The Counterfeit Lady (18 page)

“Yes. It wasn’t easy, but I caught up to him here, in Cheltenham Spa. I offered him a great deal of money, I begged, but none of it did any good. He said he’d made a deal and if he wanted to live, he’d carry it out. And he said he had the blueprints hidden well.”

I tried to put awe in my voice. “That was very brave of you, meeting Clara’s killer.”

“I had no choice. Lady Peters won’t return my letter without the blueprints. Since I can’t buy them or steal them, I need you to retrieve my letter.”

“Did he say who this dangerous man is who hired him?”

He made a face and dropped his hold on my arms. “No. It doesn’t matter. What matters is for you to go upstairs now while the ladies are still gone and get my letter.”

“Why did you think Ken Gattenger would burn his warship design and kill Clara? You knew them. Ken told me his ship will sail and perform as expected. He’s never been wrong before. Why didn’t you trust him this time?”

“I overheard one of the clerks in the records room talking to another man. Those clerks know all about the mathematics of ship design. He found the design so flawed he was surprised the ship would float. That’s when I asked Gattenger.”

“The day the ship blueprints were stolen and Clara was killed?”

He nodded.

The clerk could be the one on the German payroll that Jacob was trying to identify. In that case, the conversation could have been set up to start questions specifically to get Gattenger to take a set of the blueprints home with him.

“Ken said you threatened him with ruin over a flaw in the design.” Threatening someone with ruin seemed to be Sir Henry’s usual method of operation.

“Gattenger is a genius, but since he married Clara, it’s been hard to get him to focus. He looked panicked when I asked him. Why would he panic if there wasn’t a problem? I decided I needed to force him to give me a straight answer as quickly as possible. The bids are due, and I couldn’t risk spending money on something that wouldn’t work.”

One thing stood out in my mind. “Your shipyard is in trouble financially?”

“My shipyard has nothing to do with this. We all need to know how seaworthy this warship is for the good of Britain.”

I pressed on the point I wanted him to admit. “Your shipyard is in jeopardy.”

“Not in jeopardy,” he hissed out between his teeth.

“On the edge of bankruptcy?”

“No. Not on the edge. Not really. The improvements I’ve made to the efficiency of the yard just haven’t paid off yet. It’s been touch-and-go. If I build his ship, I’ll do it faster and better than anyone, but it has to work. If it sinks, my boatyard sinks with it.”

His financial troubles gave him a strong motive to make Gattenger recalculate his equations rather than steal the plans.

Before I could ask another question, he had my arm and was walking me toward the door. “Get up there and get the letter.”

“All right. You wait down here. Her maid may be up there and we don’t want her to get suspicious. Why does Lady Peters want warship blueprints?”

“She wouldn’t tell me.”

I stopped him before he opened the door. “One more thing. How often did Lady Bennett call on Clara? Were they friends?”

“No. Never. Clara didn’t like her. Lark Bennett stole Ken Gattenger away from her once.”

I’d heard about Lady Bennett’s romance with Gattenger. But Sir Henry was right. Clara was unlikely to have gone calling with the woman who’d ended her engagement at one time. “They went out together in Lady Bennett’s carriage for an hour or two the day Clara died.”

He paused, his hand on the door handle. “You’re certain of this?”

“Yes.” What did he know?

“I saw Lady Bennett’s carriage at Lady Peters’s that day. I had thought to call on that lady, to ask for my letter back, but when I saw Lady Bennett’s carriage waiting, I decided not to go in.”

*   *   *

I FOUND EMMA
in Phyllida’s room. “I need your help.”

She scowled and hurried over to me. “What’s happened?”

I gave her a brief explanation and then asked, “Do you know Lady Peters’s maid?”

“Minette? Yes.”

“Could you find her and keep her out of Lady Peters’s room for a little while?”

“Yes. Wait here while I check Lady Peters’s room. If she’s there, I’ll get her out and then you can go in.”

Emma left and a minute or two later, I heard her voice through the crack in the door. A woman’s voice with a French accent answered. I listened until their footsteps faded away, and then I slipped down the hall. No one was around, but I knocked on the door once before I entered the room.

Rosamond Peters’s room was a model of tidiness. I quickly glanced in the drawers and wardrobe. Everything was so neat I could search her things in an instant and not ruffle anything. My search of the bed was equally unsuccessful. Nothing was tucked into the few books she’d brought with her. I pulled up the corners of the rug. Nothing.

The only place left was the lady’s desk. There was a small stack of good notepaper, a pot of ink, and a couple of pens. The drawer was empty. Lacking any other spot, I looked in the notepaper. A few sheets down I found Sir Henry’s letter.

I skimmed the contents. Sir Henry was a fool to commit both subjects to writing in a single document. I folded the letter and slipped from the room into the empty hall.

I’d barely shut the door behind me when I heard Emma’s voice coming from somewhere nearby. Hearing the chatter she was infecting the air with, I was certain she was trying to warn me to get out. I crushed the letter into my palm and stopped to look around.

Emma and a dark-haired girl in a black dress came out from the servants’ stairs.

“Ah, there you are,” I said as if Emma had been playing truant. “Would you please tell the Duke of Blackford I’d like to see him right away? I’ll be in my room.”

“Yes, milady.” Emma glanced at Lady Peters’s maid and rolled her eyes. Then she headed downstairs and I went to my room, leaving Minette in the hall looking confused.

A few minutes later there was a tap on my door. Thinking it was Blackford or Emma, I stood by the window, soaking in the cool breeze, and said, “Come.”

Sir Henry strode in. “Where is it?”

I stared straight at him, trying not to give away by a glance that I’d hidden the letter in my pillowcase. “I couldn’t find it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. It’s not in her room. Do you have any other ideas where she could have hidden it?”

He grabbed my wrist. “No, but you’d better. I can’t get my hands on the blueprints, and if she ruins me, I won’t hesitate to let everyone in on your attempted thievery, your husband’s dishonesty, and your lack of funds.”

I tried to wiggle away but failed. His grip would leave a bruise as bad as the one he’d left on my shoulder. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you agree to do as I say.”

I struggled, not wanting to scream and have Sir Henry ruin my false identity before we recovered the blueprints. “I’m trying to.”

“Trying isn’t good enough. Get me that letter, or I swear I’ll destroy you.”

"Y
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need to consider your words before you threaten this lady again,” came from behind Sir Henry as Blackford strode into the room.

Sir Henry dropped my arm.

“Your Grace,” I said, curtsying with relief that I was no longer alone with my blackmailer. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know this scoundrel needs to leave immediately if he values his life.”

“Stay out of this, Blackford. She’s not your sister,” Sir Henry said.

“She’s a woman I care about. Leave her alone.”

“Mrs. Monthalf isn’t under your protection or control. You don’t get to order her around like you did Lady Margaret.”

Blackford’s expression grew steely.

“He blocked practically all of Lady Margaret’s suitors as not being worthy of a duke’s sister. Now he’s trying to have the same control over your life. Beware, Mrs. Monthalf,” Sir Henry said, turning his back on Blackford.

“You’d better leave, Sir Henry.” I tried to put a note of regret in my voice, but I really couldn’t wait for him to go.

He gave me the stiffest of bows and stormed out of the room, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

“I have something for you.” I took the letter out of my pillowcase and handed it to Blackford.

He read it quickly, then looked it over again more slowly. “How did you get this?”

“Sir Henry wanted the letter back from Lady Peters, who obtained it from Lord Hastings. He says her price to return it is the stolen ship blueprints.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Neither do I. Why would she want ship blueprints?”

The duke gave me a thunderous look. “Why were you searching her room for him?”

I gave him a smile, but his expression made the corners of my mouth droop. “You know why. Sir Henry has me doing his dirty work because he learned Georgina Monthalf is broke and he can ruin her.”

“I’ll take control of this,” he said, putting the letter in the pocket of his dark brown vest. “Play him along, but don’t get caught alone with him.”

“Gladly.”

“Now, Georgina, would you like to sit in the garden with me?”

I put on my straw boater before I gave him my arm. As we walked slowly downstairs, I couldn’t get over the change in his dress. He looked relaxed in his beige lounge suit, even though his collar was still stiff and of course he wore a necktie, which matched his vest. Perhaps it was like me being relaxed in my work clothes, although I still wore a corset.

I was beaming at our spending time together without searching anything or questioning anyone. I gave his arm a squeeze. He gave me a contented smile.

He put on a brimmed hat of soft felt as we stepped outside and then angled the hat to give him a rakish air.

I blinked at this change in the duke. “You look so different.”

“We’re in the country,” was his explanation. “There’s a bench over there in the shade. Can you walk that far on your ankle?”

“If I can’t, you can carry me.” I gave him a grin.

Wonder of wonders, he laughed. A deep, booming laugh.

We sat down on the dust-free bench. Apparently the staff cleaned the outdoor furniture daily. “We need to hold hands to keep up appearances,” Blackford said.

I gave him my hand. “Gladly.”

“You should wear that color more often. It makes your eyes a brilliant violet.” Reddening, he turned to face the immaculately trimmed garden. “It would be nice if all of life were like this, but then I guess we wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Thank you for arranging this trip.”

“Finally forgiven me for taking you away from—” He stopped as we heard footsteps coming toward us.

Looking over our shoulders, we saw one of the footmen approaching. “Your Grace,” he said with a bow, “Lord Harwin would like a word with you.”

“Of course. If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Monthalf?”

I nodded to him, and he was off. The sun went behind a cloud as he left.

The garden was lovely, but I didn’t see it as I sat enjoying the shade and wondering why Lady Peters wanted ship plans and why Lady Bennett took Clara to see her shortly before Clara’s death.

“May I join you?” a German-accented growl asked.

“Please, Baron von Steubfeld. Isn’t the garden lovely?”

“Yes, it is.”

He sat and we studied the garden in silence for a minute before the baron said, “Perhaps you and Lady Monthalf and the Duke of Blackford can visit my country this fall. I think you would find it most enjoyable.”

“I’m sure we would. I think Lady Monthalf and I could agree to travel then, but I can’t speak for the duke.”

“Can’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sure I can’t.”

I could have sworn his mustache twitched before he said, “I’ve been watching you. Your friendship with the duke seems to be all business.”

I started to rise. “I beg your pardon.”

“No, no. I meant no disrespect to a lady,” he hurried to assure me. “Your friendship is like a partnership, all quick meetings before and after you question people. It doesn’t seem to allow much time for romance.”

The baron had apparently been watching me as I watched him, and his interest made me uneasy. “I’m not related to the peerage. While I would love a deeper friendship with Blackford, he has to marry someone more in line with his station.”

“Ah, the English. So concerned about their petty titles.”

“And the Germans aren’t?”

“We admire and reward—what is the word I want?—spunk. That’s it. Spunk. And you are a young lady of spunk. If the duke were German, I’m sure he would marry you.”

“But he’s not.”

“No. But you must think of your future. Come to Germany and see if anything or anyone there attracts you. Or if you, as a widow, can find ways to strengthen your bank account for the years ahead.”

“Even if something appealed to me, I’m English, not German.”

“These are labels only. Think about it. Travel can open your mind to all sorts of possibilities.” He rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure the embassy has not fallen apart in my absence.”

We nodded to each other, and as he walked off, I was left wondering if he’d invited me as a diplomat to travel in his country or begun to recruit me as a spy. Or, good heavens, did he proposition me?

The air was so pleasant, smelling of flowers and fresh breezes, that I lingered on the bench. I was shocked to see the figure of the man I’d known as Sir Jonah Denby quickly coming around a tree, heading in my direction. “How does the investigation go?” he asked.

“Who are you?”

“Sir Jonah Denby, at your service,” he replied with a bow. “Surely you remember me.”

“I do indeed, but I’ve learned you’re not Denby. Who are you, and why do you care about stolen blueprints?”

He stared at me for a moment, and then the bluster in his tone evaporated. “May I please sit?”

I nodded and he dropped onto the bench. Sweat trickled down his weathered cheeks.

“I’m Lord Porthollow, one of the three bidders to build Gattenger’s ship. Sir Henry seems to be in a state over the theft, and I wanted to find out why.”

I saw his motive in a heartbeat. “You’re hoping he stole the design and will be caught and eliminated as competition in the bidding.”

He nodded. “I’m sure my bid can beat old Fogburn, but Sir Henry is sneaky. I wanted to keep an eye on him, find out what he’s up to, and who better to do that than you.”

I couldn’t risk him giving away my true identity. “First off, you need to know I’m not here as myself.”

“Ho, ho. So I’m not the only one with a nom de guerre.” He tapped his cane twice on the ground.

“I’m Mrs. Monthalf for this investigation. Don’t mess it up for me. Or are you the one who sent me threatening letters?”

“Why would I do that? I need to find out what you’ve learned. Did Sir Henry steal the blueprints?”

“We don’t know. Personally, I favor someone else as the brains behind this.”

“Is it a dastardly plan?”

I thought about what I’d learned. “Yes.”

“That’s Sir Henry all over. Tricked me out of deals a time or two.”

I shook my head. “You seem able to hold your own against Sir Henry. You fooled me. How did you find out I was involved?”

“Inspector Grantham. When he came to see me, he let slip about the Archivist Society involvement. I asked around until I found someone who’d met you on a previous investigation.”

We were hired by word of mouth. It would make sense that we’d be discovered that way. “Thank you for your honesty, Lord Porthollow.”

He rose from the bench. “Thank you, Mrs. Monthalf. I’ll see you at the ball tonight.”

“Where are you staying?”

“At the Teweses’. Attended Oxford with him. This visit would be a pleasure without one of his guests. Name’s Lady Ormond. What a tartar. Avoid her.”

He strolled away, presumably back to the nearby estate, while I was once again amazed at how aristocrats all knew each other.

*   *   *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON,
I still hadn’t seen Blackford again. I was resting my foot while reading in Lord Harwin’s library and enjoying a cup of tea. At the sound of voices, I went out to greet Phyllida and the group who’d gone to see the local sights.

They all exclaimed over my recovery and then headed in different directions. I followed Lady Bennett down a hall and saw her enter a doorway. Moving quickly without jarring my foot, I opened the door to find myself in the blue parlor. The dark blue draperies were pulled to block out the sunlight, leaving the blue-patterned rug, blue-upholstered furniture, and light-blue-papered walls in shadow.

If she hadn’t moved, I never would have seen Lady Bennett, since, dressed in a blue gown and hat, she faded into the corner. “What do you want?” she snapped.

I approached until I was within a foot of her. Her eyes were red rimmed. I tried a caring approach. “I saw you were upset. What’s wrong?”

“As if you didn’t know.”

Her snooty tone wiped away any compassion I might have had for her. “Does it have anything to do with Clara Gattenger’s death?”

“Her again? Why should I care about her?”

“You came to her house, spirited her away, and brought her home again only a few hours before she was murdered. When she returned, she demanded a fire in her study on the hottest day of a very hot summer. The only reason would have been to burn something.”

“So?” She yanked off her gloves, one finger at a time.

“Whatever she burned, she received from you. What was it, Lady Bennett? Or should I call you Lark?”

“I hate that name.”

“What did she burn, Lark?”

“It had nothing to do with me.”

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

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

“Too late. What are you involved in?”

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

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

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

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

“Her husband?” I was completely confused.

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

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

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

“Dear heavens. How did you find out?”

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

“And the fire in the Gattenger study?”

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

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

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

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