The Counterfeit Lady (14 page)

“We know all the Russian and Austrian spies, although a large contingent of Russians with their servants just arrived in London for the announcement of an engagement between a member of the imperial Russian court and a member of the queen’s extended family. There could be a new spy in that group.

“Unfortunately, the French and Spanish are more subtle. We don’t know who their spies are or who might be carrying their messages back to their countries. And we have very little manpower to keep tabs on the foreign agents we know about, much less the ones we don’t know.” Lord Fleetwhite eyed me cautiously. “That of course goes no further.”

Great. They didn’t know the identity of everyone chasing the blueprints. I nodded my agreement. “Have the police found Mick Snelling yet?”

“No. He’s gone to ground. He knows we’re looking for him,” Mr. Nobles said.

“‘We’?” I asked.

He blushed as he realized he’d slipped up. “I’m the Scotland Yard liaison to Whitehall, playing the role of an idle young man for this mission.”

“We know the design will work. So now all we can do is wait,” Mr. Goschen said. “And I don’t like waiting.”

“Are you speaking as First Lord of the Admiralty or a businessman?” Blackford asked.

Goschen gave a dry smile. “Both. We can’t afford to have these drawings fall into foreign hands both for the safety of the country and for the good of our business interests.”

“Kenneth Gattenger can’t afford for us to fail to catch his wife’s killer. He’s facing a hangman’s noose,” I reminded them.

“You’re Mrs. Gattenger’s kin. Why are you so concerned for her husband?” Lord Fleetwhite asked.

That wasn’t true, and they knew about my connection to the Archivist Society. What had Blackford told them about me? “I want the right man to hang for Clara’s death. That man isn’t her husband.”

It wasn’t until the roast course, leg of lamb with carrots and spinach, had been brought in and the servants had removed themselves, along with the nasty-looking pigeon dishes, that Lord Fleetwhite spoke again. “How do we know Gattenger wasn’t a party to the theft? We have the letter passed between the Germans and him. He was seen talking to a German agent two evenings before the theft. He needed the money. Snelling might have been there by appointment.”

“We know Snelling wasn’t there by invitation because Clara was killed. Ken Gattenger would never have allowed that.” My fork and the carrot on it went back on my plate.

“An accident during a falling-out of thieves.”

I stared down the table at Lord Fleetwhite. “I asked Gattenger about the letter.”

“You did what?” Fleetwhite raised his voice. Looking around the room, he lowered it to a conversational pitch. “He’s not supposed to know we have it.”

“Well, he does. And he admits he received it and gave them an equivocal answer. He needed the money for his wife and unborn child and so he considered selling the design to the Germans. Clara miscarried, and his reason for taking the money was gone. When he told them no, the Germans threatened him.”

“Which Germans?”

“It was dark. He couldn’t see the man’s face.”

“How convenient.” Fleetwhite’s mouth closed in a thin line.

“He tried to stop a thief from taking the ship’s plans.”

“After he’d agreed to sell them to a foreign power. He may have planned for the burglar to come into the study. As far as I’m concerned, he’s guilty of treason and at least partially responsible for his wife’s death. He can rot in jail until we get those blueprints back, and then he can have his trial.” Fleetwhite tossed his serviette on the table.

Goschen nodded, as did Darby and Nobles.

I shifted forward in my chair, ready to disagree, when Blackford laid a hand over mine. I looked up into his dark eyes to see him give a small shake of his head.

“We’ll need some police presence outside Lord Harwin’s estate this weekend to capture Snelling with the plans,” the duke told them.

“Nobles and I will both be there to help, but the police are already stretched thin watching the Germans in London and now the newly arrived Russians for this engagement party. There are rumors of anarchist activity. We’ll have to use whatever forces the local constabulary can provide,” Sir William said.

“I’ll see how many Archivist Society members can get away from London for the next few days,” I offered.

“Let me know and I’ll make arrangements for their lodging and travel,” Blackford said. I’m sure his smile was meant to be encouraging.

I returned the smile, feeling anything but reassured. “By the way, why isn’t Sir Jonah Denby here?”

“Old Denby?” Sir William asked. “Why would he be here?”

“He’s approached me a couple of times asking what we’ve learned so far.”

“Why would he be interested? Denby works in the ceremonial office, coordinating events with the palace,” Lord Fleetwhite said.

“You might ask him. He’s been to see me. I didn’t look for him.”

“Have you ever met him before?” Sir William asked.

“No.” The room became very quiet. I looked at their faces staring back at me.

“We’ll talk to Denby tomorrow. In the meantime, don’t tell him anything else. Just in case,” Lord Fleetwhite said.

“Just in case?”

“Just in case he’s another spy on the hunt for those drawings,” Blackford said.

Dinner went on for another three courses, but I didn’t learn anything new. I ate and drank sparingly but still felt sick from worry and weak from fatigue when we were released from the table. With the tepid thanks of three governmental departments, Blackford and I walked into the dark, warm night. I wanted to curl up on the hard carriage bench and go right to sleep, but Blackford had his plan to carry out.

“I think two hours will be sufficient for our tryst,” he said.

I gave him the big yawn I’d been fighting throughout dinner.

He gracefully crossed the carriage to join me on my seat. Putting an arm around me, he said, “You have to learn to look at me with love in your eyes if we’re going to carry this off at Lord Harwin’s.”

He tickled my ear and ran a finger down my neck, until another huge yawn got in his way.

“Oh, Georgia,” he said, pulling me against his soft jacket and kissing the top of my head.

It was dark in the carriage and I was comfortable and safe nestled in Blackford’s embrace. My eyes refused to stay open. He said something, but I couldn’t make any sense of it. He jostled me, but my eyes stayed shut and my mind refused to work.

I
awoke to light streaming into my room. Vague memories of riding in the duke’s carriage to carry out a tryst sprang to mind as I leaped up in bed.

“Good. You’re awake,” Emma said.

“How did I get here?” I asked.

“The Duke of Blackford carried you in from his coach. It seems he couldn’t wake you. He laid you down and wished us a good night.”

“Blast.”

“Apparently you destroyed your chance to begin your affair with him last night. He was put out that you’re ruining his reason to have us invited to the Harwin estate.”

“I’ll just have to flirt harder today.”

“I think it’s going to take more than that.” As she handed me a dressing gown, Emma added, “Were you going to, eh, er . . .”

“I will not be any man’s mistress. Especially not a duke who will soon be looking for a duchess and getting rid of any inconvenient mistresses.” The idea of Blackford tossing me aside was a physical ache in my chest. I enjoyed his company too much to dare complicate our friendship.

She put up her hands, palms out. “I’m sorry. Get cleaned up. It’s almost time to go.”

Was she sorry because I’d failed that night, or because Blackford would soon lose interest in me when the investigation ended?

“I need to send a message to Sir Broderick. Anyone available from the Archivist Society for the next few days must travel out there to encircle Lord Harwin’s gardens. The police don’t have enough manpower to watch for Snelling and those ship plans. I don’t think Whitehall and the Admiralty believe Gattenger is innocent in the theft and the murder. We’ll be practically on our own.”

I wrote a note during breakfast and included Blackford’s offer to arrange for lodging and transport. Emma gave Mary directions and sent her off to Sir Broderick’s, certain she was plucky enough to find her way and honest enough not to read the note.

I’d rarely traveled by train, since I seldom left London. I couldn’t guess how the Duke of Blackford would turn this unusual event into a surprise, but he’d promised Phyllida to do so.

Phyllida, Emma, and I traveled to Paddington Station with our luggage piled on the roof and back of a carriage. When we descended into the swirling mass of porters, passengers, and news boys, Phyllida took a step backward. She collided with our cabbie, who fell forward, shoving the trunk he held into a porter who was unloading more luggage. Then she swung around to apologize and stepped on the foot of an office worker racing past. I took her by the arm and led her to a quiet spot along the wall while Emma saw to the unloading.

“Is it always like this?” she whispered into my ear.

“Yes. Remember, you traveled away from London for long periods after—” I didn’t need to say anything else to the timid woman to remind her of our story covering the years she’d lived with me. And I didn’t want to mention her murderous brother and his capture ten years before.

Another carriage pulled up behind ours, and Baron von Steubfeld and Lady Bennett alighted. While a German valet and an English lady’s maid saw to the luggage, they walked over to join us. I noticed the valet was a tall, beefy man. I wondered if he could have been the one who’d threatened Gattenger.

After we went through our round of curtsies and bows, Phyllida said, “I always have to stand to the side. Otherwise, large men in a hurry knock me over.”

“The Englishman has no sense of order,” the baron replied. After Lady Bennett’s elbow discreetly hit his ribs, he added, “I hope you’ve not been injured.”

“Not today,” Phyllida replied. “Mrs. Monthalf takes good care of me.”

Blackford appeared at my side. More curtsying and bowing. Then he said, “You’re all here. Good. If you’ll follow me?”

He led us at an angle through the vast station. Past family groups escaping the heat of the city with their entire households bunched together blocking the way. Past commuters hurrying into the furnace that was London from the slightly cooler suburbs. Past tiny shops selling papers, books, tea, and meat pies. My ears ached from the sound of so many rushing footsteps, shouting voices, and the clanging metal of carts. I tried not to choke on the pungent, smoky air.

Finally, the duke led our parade of passengers and luggage through a door to a landing with a long train parked alongside. A railway official directed the porters and the maids and the baron’s valet farther along the platform. Emma gave me a nod as she passed. From where the duke stopped, we would enter the last car. Unlike a regular first-class carriage, with its row of doors along the side, this car had only one.

The duke gave me his hand, and I stepped up and inside. For an instant I froze, staring at the elegant parlor surrounding me. So this was the Duke of Northumberland’s saloon car. Then I remembered the people behind me and walked across the room to where Sir Henry Stanford and Lady Peters stood to greet us.

More curtsies and bows. I didn’t curtsy in my shop all day as much as I had that morning. “Isn’t this lovely?” Rosamond Peters said. “It was clever of the duke to borrow this carriage from his friend.”

I looked around me at the elegant furnishings. “I had no idea such rail carriages existed.”

Sir Henry said, “The Duke of Northumberland owns several railroads. He uses this car when he’s inspecting his lines, but at the moment he’s shooting in Scotland. I believe this rail coach is unique.”

I gave them both a smile. “Well, I’m certainly glad Northumberland lent the carriage to the duke. This will make travel so much more pleasant.”

After Phyllida greeted the couple, I settled her in a sturdy-looking upholstered chair facing in the direction we’d be moving. I hoped the view out the window next to her would distract her because she was already turning pale. I took the other seat of the pair, planning to sit with her while we began our journey and then leave to question our fellow passengers. When she clutched my hand, I gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re certain this is necessary, Georgia?”

I frowned at the use of my real name. “You’ll be fine.”

Blackford must have seen the exchange, because he came over and knelt in front of Phyllida. “Should you feel unwell, there’s a room with a basin and towels right behind you.”

“Thank you, but with the movement of the carriage, I’m not certain I’ll be able to walk.”

“Then Mrs. Monthalf and I will assist you.” Quieter, so only Phyllida and I could hear, he added, “We need your help, Phyllida. Remember Clara.”

She lifted her chin and gave him a lovely smile. “I’ll be fine.” Glancing around the rail carriage, she said, “This is a tremendous surprise, Duke. Thank you.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you for helping us, Lady Monthalf.”

“Your Grace, has Stevens heard from Snelling?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “It was a good idea, but he was apparently more distrustful than greedy.”

“At least we know the ship won’t sink.”

“I spoke to the Admiralty official who took Gattenger another set of blueprints to redo his calculations. He said it appears to be everything he’d hoped. An engineering marvel.”

If the ship was an engineering marvel, then the ship’s plans were worth all our efforts to reclaim them. I gave Blackford a relieved smile. Actually, every time I looked at him I wanted to smile.

We kept up a steady conversation to divert Phyllida. Once we had jerked into motion and crept out of the station, Blackford left us. I walked over to where Sir Henry stood alone by a window. “Not much of a traveler, is she?” he asked.

“Lady Phyllida finds the movement of the train upsetting.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Only until she gets to her destination. Then she’s ready to have a grand time.”

“I heard you saved her from a robber yesterday.” When I replied with a dismissive gesture, he said, “Don’t be so modest. What happened?”

“Phyllida bought a new hat. It looks stunning on her. Some young thug grabbed it and ran. I ran after him, which was good because he immediately ran down a dead-end alley. A bobby came and took him away.” Well, that was what happened, more or less.

“That was very brave of you.”

“Or very stupid. I suspect the latter.”

“Remind me not to carry out any crimes around you.” He gave me a wide smile.

“Blackmail is a crime. And I suppose you’ll force me to do illegal things to keep my secret secure.” I returned a rigid smile showing teeth.

“Going through a gentleman’s desk is considered a crime by the people we’ll be visiting in Gloucestershire. Being penniless and untitled is another crime to this group. Remember, one word from me and you’ll be snubbed by everyone, including the duke. You’d probably be thrown out of the house and sent back to London.”

I couldn’t carry out my investigation if I were sent back to London in disgrace, but he definitely didn’t sound like my anonymous letter writer.

Wonderful. That meant two people in this investigation had figured out I was trying to deceive them. And I didn’t know the identity of one of them.

“Besides,” he added, “what I’ll have you do will be easy enough for your tender sensibilities.”

His scornful tone on “tender sensibilities” told me he didn’t see me as a lady. I was only middle-class, but I was still insulted. “Did you put in motion the events that led to Mrs. Gattenger’s death?”

The smile crumbled from his face, replaced by anger blazing from his eyes. “I’m deeply sorry about Mrs. Gattenger. She was your cousin, wasn’t she? But Ken Gattenger lost his nerve when I asked him about the blueprints and said I’d go to the Admiralty Board.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Gattenger had doubts. He panicked and, in a fit of anger or cowardice, threw the plans in the fire. Probably planned to claim a burglar took them. Buy himself more time to correct his calculations while the hunt was on for his mythical burglar. Clara saw what he was doing and tried to stop him. What came next was a terrible accident.”

I raised my eyebrows. “‘Clara’?”

Sir Henry lowered his voice. “We were friends for many years. Clara was the kindest, brightest lady of my acquaintance. A true beauty. Her death is a great loss.”

The expression on his face told me everything I needed to know. “You were in love with her.”

He took a step away from me. “I admired her. She was married. There’s nothing else to say.” Sir Henry stomped to the other side of the railroad carriage.

She’d only been married for the past year. What had happened between Clara and Sir Henry in the many years before her wedding?

I walked over to where the baron was pouring himself a cup of coffee into a delicate china cup from a silver urn. “Ah, Mrs. Monthalf. I see you’ve suffered no adverse effects from stopping a robbery.”

“None, thank you. My cousin and I appreciated your taking us home in your carriage. That was very kind.”

“Not at all.”

“Have your guests departed?”

“My guests?”

“The Duchess of Bad Ramshed and her daughter.”

He gave one deep chuckle. “They weren’t my guests. Because they’re relatives of the kaiser’s wife, the embassy has a duty to smooth their journey. In the ambassador’s absence, it becomes my responsibility.”

“Does the duchess often need to have her journeys smoothed?”

“Did you meet her?”

“Yes. At Lady Bennett’s.”

He gave a wry smile as his diplomatic reply.

“Lady Bennett seemed to get along well with her.”

“Lady Bennett loves royalty.”

“She must be very useful when you have work to do and guests at the embassy.”

“She is indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” He walked off with his coffee cup, leaving me to wonder how I’d be able to question someone who, as a diplomat, was so practiced at saying nothing.

The rail carriage began to shake and I took the chair next to Phyllida. “I’m sure in a little while the ride will be much smoother.”

“How long is this trip?”

Blackford crouched down facing her, keeping good balance despite the jolts that whipped through the carriage. “Two hours or a little more. Is there anything you require, Lady Phyllida?”

“Distraction.”

He smiled. “Are you familiar with the entire party who’ll be at Harwin’s estate?”

“Besides those in this carriage? No.”

“There’ll be a friend or two of the Harwins’ son from Oxford, one or two young ladies the same age as Harwin’s daughter, who was presented at court this past spring, and I imagine a few others. A bishop and his wife, perhaps, to keep us all on good behavior.”

“It sounds jolly. How close is the Marquis of Tewes’s estate?” Phyllida asked, holding the arms of her chair in a death grip as we rounded a bend in the tracks.

Blackford rested one hand on a chair arm to keep his crouched balance. “I believe the estates are adjoining. Have you been holding out on me, Lady Monthalf? You know more about where we’re going than I do.”

“Lady Ormond mentioned she was going there and that we’d be neighbors.”

“Is this also jolly?” the duke asked.

“Not if you’re visiting the marquis. Lady Ormond is an awful gossip.”

Blackford patted her hand. “Thanks for the warning. Ah, we seem to be running smoothly now. If you’ll excuse me?”