Текст книги "The Counterfeit Lady"

Автор книги: Kate Parker

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CHAPTER FIVE

PHYLLIDA and I walked downstairs to find Blackford waiting for us in the parlor. He rose when we walked into the room decorated in dark purple and light blue. I curtsied and then walked over to the first window and shoved the draperies back as far as possible to get more light into the room. Then I opened the window.

“You don’t like the house?” Blackford asked.

“It’s by far the nicest leased house I’ve ever seen. Right now, I hope to get a breeze through the room.” I opened the draperies in the second window and tugged until the sash rose a few inches.

“What have you learned so far?”

“I have customers who will cheat me if they deal with Sir Broderick in my absence.” I shoved the third window drapes back and tugged on the wooden frame. It was stuck. “I also learned this afternoon I’m going to Lord and Lady Francis’s musical evening tonight.”

“You sound upset.”

“I wish you would tell me things before the last moment.” I yanked on the window. Still stuck. “Is Phyllida also invited?”

“Yes. But you’re the one who needs to flirt with me so we can begin our affair in record time.”

Affair? Record time? I jerked on the window and it flew up. I set the lace curtains to rights and turned to face the duke. “Aren’t you supposed to flirt with me?”

“I will, Mrs. Monthalf, but you have to flirt back. From the look on your face, I’d say that won’t happen.”

“What kind of a woman do you think I am?” I didn’t think wealthy Mrs. Monthalf would fall for a duke so quickly.

Phyllida looked from one to the other of us and slipped from the room.

The duke walked over to me and cupped my face in his hand. He didn’t squeeze my cheeks or hurt me in any way, but I couldn’t have moved if I tried. And I didn’t want to try. Standing so close to him I could smell old leather and older whiskey. “I think you’re a woman who was in love with me when we were younger, but I failed to ask for your hand and Mr. Monthalf did. You left and I never saw you again. You’re back in my life now, and I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

He held my gaze with his dark, mesmerizing eyes, and I felt the power of his declaration. For an instant, I thought he was talking to me. My heart soared. Then I remembered I was middle-class, he was a duke, and he was talking about the woman I was pretending to be. The duke’s primary interest was the fate of an empire, which rested on finding the plans for a warship.

Blast.

After I recovered from my deflating realization, I asked, “Where did we meet, Your Grace? Here in London?”

“Too many people would wonder why they couldn’t remember you. I spent time in India. You could have been living with your British army officer father. Then you married Monthalf and moved to another colony, and I came home.”

“Where were you? Calcutta? In how much danger are we of meeting someone who would have known my father or me?”

“Yes, Calcutta will do nicely. I don’t know of anyone involved in this who’s been to India. And where did you and Phyllida decide you moved after your wedding?”

“Singapore. She had a Monthalf cousin, Edgar, who was in business there. He never married and died a few years ago. Are we in any danger of being discovered from that choice?”

“Not that I know of.”

The duke still held my face in his bare hand, skin touching skin. I didn’t move, not wanting the moment to end.

His expression turned grim. “You’ve been against playing the role of a widow since we began planning this investigation. Is this because you were a mistress who never took your wedding vows?”

I jerked backward, the mood between us broken. “No. As a single woman, I’m against leaving my shop, my source of income, in the hands of others while we search for Clara Gattenger’s killer.”

“And the blueprints to the greatest warship ever designed.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I took a full step backward and blinked away my tears. “Are you worried I can’t play my role convincingly because he died before we reached the altar?”

“No. I’m worried you won’t be able to play your part convincingly because it will hurt too much.”

I was surprised at the kindness I heard in his voice. “This role has nothing to do with my real life.”

“Nevertheless, you’d be less than human if it didn’t bother you.”

I looked into his eyes, letting him see into my deepest being. His genuine concern demanded complete honesty. “Your Grace, if there were any man today I’d let into my bed, it would be you.”

He took my hand and raised it to his lips. The skin of his lips was slightly rough against my flesh. Would they feel as rough if I kissed him? “I’m honored.” He lowered my hand. “What happened to your lover?”

“We had had a long, cold winter. Just as we entered spring and began to plan our wedding day, he came down with a fever. It quickly grew worse and traveled to his brain. He died the day before they read the banns the second time.”

“I’m sorry. And I’m flattered you’re letting me follow him, if only as a pretend lover.”

I held his gaze for a long time as I wrapped his startling consideration around me. Then I shook my head and said, “How do we want to begin our affair tonight?”

“Before the musical performance begins at the Francises’, we’ll meet and exclaim over how long it’s been. That will give me an opening to sit with you and we can begin our flirtation.” He strode away from me, running a hand through his hair.

A breeze fluttered through the window, cooling my heated skin. I closed my eyes and drank in the refreshing air, nearly missing his next words.

“Baron von Steubfeld will be in attendance tonight. We need to keep him aware that his every move is being scrutinized.”

I opened my eyes and stared at him. “Why do you think the drawings haven’t already been passed to him and then sent by diplomatic pouch to Berlin?”

With perfect timing, Phyllida reentered the room. I suspected she had eavesdropped. My cheeks grew warm despite my suspicion that Phyllida already knew my fiancé had been my lover.

“We know the baron hasn’t received them yet,” Blackford said.

“How?”

The duke waved me closer and lowered his voice as he stood between Phyllida and me. “We’ve been reading privileged diplomatic messages between von Steubfeld and Berlin. The baron complained in a telegram this morning that he’s been watched too closely to take possession of the plans yet.”

I was shocked. Such things were not done. I didn’t even think they were possible. “You can’t do that,” I said, my voice rising. “That was a private message from an embassy to its government.”

His dark look made me clamp my mouth shut. “That it was in code made our task even more difficult. We aren’t supposed to read other nations’ messages. Neither is Germany or any other country. However, on those few occasions when we gain access to dispatches, we do. So does everyone else.”

“It would start a war if anyone found out,” I whispered.

“That’s why I must trust you and Lady Phyllida with complete discretion.”

We both nodded. Then I had to ask, “Why are you trusting us with this? You didn’t have to tell us anything.”

“You are risking not only social embarrassment but physical danger by taking part in our efforts to stop the transfer of those plans. Someone has already killed to obtain them. They won’t shy away from another murder.”

He looked at Phyllida. “I shouldn’t be asking you to do this.”

“Clara died trying to prevent those warship plans from falling into the wrong hands. The least I can do is see that her death is avenged.” Phyllida crossed her arms over her chest and looked from the duke to me as if she thought someone would try to stop her.

My mind was working furiously. “If Baron von Steubfeld hasn’t been able to get the drawings because he’s too closely watched, he’ll have to change his situation so his movements aren’t so easily observed. Or use someone else to handle them.”

“We know. We have our ears open for word on how he plans to change the circumstances.”

“Was that the royal ‘we,’ Your Grace?”

The tiniest hint of a smirk crossed his mouth. “You didn’t think it was only the Archivist Society working on a problem of national importance, did you?”

Once again, his attitude annoyed me. “Is there anything else we need to know today? We won’t be able to speak freely tonight. Not if we’re going to deliberately draw an audience.”

“I suspect Sir Henry Stanford. He’s been watched closely, but he’s not been to the embassy. He did dine with Baron von Steubfeld two nights ago in a restaurant, but no packages passed between them.”

There was danger in focusing too closely on only a few people. “What about someone else in the German embassy?”

“Most of the staff at the embassy went home for the summer before the theft. No one has left the country since the burglary, and Scotland Yard has been watching all those still here.”

“There are three shipbuilders who’ve seen the design to bid on it. Why are you only focusing on Stanford?”

“The other two weren’t in the Admiralty when Gattenger took out a copy of the plans. They’ve never met von Steubfeld and they aren’t mired in debt. They’re being observed, but there’s no sign either of them is involved.”

I moved closer to the duke and looked him in the eye. “What has caused this bitterness between yourself and Stanford?”

“Stanford owes a great deal of money from the expansion of his shipyard. One of the people he owes is me. He’s in arrears in his payments and he and I have had nasty words in public.”

That might be the only public reason anyone knew of for their argument, but such animosity over a business loan seemed out of character for the duke. “I don’t believe you.”

“Sorry, Georgina, but sometimes men fall out over investments. It’s really that simple.”

I didn’t believe him. No, that wasn’t entirely true. I’d put my faith in Blackford before and been rewarded. I trusted him to deliver on his promises. I’d also learned that not everything he said was the truth. “I need to know more about Stanford before I can approach him.”

Blackford shrugged. “He’s a widower with a full head of dark hair heavily mixed with gray, although he’s only in his early forties. He knows how to attract the attention of women, but he doesn’t have any long-standing relationships, if you get my drift.”

He meant lovers or mistresses. That helped if I were to attract his attention and find out his connection to the Germans. I gave Phyllida a smile and said, “We’d better not take anything at face value with these people. Espionage isn’t the usual line of work for the Archivist Society.”

Phyllida took my hand. “I hope they take us at face value, Georgina. Otherwise, everything we’ve done is for naught, and poor Kenny will hang.”

*   *   *

KNOWING I NEEDED to make a good impression on everyone at Lord Francis’s that night while flirting with the duke, Emma set to work to make me look attractive.

Emma was breathtakingly beautiful. She should have been playing this role, but I would have been jealous knowing she was flirting with the duke.

Someday Blackford would have to marry to provide an heir and I’d envy the woman. In the meantime, I was determined to play my role to perfection. I wanted him to love me. Or at least admire me.

“I think—hold still—just one more pin. No, we need another one here. This would be easier, Georgia, if your hair wasn’t so thick,” Emma mumbled around a hairpin.

“Georgina,” I muttered back.

“Yes. Georgina. Or rather, ma’am. There. That’s got it. Now for some jewels. Something understated, I think.”

“I don’t have anything understated.”

Emma was looking through the jewel box we’d been lent for my role, ignoring me. There was a knock on the door before Phyllida came in and joined her. I sat at my dressing table, looking in the mirror at their reflections as they looked at various pieces, looked at me, and shook their heads.

“It can’t be that bad,” I finally told them.

“You have to look like you belong there, but not fade into just another society matron. We want all the old cats to see more in the duke’s interest in you than simply a matter of a former acquaintance.” Phyllida came up behind me and lifted my chin. Then she forced my shoulders back. “You must move like a lady.”

Hard to do when I was accustomed to moving stacks of books around. “I’m not supposed to know the duke will be there.”

“All the more reason for you to look your best. You’re stepping out in London society for the first time, and you know you’ll be judged by everyone there. You’ve lived in the colonies for years. Now you’re in a foreign land among strangers and you want to make friends. If you want to get more invitations, you need to look like one of them, but a little bit more. Not too much more. Understand?” Phyllida pulled a pair of diamond earrings from the jewelry box. “These will do.”

Emma hooked the long strands of tiny diamonds in my ears. “They emphasize your long neck.”

They did. They also must have cost a fortune. I was immediately worried about losing one.

“A necklace, do you think?” Emma asked.

“No. She’s a widow. She doesn’t want to look like she’s advertising for another husband. That would set everyone against her. She’s trying to fit in. I think she’s perfect the way she is.” Phyllida smiled at my reflection in the mirror.

I rose from my chair and slowly twirled for their inspection.

“Perfect. The lilac in the dress brings out the color of your eyes,” Phyllida said.

“I think you’re ready, ma’am,” Emma said.

I thought I was, too, until we set foot inside Lord Francis’s stately London home. In our furnished rental, we could seat twelve for dinner and perhaps as many in the parlor if we squeezed them in, and I was amazed at all the space and servants we had.

When we reached his lordship’s first-floor parlor—really two rooms opened into each other and reaching the entire depth of the house—there was seating for at least fifty plus a piano and space for the soprano to stand. Sparkling chandeliers hung overhead. Velvet draperies were pulled far back, allowing fresh air to enter the open windows and ruffle the lace curtains. The draperies matched the flowers in the wallpaper and in the thick rug that covered most of the gleaming wooden floor.

A formally dressed footman announced us, we thanked our hosts for inviting us, and then we moved past them into the room. Guests wandered from group to group of dazzling women and black-evening-coated men, all laughing and chatting amiably. I didn’t know a soul and felt like an interloper.

And I didn’t see the duke.

“Anyone you know?” I asked Phyllida. My heart was beating out You’re a fraud. You’re a fraud. You’re a fraud.

“Not a soul,” she whispered back.

A moment later, a masculine voice behind me said, “We haven’t been properly introduced, but I can have our hostess remedy that when she finishes with her duties in the front hall if you’d prefer.”

I turned around and found myself staring into the blue eyes of a man who appeared too young to have that much gray hair. Could this be Sir Henry Stanford? “Your presence here is introduction enough. I’m Mrs. Georgina Monthalf, and this is my late husband’s cousin, Lady Phyllida Monthalf,” I said with a small curtsy. Lady Phyllida inclined her head with an aristocratic nod that had to have been learned in her girlhood. I wondered if she could teach me how to move so I appeared to own the universe.

“Sir Henry Stanford, at your service.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Sir Henry. Have you lived in London long?”

“All my adult life. And you, Mrs. Monthalf?”

“Oh, no. Never. I lived in the Far East with my husband, and after his death I sold out and moved here.”

“Your husband was in trade?” Sir Henry asked. Phyllida was being ignored in this exchange, but she seemed perfectly happy to be on the fringe.

“Yes. I understand that it isn’t to be spoken of in this society, but he didn’t inherit a title and a man must have an occupation. Don’t you agree, Sir Henry?” I knew the answer; I wanted to hear what Sir Henry would tell me.

“I agree. I myself have invested time and money in shipyards. An important field in an island nation.”

“And important for anyone engaged in trade. Or traveling. I just arrived from Singapore. A very, very long ocean voyage. I wonder if I was on one of your ships.” I tried to put an expression on my face that signified interest.

“I’m afraid I’m only involved in building warships and freighters.” His eyes didn’t scan the room, so I seemed to be holding his attention.

Just how much attention was pointed out a moment later when Sir Henry said, “We won’t have much time to talk tonight. May I call on you ladies later?” He bowed to Phyllida but I knew his intentions were aimed at me.

“Of course.” I gave him our address.

Around us, the buzz of conversation grew louder and the room grew stuffy with too many bodies enclosed in a small space in the heat.

Over my shoulder, I heard, “Georgina Monthalf? It’s been a few years, but I never forget a beautiful face.”

I schooled my face to look surprised. I recognized the voice, and I knew it was time to begin the flirtation that was to be my cover. What I really wanted was to ask the Duke of Blackford why he was always late.

Putting on a confused expression, I said, “Have we met before, sir?”

“We have indeed, Miss Georgina. Ranleigh? Remember now?”

“My goodness, yes. It’s been a lifetime, Mr. Ranleigh. How are you? Are you residing in England now?”

He put on a falsely deprecating smile. “I’ve become the Duke of Blackford.”

“Oh! Your Grace.” I gave him a deep curtsy.

“I’m afraid so,” he murmured.

“My condolences on the death of your father.” We were attracting an audience of aristocrats who realized there was a new subject to gossip about. I hoped I could keep up the pretense.

“Thank you. He died not long after you left. Is Monthalf here tonight?”

“No. I’m afraid I lost him last year.” I needed a reason not to be in mourning.

“My condolences. Monthalf was the luckiest of men.”

I inclined my head regally at the compliment and said, “Have you married, Your Grace? Is the favored woman here tonight?”

“I’m still a bachelor, pining over the one who got away.”

I raised my eyebrows. The duke was going overboard, and I was sure our audience would recognize his insincerity.

“Too much?” he asked.

“As flattery, or as fact?” I replied.

“Either.”

“Both.” I heard a few feminine chuckles around us.

“How long have you been in London?” The duke moved his body slightly to block Sir Henry from slipping closer to my side.

“I just arrived. Lady Phyllida, this is an old friend from India, Mr. Ranleigh, now the Duke of Blackford. Your Grace, this is Lady Phyllida Monthalf, my late husband’s cousin. Lady Phyllida has been kind enough to take me under her wing to introduce me around London. And do you know Sir Henry Stanford?”

“Yes,” both men growled in unison.

“Ladies, why don’t we take a seat? The musicians are tuning up.” Blackford tucked my arm in his.

I swung around ungracefully to face the shipbuilder. “Sir Henry, I’m very glad to make your acquaintance. I hope we meet again soon.”

“So do I, Mrs. Monthalf.” He bowed to me and then shot a look at Blackford’s back that should have drawn blood. Nearby, I noticed two old biddies, dripping with lace and jewels, whispering as they looked in our direction.

The duke escorted us to a small, delicate sofa and then sat on a sturdy chair on my side of the sofa. “You look delectable.” I must have appeared surprised, because before I could revel in his words he added, “You could attempt to look enamored of whatever I’m saying.”

“Where’s Baron von Steubfeld?” I whispered and smiled up at him before scanning the room. Every seat was taken and latecomers were squeezing in wherever they could. With all these bodies, the room was becoming sweltering despite the relief of a small breeze.

“Directly across the room from us. In the fancy Prussian uniform. Fair haired, sitting very straight, talking to the woman on our side of him.”

I could see his face clearly as he talked to the gray-haired woman in mourning next to him. It was a lean, cruel face, thin lipped, sharply beaked, with a wide mustache like his kaiser’s.

Past him, I saw Sir Jonah Denby coming in the doorway. “There’s your friend.”

The duke looked in the direction I indicated. “Who?”

“Sir Jonah Denby.”

“Who?”

“Sir Jonah Denby. Works in Whitehall. You told him I was involved in—this.” No one seemed to be listening in, but I wanted to be cautious.

Blackford leaned over and murmured in my ear, “I don’t know anyone by that name, and I’d never tell anyone about your role.”

I swallowed, my nerves making my hands tremble. “Who is he?” When I looked around again, Sir Jonah had vanished.

Blackford shook his head slightly. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

“He knows who I really am. He could ruin everything,” I whispered in his ear.

He moved his head to nuzzle my cheek. “We won’t let him.” Then a man slid past us and Blackford shifted away from me.

I looked around the room, trying to spot Sir Jonah. Here was a danger we hadn’t planned on; someone who knew the duke, someone who knew me by my real name, and someone we knew nothing about. He could ruin our plan. He could be the man who’d hired the thief.

I studied the baron, wondering if he was truly behind this plot. At that moment, he looked past the woman he was talking to and directly at me. I was shocked for a second at being caught staring, but then I remembered my role and smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. He glared for an instant before he nodded in response and then turned to the lady on his other side.

I glanced up at the duke and he gave me a reassuring smile. “We’re in this together,” he murmured.

That night I saw the baron’s glare in my dreams just before I heard Blackford tell me we were together.

*   *   *

EMMA AND I rose earlier than usual the next morning to eat, dress, and travel to the bookshop to begin our usual day. I immediately checked the cash box and the ledger from the previous afternoon while Emma dusted and straightened a few shelves. Within minutes, both Frances Atterby and Grace Yates came in and set to work.

Grace, one of our younger Archivist Society members, began dusting shelves with Emma while Frances talked to the day’s first customer. I glanced over to see the middle-aged woman selecting the English Illustrated Magazine and the Illustrated London News. Apparently she was a fan of short stories and serialized novels, and I was happy to see her spend her money with us.

I joined Grace and said, “What are you doing here? You have a full-time job as secretary and librarian to Lord Barnwood.”

“With this heat, he’s closed up his London home for a few weeks. Gone fishing in Scotland ’til the heat ends. I told him I needed to stay in London, so I have some time off. I just need to check at the house once or twice a day for messages and to take care of any correspondence.”

“I’m sure Frances is glad of the help.”

“She is. And we can call Sir Broderick anytime we need reinforcements.” She reached out and patted my arm. “Relax, Georgia. Everything is fine.”

I covered a wide yawn. “Thank you, Grace, for the help.”

She smiled at me. “What are you doing here? You have an investigation to conduct. Aren’t you worried someone will come in here and see you?”

“Not in the morning. I’ve learned aristocrats don’t show their faces before luncheon, and that’s held at a late hour.”

“Because they’re sleeping all morning, as you should be.”

In answer, I yawned again. “I returned late last night, but I’m sure most evenings will be much quieter. Now, on this investigation. Could you please have Sir Broderick learn anything he can about a Sir Jonah Denby?”

Despite my absence on the previous afternoon, the bookshop had run smoothly. None of our customers remarked on my disappearance. Maybe I shouldn’t have worried so much.

I looked over to see Charles Dickens, a brown-striped cat with a notch in one ear from a fight, stroll through our open doorway and hop up in the front window. After rearranging the stock on display to suit him, he curled up on the ledge and went to sleep. He must have temporarily run out of mice on our block to murder.

A few minutes later, while waiting on a woman interested in the newest novels, I spotted Emma picking up Dickens and holding him against her shoulder. The cat never let me do that. But then, Dickens had a stare that reminded me of Blackford’s. They were both first-class hunters.