The Counterfeit Lady (7 page)

She must have missed my dislike because she gave me a genuine smile and said, “When I saw it, I just knew I had to have it.”

I’ll bet she did. Phyllida frowned at me before I could say what I was thinking, so I changed the subject. “How do you keep cool in this weather? We went to a higher elevation in the East, but that’s impossible in London.”

“Anyone who is anyone is leaving London for country house parties. Parliament has adjourned until the weather improves. The queen and the court left for the seaside at Osborne House.”

“So the government just shuts down in midsummer?”

“This frightful heat wave has been of surprisingly long duration. And while not at a higher elevation, country estates are far from London’s traffic and the heat isn’t trapped between street after street of houses.”

I gave her a vacuous smile. “I feel cooler just thinking about it. Country houses. The seaside. It all sounds wonderful.”

She gave me a pitying look. “Oh, but you have to have friends with country houses to invite you. Otherwise, every year London becomes so stuffy and dreary at the end of the season. That’s not until mid-August,” she added as if to the socially deficient.

I really didn’t like this woman.

There was one more subject I needed to cover before Phyllida and I finished our standard quarter-hour visit with Lady Bennett. I needed to mention the real reason I was there that day. “I believe you knew my husband’s cousin, Mrs. Kenneth Gattenger. Clara Gattenger.”

Lady Bennett paled. She tapped her lips with one well-manicured finger. “Mrs. Gattenger. I know we were introduced, but we were barely acquaintances. I don’t think I’ve seen her in six months.”

Clara’s maid had said this woman had called on Clara only the week before. “When Mrs. Gattenger knew I was coming to London, she mentioned she would introduce us, as you and she were friendly.”

“We had been, but since her marriage, she only seemed to have time for her husband.”

“Well, we widows don’t have that problem, do we?” I said and smiled.

“Yes. How lovely,” Lady Bennett said, but whether she meant the freedom widows have, or the arrival of more visitors, which effectively blocked my questions about Clara, was hard to tell.

As we went through curtsies and introductions, I wondered why Lady Bennett wouldn’t admit she’d visited with Clara the day of her death.

Her guests were introduced as the Dowager Duchess of Bad Ramshed and her youngest daughter, Lady Magda. Magda was a quiet blonde who stayed out of reach of her mother. The duchess heard my name as Mrs. Monthalf and asked, “What does your husband do?” as if I’d announced I carried bubonic plague.

“Nothing now. He died. He was a businessman in the Far East.”

“He was a shopkeeper?” Her tone rose as if I’d stepped into the parlor in my shift.

I smiled and said, “A little wealthier than that.”

Lady Bennett maneuvered us toward the door and quietly said in our ears, “My condolences on the loss of your cousin.”

“What has happened?” the dowager duchess demanded. She had excellent hearing and dreadful manners.

We all turned and stared at her in silence. Lady Bennett blushed and looked down. “She was murdered. Her husband is in prison for the murder.”

“Not the ship designer, Gattenger?” the dowager grumbled, her accent thickening with harsh syllables.

“Yes,” Lady Bennett said, looking more uncomfortable by the moment.

I took a step toward the older woman. What would a visiting female German aristocrat know about British engineers? “Do you have connections to the Royal Navy and the Admiralty?”

“No. I just know this wouldn’t happen in Germany. Their work is too important to allow them to be involved in tawdry scandals.”

Phyllida made a small choking sound.

I turned to Lady Bennett and said our good-byes before taking Phyllida by the arm and leading her out of the parlor.

“Why do they let people like that into the country?” Phyllida growled.

I wasn’t certain whether the ladies heard us. I certainly didn’t care.

After leaving our calling cards at a few more houses, we returned to discover the duke sitting in the most comfortable chair in our parlor. He rose when we walked in and bowed to Lady Phyllida. “I hope you ladies will attend the theater with me tonight. It is the final performance of Shakespeare for the season at the Lyceum. Everyone will be there.” He put a slight emphasis on everyone.

“I’m afraid Phyllida and I already have an escort to that play,” I answered.

“What?” Even his questions could sound like commands.

I lowered my voice as I stepped close to the duke, ensuring the servants couldn’t eavesdrop. “You wanted me to question Sir Henry. Not only will I be able to do that, I will get a chance to search his study. We’re having dinner at his house.”

“That’s not safe.”

“You think he’s involved with the theft and you want me to question him. We need to find out if the plans are in his study.”

“How are we supposed to begin our affair if you’re seen with Sir Henry?”

I grinned. “You’ll have to work harder. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Your Grace, we need to dress for dinner and the theater.”

“Georgia, be careful. One lovely, courageous woman was killed over those blueprints. We don’t want to lose another.”

My smile widened. It was nice to see Blackford discomfited. “It won’t be the first time I’ve done something like this. Just in nicer surroundings this time.”

He reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Georgia, I’m serious. This man has a dangerous reputation.”

“So do you, Your Grace.”

“Georgia.” He stared into my eyes, and I glimpsed a flash of fear.

I slid my hand around to hold his wrist. I could feel his pulse speed. “It’ll be all right, Ranleigh.”

Blackford drew in a deep breath, his face taking on the expression of his pirate-raider ancestors before a massacre, and strode out of our parlor.

“Oh, dear,” Phyllida said.

O
H
,
dear, indeed. The dinner party turned out to be just four of us: Sir Henry, his brother Robert, Phyllida, and me. The two men shared a town house laid out like the Gattengers’, with the dining room in front on the ground floor.

The study—every gentleman had a study—would be the room behind the dining room or one floor up behind the parlor. I hoped I’d find it on the ground floor, which would make my job easier. But I had no idea how Phyllida would be able to keep both men occupied while I searched Sir Henry’s desk.

The clear soup course was good. The next, an ordinary fish, was fair. We discussed the weather, gossip about the royal family, and, on Robert Stanford’s part, the dearth of interesting people in London during this heat wave. It turned out he was leaving the next day for a holiday at a hotel in Torquay, where he claimed the fashionable were staying.

“Are you in the shipbuilding business with your brother, Mr. Stanford?” I asked.

He shuddered. “No, I’m a barrister in Gray’s Inn.”

“I hope I never have need of your services,” Phyllida said.

Sir Henry smiled weakly and said, “I suppose, Mrs. Monthalf, you had quite an experience with solicitors while sorting out your late husband’s business affairs. Especially since it was a large fortune.”

“I don’t know that I’d call it a large fortune, but Edgar made certain I’d be more than comfortable.” Phyllida and I had never considered how much money my fictitious husband left me. I didn’t think the question would come up. Discussion of money was never allowed in proper society.

“I hope you have it invested wisely,” Sir Henry said.

At that moment, the maids served the fowl course, some rather dry chicken, and conversation stopped. As the maids were leaving with the fish plates, I decided to turn the conversation away from money. “Mr. Stanford, as a barrister, have you heard of the case of Mr. Kenneth Gattenger, accused of murdering his wife? He’s innocent, of course.”

“Yes. Interesting case.”

“His wife was my husband’s cousin.”

“Oh? Who’s Gattenger’s solicitor?”

“Do you know, I’ve never thought to ask. We must remember that the next time we visit him, Phyllida.”

Phyllida gave me a faint smile.

“The newspaper reporters have already started circling the Inns of Court about the Gattenger murder. It will be a sensation. Do you know why Whitehall is holding back the prosecution?” With the scandalous gossip he’d already shared and the eagerness in his voice, Robert was leaving a bad taste in my mouth. He was not someone I’d want to see on a regular basis.

Phyllida looked like she might be ill.

Sir Henry must have seen the looks on his guests’ faces, because he said, “That’s enough, Robert.”

“I’m sorry. I let my enthusiasm for the law run away with my good manners.”

We both nodded to him, and Phyllida asked if he ever had time with his busy profession to read literature.

The mutton course, the salad course, and the iced fruit course passed without me finding a way to check out the study. As the coffee and cheese course arrived, Robert stood, wished us enjoyment of the play, and said he had a previous engagement.

We said how nice it was to meet him without displaying a trace of irony. Listening to his footsteps, I could tell he went out the front door immediately after leaving us.

After waiting a moment to make sure he didn’t return, I asked if there was somewhere where I could freshen up. Sir Henry reddened and gave me directions to the back of the house on the landing between this floor and the next.

I gestured toward Sir Henry with my eyes as I looked at Phyllida, hoping she read my meaning. Then I rose and excused myself.

Phyllida started a stream of talk aimed at diverting Sir Henry before he had time to resume his seat or I had left the room. There were no servants in sight as I hurried to the door toward the back of the ground floor.

It was still daylight out and the draperies were open when I looked inside to see I’d found the study. Now if I could search it thoroughly without anyone finding me, the evening would be a success.

I started with the drawers in the desk. Knowing the blueprints would be bulky, it wasn’t hard to eliminate possibilities quickly. Most of the books on the shelves were too thin, even hollowed out, to hold the plans. The few that were thick enough were intact. None of them were law books. Robert must have his study upstairs while Sir Henry used this room.

The only place left to check was a handsome file cabinet. Locked.

I pulled out a hairpin and began to poke around in the lock. I heard a click and slid the first drawer open. Blueprints.

Dozens of blueprints. I’d have to look at them all to make sure Gattenger’s warship plans weren’t there.

I checked the other drawers. More blueprints. I pulled out one page. I could tell it was for a ship, but I couldn’t tell which one. It was dated from three years before and numbered. Sliding the paper back into place, I checked another, and then one from a different drawer. Different pages, different dates, probably different ships.

This would be the perfect place to hide Gattenger’s stolen blueprints. The trouble was, I’d need a long time to check each page to know whether it belonged to the stolen plans, and there were hundreds of sheets.

Phyllida’s voice came loudly through the closed door. “I’m sure she’ll be back in a moment. Let’s wait in the dining room, and you can tell me the family story behind the cutlery.”

“Of course.” Sir Henry sounded both puzzled and resigned.

I quickly refolded the sheet I had opened, hoping no one heard the paper rustling, and shut and locked the drawer. I shoved my hairpin in my coiffure and listened at the door for their receding footsteps. Then I opened the door enough to peek into the hall. A maid was coming up the stairs. I hurried toward her to make it appear I had just come downstairs and then walked into the dining room. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

The maid came in the room behind me and gave me a funny look. There was no way to know if she’d tell her employer her suspicions. At least she wouldn’t have an opportunity to tell him until after the play.

On the carriage ride to the theater, Sir Henry asked, “Are you getting good advice from your bankers on where to invest your money?”

“It sounds reasonable. Why?”

“I’d hate to see you taken advantage of with your unfamiliarity with British businesses.”

“They’ve been very conservative.”

“Not always the best policy,” he said, nodding sagely.

I suspected I knew where this was headed. “Why not?”

“The only way to get a decent return on your money is by investing in new fields, new manufacturing processes. Old methods will just slowly drain away your money. And bankers prefer the tried-and-true methods of the past.”

“What would you advise?”

He smiled. “I’m not advising you. As a friend, I’m just pointing out a fact of business that you should consider.” Then he turned the conversation to Shakespearean plays he’d seen.

If he were planting a seed, hoping I’d invest in his shipyard, he did it very carefully. Sir Henry was shrewder than I’d thought.

We arrived at the Lyceum to find the usual bustle and noise of a theater crowd. The sun sat low on the horizon behind the buildings, but it was no cooler in the long shadows. It wouldn’t be fully dark, bringing the hope of a breeze, until after the performance.

Two couples who’d chosen to stop and talk in the middle of the sidewalk trapped Phyllida outside the theater, while a cluster of dandies jostled me as I attempted to enter the main doors. Sir Henry kept busy moving us forward with a polite word to the two couples and a quelling look at the dandies.

Once inside, the lobby was jammed with heated, perfumed bodies, and I couldn’t draw a breath until Sir Henry created a path through the crowd and we slipped through the door leading to the inside of the theater.

Baron von Steubfeld was already seated along the aisle with Lady Bennett. As they stood so we could get past them to our seats, the temperature dropped ten degrees.

Of course, there was no choice but for a round of introductions and pleasantries, especially since Lady Phyllida said before she sat down, “Why, Lady Bennett, I didn’t expect to see you again tonight. Your house is so lovely.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

Sir Henry did the introductions while the baron glowered at us, but he did a perfunctory job of kissing Lady Phyllida’s hand and then mine.

Seen close up, even on the sloping floor of the theater, the baron was tall. He appeared to have the lean musculature of a horseman or a fencer beneath his high-collared Prussian military uniform. His eyes, a bright blue, were cold with dismissal.

He returned to his seat and pointedly addressed a comment to Lady Bennett, ignoring the rest of us.

“I beg your pardon, von Steubfeld, but we need to get to our seats.” Hearing Blackford’s rich baritone, I turned quickly to find him standing in the aisle by our row with an attractive brunette in her early to mid thirties.

The baron rose and he and the duke exchanged the stiffest of bows. When Blackford squeezed past us, he introduced us to the brunette as Lady Peters. She greeted Phyllida and me formally and then Sir Henry with greater warmth.

Wanting to push forward with the investigation, I turned to Blackford and his companion. “How nice to see you again, and to meet you, Lady Peters. Do you reside in London year-round?”

“Most of the year. I have family who have a château in France and I try to spend the winter with them. The weather is milder there.” She had pretty brown hair that her maid must have spent hours putting curls into, and soft brown eyes. She looked kind, gently bred, ordinary. Would she be the successful candidate for Duchess of Blackford?

I went for the blandest reply. “Is London weather truly so awful?”

Sir Henry tapped my arm to get my attention and said, “Lady Bennett said you lived in Singapore and didn’t know who the Viscount Chattelsfield is. Surely you know he’s a member of the executive council for the governor of the Straits Settlements.”

I gave him a smile as I made a quick decision. “I knew who he was. We weren’t important enough to socialize with people like that, and I stayed away from politics. I was never introduced to him, and so didn’t know him.”

Turning back to Lady Peters, I glanced at Blackford’s face. He looked worried.

“Lady Peters—” I began.

She gave the stage a quick glance. “Would it be forward of me to ask you and Lady Phyllida to call tomorrow? I’d so like to talk to you, and I’m afraid the play is about to start.”

She was right. The houselights were being lowered. “We’d enjoy calling on you.”

After exchanging smiles with me, she turned her attention to the stage. I gave Sir Henry, who’d been watching me, a flirty grin and then gazed at the rising curtain.

At intermission, we all rose and joined the throng in the lobby. I glanced around and made sure I didn’t know anyone in the audience who might endanger my role in our real-life drama. The men went off to battle the crowd for chilled wine while we ladies looked at each other, smiled, and hoped someone else would start the conversation.

“How are you handling the heat, Lady Peters?” Phyllida asked.

“This is the worst summer I’ve seen in London. I don’t know how the residents of the East End can survive, poor creatures.”

“That’s their problem. They are poor creatures,” Lady Bennett said.

“Let us pray for a break in this weather,” I said. “For everyone’s sakes.”

“I’m grateful to be leaving London in a few days,” Lady Bennett said, a smug smile on her face.

“Where are you going?” Phyllida asked.

“Lord Harwin is having a country house party at his estate in Gloucestershire. The rural air must be cooler than London, all hemmed in as we are here.”

“Does he have a large house?” I asked, unable to ask the question I wanted the answer for. Is Baron von Steubfeld leaving London?

“One of those massive Georgian palaces, with gardens stretching in all directions,” Lady Bennett replied.

“I went to a house party there years ago. Chaperones behind every fern,” Phyllida said. “Of course, the old countess is long dead, and I’m sure no such protection is needed for widows.”

Her neat insinuation made Lady Peters’s eyes widen and I had to bite my lip. Lady Bennett flared. “If you’re asking if the baron will be there, he will be. I can assure you our behavior is above reproach. The current countess is as protective of her household’s good name as some long-ago lady.”

Which only meant they had to be discreet. All of us knew that, but no one dared mention the obvious.

“What are your plans, Lady Peters?” I asked into the silence that had fallen between us.

“I don’t know. I hope to leave town soon, but my plans aren’t finalized. And you, Mrs. Monthalf?”

“I’ve only just arrived in England. I’ve put myself completely in Lady Phyllida’s hands, and so far, she’s been full of surprises.” Oh, my, yes. She seemed to be recalling all the skills she hadn’t needed in nearly twenty years. I doubted that after this investigation was over she would be satisfied to live with a mere bookshop owner. Especially if that bookshop owner found Ken Gattenger was involved in the death of her beloved cousin. The possibility dropped a boulder onto my heart.