never to make that mistake again.

“She’ll turn into her mother. She’s already a close approximation.” He started laughing. “Georgia, are you jealous? Don’t be. There isn’t a woman in the British Isles to match you.”

“But you have to produce an heir.”

“That necessity is the curse of being a peer.” He looked out the far side window of the carriage, giving me a clear view of the short, damp curls at the nape of his neck.

I studied that stiff neck, memorizing it for the times ahead. He’d soon be gone from my life, while I’d be back in my bookshop dreaming of becoming a duchess.

And he’d said there was no other woman in England to match me.

When he faced me and said, “We’re here,” it took me a moment to remember where “here” was. It took me longer to give up on the pleasant daydream of being the Duchess of Blackford.

I was about to face my parents’ killer with a heavy heart from thinking of the man who would never be mine, while Blackford stepped out of the carriage looking completely unruffled and held out a hand to help me out.

I smoothed my afternoon dress with my palms, straightened my hat, and climbed down. I couldn’t hide the pleasure his words gave me.

Lord Harwin’s footman knocked on the front door while I looked at the house. Much smaller and older than the Harwins’ palatial block, it had a faded air from the grimy stonework to the chipped paint on the window sashes. When the door opened, Harwin’s footman announced us and handed over our calling cards. The butler held the door wide, and we walked in.

I glanced back to see the footman saunter back to the carriage, the driver sliding over in the seat to make room for him. No doubt they planned to take advantage of their freedom from work by sitting and gossiping.

“If you’ll wait in the parlor, Sir Wallace will join you in a moment,” the butler said as he shut the front door and opened one off the hall.

The room was done in washed-out gold and pale blue. Sunshine didn’t seem to penetrate beyond the overgrown bushes outside the windows. The duke grabbed my hands, and I discovered I was wringing them.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, Georgina. I know how much this means to you, meeting an old friend of your father’s from India.”

Was he suggesting I pretend that was why I was here when I finally met him? It wouldn’t work. He would recognize me as surely as I’d known him the moment I saw him.

Sir Wallace Vance entered the room and we went through a round of bows and curtsies. After we were seated, he asked, “To what do I owe this honor, Your Grace?”

“Actually, I came at the request of Mrs. Monthalf. She recognized one of your guests at the ball last night as a friend of her father’s in India. She hopes to renew the acquaintance.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late. They’ve left already. Which one of my guests was it?”

“He’s a well-dressed older gentleman with silver hair.”

“That describes both my guests.”

“Tall, has a faint accent—”

“Again. Both of them.”

“He’s in the antiquarian book business.”

“Any guest who’s ever been here is interested in antiquarian books. That’s what we have in common.” Sir Wallace shifted in his chair, clearly wanting to stand and end our interview, but reluctant to upset a wealthy, antiquarian-buying duke.

I couldn’t say that the man I searched for had icy pale eyes and a cruel mouth. “He has the habit of carrying his newspaper neatly folded and tucked under one arm.”

“We all do that if our hands are occupied.”

“He does that even if his hands are free.”

Sir Wallace squinted in concentration. “It must be Mr. Wolf. He has that habit.”

“I was told your two guests were Count Farkas and Mr. van der Lik.”

“Formally, he’s Count Farkas. In England, he often goes by Mr. Wolf. He finds it simpler when doing business.”

“Is that a translation of his name from his native tongue?” Blackford asked.

“Yes. Hungarian. He’s a member of their nobility.”

The same name I’d heard from my South African contact. I had a name and a nationality for the man who killed my parents. I could have cheered. Remembering that I mustn’t destroy my persona, I asked, “Do you know where Mr. Wolf is headed?”

“To the continent. Where, exactly, he didn’t tell me. There’s a Gutenberg Bible he’s pursuing.” Sir Wallace shrugged. “He’s been seeking it for years. I hope he gets it. What a trophy.”

“I’d hoped to renew his acquaintance, but I guess that’s not to be. If you hear from him, please tell him I was hoping to speak to him.”

“Where should he get in touch with you?”

I glanced at the duke and smiled. “Have him write to me at Blackford House.”

*   *   *

UNFORTUNATELY, THE DUKE had already agreed to stay until the morning, which meant Phyllida, Emma, and I had to. Our house party was joined for dinner that night by the Marquis of Tewes and his guests. Dinner was pleasant enough, seated between a younger son, who was far too interested in the wines being served, and a married, middle-aged earl whose passion was outdoor sports. I didn’t believe England held as many birds as he claimed to have shot. At least the food was good and no one took credit for shooting any of the courses.

I looked down the long, crystal– and white-linen-covered table at Blackford. He was seated between Lady Harwin and Lady Ormond. Two middle-aged women wearing jewels and dour expressions. The picture of his wife in twenty years. Neither woman looked capable of joyous laughter, frightening exploits, or wild passion.

I’d never be a duchess.

Blackford didn’t appear to be enjoying their company. I couldn’t hide a small smile of satisfaction.

Lady Bennett, sitting nearby, said, “What are you smiling about?”

I went for the blandest explanation. “I’m enjoying the food, the conversation, everything about this dinner. The Harwins are excellent hosts.”

“Too bad you’re leaving in the morning. My sister and her husband, the Viscount Chattelsfield, will be here in the afternoon for tea. You could have reminisced about Singapore with them.”

I smiled as if that were a wonderful idea. Thank goodness I’d be back in London by then. “What a shame. Perhaps I’ll be introduced to them another time.” But not if I could help it.

I was leaving in the morning for stifling London and my own comfortable, middle-class life, my friends, and my bookshop. I could hardly wait. But I’d leave a little piece of my heart behind.

When the ladies retired to the parlor after dinner, I found myself the subject of Lady Ormond’s inquisition. “How is your ankle, Mrs. Monthalf?”

“Fine, thank you. I’ve quite recovered.”

“That was a foolish thing to do, to race out into the street. Whatever caused you to do that?”

She wore a sly smile as if she hoped the duke and I had quarreled. “I thought I saw an old friend of my father’s. I wanted to let him know I was in the area.”

“So did you get in contact with this—old friend?”

“No. I saw him at the ball last night, and then went with Ranleigh, I mean Blackford, to the home where he was staying. Unfortunately, the gentleman had been called away in the morning, and I missed him.” I glanced around the room. No one looked in our direction, but no one else was speaking. Apparently their curiosity about Georgina Monthalf hadn’t been satisfied.

I planned to retire Georgina tomorrow. I wondered if any of them would wonder what had happened to her.

“How unfortunate. And after your clever search of Lady Harwin’s main floor looking for stolen documents.”

I stared at her, wondering how much she had guessed. “Thank you.”

“The Duke of Blackford must like clever women. Of course, he liked Lady Peters, and I’m now told she was a spy.”

“I liked Lady Peters. I’m sorry she killed a man and endangered England’s naval superiority.”

“I feel so sorry for her son. Losing both his parents so young,” a woman’s voice said.

“I know his father’s sister. She, her husband, and their children love that little boy. They’ve been raising him as much as his mother has,” another upper-class woman’s voice said.

“Sounds like Lady Peters was engaged in men’s work to me. Aren’t you afraid being clever will make you too masculine to attract a duke?” Lady Ormond’s smile was pure venom.

“Cleverness isn’t masculine. I can think of several married ladies who are clever.” I turned to Lady Harwin. “I’ve had a wonderful time in your lovely home. I’m so sorry events ruined your delightful party.”

“Not at all.” Lady Harwin gave me a cheery grin. “I’ve never known such excitement. I can’t wait to tell my friends about what happened. They’ll all want to come and visit the scene of murder and espionage. Our terrace will be the envy of all.”

“Oh, Celeste, you’d be too ashamed,” Lady Ormond said.

“Nonsense, Mildred. It was almost like a play. The events happened here, but we didn’t know the dead man. He was a burglar, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” I answered when no one else would.

“Well, there, you see? Nothing to do with us. Events just came and happened here.” She smiled gleefully around the room. “Such excitement. And the good and loyal subjects of the crown triumphed. Thank you, Mrs. Monthalf, for bringing us such a diversion.”

I needed to disabuse her of that idea immediately. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring you anything. Lady Peters and the burglar brought the excitement here. I just went on a scavenger hunt and found the missing plans. Nothing you couldn’t have done.”

“But you were the one who saved England. You, a gentlewoman. Makes me proud to know you.”

“But no more likely to become a duchess,” Lady Ormond sniffed.

“A duchess? Of course not. But perhaps the wife of a baronet. Or one of these modern industrialists you read about. I’d imagine they’d want a wife with spunk,” Lady Harwin said.

The aristocrats present had considered me for duchess material and found me lacking. I wondered what they’d say if they knew how we’d deceived them. The person I couldn’t deceive was myself. I knew I could never be a duchess. But, oh, how I wanted to be.