The Counterfeit Lady (6 page)

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.

I
N
the early afternoon, Emma and I took the sweltering omnibus most of the way to our borrowed home and then walked in the glaring sunshine to our doorstep in time for luncheon. As soon as I gobbled down a light meal, Emma had to dress me for afternoon calls.

Before I’d finished dressing, a maid brought up a card from Sir Henry Stanford. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute, and let Lady Monthalf know he’s here. Emma, help me get ready, please.”

As soon as the last pin was in my hair, I rushed downstairs. Phyllida was already in the parlor discussing the weather.

Sir Henry rose to his feet and said, “Mrs. Monthalf. How nice to see you again.”

“And you, Sir Henry. Did you enjoy the musical evening last night?”

“I would have enjoyed it more if you had been sitting with me.”

“I’m sorry. Ranleigh has always been a bit arrogant.” It felt disloyal, but I needed Sir Henry on my side if I were to discover his secrets.

“Unless he’s already claimed tonight, I’d like to take you ladies to dinner and then to the theater. The Lyceum is showing the last Shakespearean play of the season.”

“I’d enjoy that. And you, Phyllida?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Then I’ll pick you up by carriage at a quarter to seven.”

“Are we having dinner at your home, Sir Henry?”

“Yes. I’m throwing a small dinner party and then we’ll go on to the theater.”

“Wonderful.” I’d received a heaven-sent opportunity to search his study during dinner. If the thief had passed the plans to Sir Henry, this might be my best chance of recovering them.

Once Sir Henry left, Phyllida and I were to travel by hired carriage to the homes of several women. We’d drop off our calling cards to announce my arrival, as Georgina Monthalf, widow of Mr. Edgar Monthalf, newly arrived from the colonies. Hopefully, the interest that both the Duke of Blackford and Sir Henry Stanford had shown in Mrs. Monthalf would already be making the rounds of afternoon gossip.

“We’ve been invited to stop by Lady Ormond’s this afternoon,” Phyllida said as she settled herself on the scorching black leather seat in the carriage.

“Was she at the musical evening at Lord Francis’s?” The lowered windows let in more heat than they allowed to escape.

“Yes. She was the most awful gossip thirty-five years ago when she was Lady Mildred Fessent. From the way she was studying you and the duke before she invited us to stop by today, I’d guess she’ll be hunting for more details to pass around London.”

Phyllida gave me the address and I passed it on to the driver. Traffic was slow moving in the heat and it took us five minutes to arrive at the Ormonds’ unremarkable town house in the middle of a block near our new home.

We climbed out of the carriage and walked our calling cards up to the door. A young footman answered, held out a silver tray for us to put our cards on, and had us wait in the hall. He climbed a flight of stairs with the tray to the main parlor. As soon as he was out of sight, Phyllida said, “He’s barely out of the nursery.”

“Perhaps he’s just begun his training,” I suggested, looking around the empty hallway, where old framed silhouettes decorated otherwise bare walls.

“Mildred always fought a battle between having everything perfect and being miserly. At his age, his wages would be minimal. I guess miserly won out.” Phyllida shook her head.

I didn’t get a chance to warn her to keep quiet before the rapid steps on the stairs proclaimed the boy’s arrival. “Her ladyship is this way.”

We followed at a sedate pace and walked into a parlor full of statues. Busts covered every table. A full-sized Greek maiden stood between two windows. A piece of a frieze stood in a corner. After we finished our round of curtsies, I asked, “Are you a collector?”

“Not me. My late husband. He shipped them back from Italy and Greece when he was a young man. Aren’t they lovely?”

“They are,” Phyllida said. “Thank you for inviting us today, Lady Mildred. I’m so happy to have dear Georgina here so I can introduce her to all my friends.”

“It’s lovely for you to have family around you again, after—” Lady Ormond gave a sniff as if something smelled bad.

“And I’m so happy to finally get to see London,” I added with a big smile.

“You weren’t presented at court?” Lady Ormond asked, the beginnings of horror etched on her voice.

“No. I went overseas to join my father before I would have been presented. I married overseas and lived there until my husband died.” Phyllida and I had never completely organized my story, and I was starting to worry.

“What did he die of?” Lady Ormond asked as she handed me a cup of tea.

“A fever.”

“So common in the colonies, I’ve heard.” There was that sniff of distaste again.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“How did you get back in touch again?” Lady Ormond was a born inquisitor.

“Who said we were ever out of touch?” Phyllida asked in a haughty tone I’d seldom heard, reminding both Lady Ormond and myself that she was the daughter of an earl.

Lady Ormond gave her a brief smile and turned her beady-eyed attention on me. “Tell me about the Duke of Blackford when he was in India. It’s a period of time he doesn’t discuss often.”

“Then perhaps I need to honor what appear to be his wishes and not say anything,” I replied with a smile. “Do you live in London year-round, or do you spend part of the year at the Ormond family estate?”

“The current Lord Ormond and I find time spent apart suits us both. As he rarely leaves the countryside, I find the London home quite satisfactory. Have you found living halfway around the world a solution to any troubles you have with whoever inherited your late husband’s estate?”

“I inherited.” I smiled and took a sip of tea.

“One of the perks of marrying a businessman,” Phyllida said with a hint of a smirk. “No entailments.”

Lady Ormond gave a smile as weak as her tea. “Are you planning to spend much time in the Duke of Blackford’s company?”

“That rather depends on the duke, don’t you think?”

“Is he planning a country house party to celebrate your renewed acquaintance?”

Dear heavens, the woman was nosy. Fortunately, there was a ritual about these visits that required us to leave after a short time. Otherwise, I would have struggled not to run screaming out of Lady Ormond’s parlor during this inquisition. I tried a neutral “I have no idea.”

Then, when it was time to leave, Lady Ormond said, “What a shame your cousin Clara didn’t survive to see you arrive in London.”

“You knew my husband’s cousin Clara Gattenger?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as eager as I felt. As a gossip, I couldn’t trust Lady Ormond’s remarks, but there might be a nugget in there.

“Not well. She didn’t go out much in society, burdened as she was with a husband who was neither titled nor wealthy.”

“I heard his ship designs were brilliant.”

“That may well be, but how often can you design a ship? They only need one design to build many ships. The Gattengers were short of money, and Clara was getting tired of doing without.”

I could hardly wait to get out of Lady Ormond’s house to ask Phyllida if the Gattengers were in financial trouble.

Her response to my question in the cab was a mulish “Kenny would never have killed Clara. Not for all the money in the world.”

I kept my doubts to myself and said, “I didn’t say he would, but could he have been involved in something that led to another person coming into the study and killing Clara? Were they short of money?”

Phyllida gave a sniff and said, “They were the happiest of couples.” Her stiff-necked gaze out the opposite window told me I’d get nothing more from her.

Mercifully, we only left our cards at our second stop, since the lady was not at home. Whether she was truly out visiting or lying down to escape the heat, I couldn’t guess. I did feel certain I hadn’t offended anyone yet and so wasn’t being snubbed.

As luck would have it, at our third stop, Lady Bennett was receiving callers in her drawing room. Since Clara Gattenger had spent the last afternoon of her life with Lady Bennett and came back “ready to do murder,” in the words of her maid, I looked forward to this encounter.

Years of training hadn’t deserted Phyllida, and I took my hints from her. She waited in the doorway for the footman to announce us, and then she strolled across the room to our hostess. I followed, staring at our hostess.

The closer I moved to Lady Bennett, the better looking she appeared. Perhaps over forty, she had been gifted with creamy skin, fair hair, wide blue eyes, and the money to dress in a style that best suited her taste and her figure. I have freckles, unruly reddish hair, and seldom any money to waste on clothes. In short, she was a woman I instinctively disliked.

“Lady Bennett, I’m Lady Phyllida Monthalf. I’m glad we called on your at-home day. I’m introducing my cousin’s widow, Mrs. Edgar Monthalf, to London society. Mrs. Monthalf has just returned from the colonies.” We both curtsied.

“How are you enjoying London, Mrs. Monthalf?” I could tell by the appraising look and fake smile that Lady Bennett had looked me over and decided she could afford to dismiss me even as she returned the curtsy.

“It makes quite a change from life aboard ship or living in the Far East. This room is lovely.”

“Thank you. I made all the decorating decisions myself.”

“How fortunate you are to have such an agreeable husband,” I said, wanting to learn as much as I could about this woman.

“I’m a widow, too. I was fortunate that my husband left me this house and the wherewithal to enjoy life.” She looked me over again. “Few women are so lucky.” Her expression said she didn’t include me in that number.

The pink sleeves of her dress were large enough from shoulder to elbow for her waist to fit through. Mauve material peeked between the pink in every pleat set into her sleeves and skirt. Her dress had elaborate dark blue and mauve trim on the wrists, waist, and hem. No doubt next year the style would be different, and she’d have new dresses made.

While I liked my yellow linen shirtwaist dress, with its pretty tucks and wide sleeves, I’d remake mine as I had time. My dress was plain, due in part to a lack of time for Madame Leclerc to work her magic and in part to my sensible tastes.

I really didn’t like Lady Bennett’s overdone gown and didn’t want to lie and say I admired her taste. Falling back on convention, I said, “I’m very sorry for your loss. Was this a recent event?”

She withdrew slightly, showing her contempt for an ignorant provincial. “Over two years ago. Otherwise, I’d be forced to wear black.”

“Imagine. Being forced to abandon colors for two years. That would be so dreary. And they say the colonials are backward.” Before, we’d just been mildly catty. Now I’d let my claws out a little.

Phyllida gave me a sharp look while Lady Bennett was faced away and said, “I can’t wait for this ghastly weather to end. I like sunny days, but not ones where I feel as if I’ll melt into my shoes.”

Lady Bennett turned to gaze at her. “Yes, hasn’t it been frightful.” Motioning us to sit down, she took a wing chair and continued, “Lady Phyllida, I don’t remember seeing you out in society in London in recent years. Where have you been?”

“Oh . . .” Phyllida blushed and stammered, “Abroad for a while. In the country for a while.” Then she took a breath, raised her chin to look down on Lady Bennett, and said with complete assurance, “I felt a need to be away from the bustle of London after the horror my brother inflicted on us all.”

Lady Bennett mustn’t have expected Phyllida to be so forthright, because she blushed and quickly said to me, “Are you planning on remaining in London?”

“I hope to. I was a child the last time I had a chance to explore all London has to offer. If that’s all right with Lady Phyllida.”

“But will it be cosmopolitan enough for you, having lived in the—Far East, you said?”

Either she didn’t believe me or she was testing me for something. I wondered which it was. “Yes, a very hot and humid Singapore, so I don’t find this weather so shocking. And I believe London is cosmopolitan enough for anyone.”

“Singapore? How lovely. My sister and her husband will be arriving very soon from Singapore. Perhaps you know them? The Viscount and Viscountess Chattelsfield.”

My mind froze for an instant. I hadn’t planned on this at all. “I didn’t know anyone titled. My social contacts were among the businessmen and traders of the city and their families.”

“What a pity. I thought everyone knew them.”

Into the uncomfortable silence that fell, I said, “Tell me, did you redo your entire house after your husband died? I ask because we’ve taken rented quarters while we try to decide what to do.”

She smiled as if I made very easy prey. “I’d lived here with my husband for several years before his death. I’d redecorated most of the house before his passing, so there was little left for me to do to put my imprint on all the rooms.”

“This room is very light and feminine. And the wallpaper is quite striking.” The oversized blue flowers in the wallpaper were the same color as Lady Bennett’s eyes. I’d have disliked it less in any other house, where it didn’t proclaim
Compliment my mistress
.