The Counterfeit Lady (3 page)

He was the most helpful aristocrat I’d ever met. Only one of the reasons I appreciated the duke.

*   *   *

PHYLLIDA AGREED TO
come to the meeting with us, but she seemed hesitant. She took much longer over her toilette than I’d seen before. She seemed unable to decide what to wear and told Emma to redo her hairstyle twice. She backed away from the hired carriage before we finally talked her into the vehicle.

But once she entered Sir Broderick’s home, her attitude changed. Her chin lifted, and she led us in a stately procession up the stairs to the study.

“Lady Monthalf,” Sir Broderick said, wheeling himself away from the fire to come forward and kiss the glove on the back of her outstretched hand. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. Georgia speaks very highly of you.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Sir Broderick.” She favored him with a sweet smile.

“The pleasure is mine. Please, sit anywhere. You’ll find we’re very informal in our customs within the Archivist Society. It comes from needing to trust each other as much as family.”

I winced as the smile slipped from Phyllida’s lips. “More than family,” she said, taking a half step back.

“In many cases, yes. Let me present everyone to you.” Sir Broderick gestured to each member who was present at this meeting as he introduced them to “Lady Monthalf.”

Jacob, Sir Broderick’s assistant, gave her a deep bow. An East End urchin when he first asked for help from the Archivist Society, he was still deferential to anyone with a title. Frances Atterby, the widow of a hotel owner, greeted her with the genuine warmth she had shown thousands. Adam Fogarty’s bow was stiff, a telltale sign that the injury that had ended his career in the police ached. Then we all stood around, waiting uncomfortably for someone to say something.

“Sit down. I’m tired of twisting my neck,” Sir Broderick growled as he wheeled his way back to his customary spot in front of the fire. I didn’t know how he could abide sitting so close to the heat. The evening was warm, the fire was hot, and sweat poured down my back.

As I took my seat on the sofa next to Phyllida, the Duke of Blackford entered the room. “Good evening,” he said as we all rose and bowed or curtsied. He in turn gave Sir Broderick and Phyllida each a bow. “Has Miss Fenchurch brought you up to speed on this investigation?”

“Not yet. We’ve just arrived,” I said. “Why don’t you tell them?” We all settled in for a long meeting.

The duke nodded, sat in a wing chair facing Sir Broderick, and leaned back. “Kenneth Gattenger is a naval architect who’s designed the newest type of warship, one that will ensure Britain’s dominance on the high seas for years to come. He’s also a newlywed, married only a year. Last night, his wife was murdered while the two of them were alone in a locked room. There was no sign of a break-in. A set of plans to Gattenger’s new battleship design disappeared from the room at the time of the murder, a room where a fire burned on the hearth.”

“You make it sound like he murdered my cousin,” Phyllida said in a quiet voice. She sat completely still, looking totally composed.

“Those are the facts, and based on those facts, Gattenger has been arrested for his wife’s murder. Scotland Yard is certain he’s guilty.” The duke stared at her as if daring her to disagree.

“They are wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen Kenny and Clara together. They fitted each other like a hand in a glove.” Phyllida spoke with aristocratic certainty as she waved her hand.

The duke looked around the room. “I was called in as soon as Scotland Yard informed Whitehall and the Admiralty. There is another possibility, which our government both fears and refuses to acknowledge. A possibility I want the Archivist Society to investigate.”

He gave his words a moment to sink in, and then continued. “There is a chance that a burglar entered the room, killed Clara Gattenger, and removed the drawings. Our hot, dry weather meant their windows were open and the ground around the windows was hard. There are paving stones stretching across the back garden to the gate in the fence leading to an alley. A burglar could have conceivably entered and left without leaving a trace.”

The duke waited for a response. When no one spoke, he said, “We believe the intended recipient of the ship plans, the employer of the burglar, is the German master spy in Britain, Baron von Steubfeld. He’s a member of the kaiser’s embassy staff here in London. Von Steubfeld was already under watch by our Naval Intelligence Department. Furthermore, he knows it. So far we don’t believe he’s received the drawings, but we’d like more eyes on him. Eyes he doesn’t know.”

“We can help with that,” Sir Broderick said.

“Good. The drawings are on seven sheets of very large paper, about a yard in each direction, either rolled in a tube or folded into a package. The last sheet was found partially burned by the fireplace and may not be with the others.”

“Are we to believe von Steubfeld will be upset to receive less than the entire package?” Sir Broderick asked.

“Yes. The last sheet is key if the Germans want to build a ship to these specifications. The baron will not be pleased if he receives less than what he paid for.” The duke gave us a smile that made my blood chill.

“Why would the Germans want our designs? They have their own naval architects. I don’t understand why they’d bother to steal our plans.” Despite the kaiser’s affection for our queen, I knew the German government didn’t think highly of Britain.

The duke gave me a disapproving look. “If they know what our ships are capable of, they can build their ships and create their battle plans to defeat us.”

“Battle plans?” I bristled at his disparagement. What a ridiculous point of view. Our navy was the greatest the world had ever seen. “Why would the Germans want to fight us? They’d lose.”

He leaned toward me, a determined glow in his eyes. “They will fight us. And they’ll do anything they can to ensure they’ll win. That’s why they’re speeding up their shipbuilding schedule. That’s why they have spies in our country. We’re in a naval arms race with the Germans, whether or not we like it, and we need to protect our superiority.”

I didn’t like to be lectured to. I pressed my lips together in irritation even as fear slid down my skin, mixed with my sweat in the overheated room. I liked what he told us even less, especially since Blackford was uncanny in his ability to see complications before anyone else was aware there was a problem. In a tone barely above a whisper, I asked, “Are you certain?”

He sprawled back in his chair, the glow gone from his eyes. In a quiet voice, he said, “I don’t like it, either.”

Sir Broderick broke in. “I know you came here for more than to lecture us on European conflicts.”

“I did.” The duke looked around the room. “The baron goes out in society a great deal with Lady Bennett. She could be used to pass on the drawings.”

The duke’s gaze fell on me. “We need to dog their heels night and day if we’re to recover those drawings. The plan I’ve devised is tricky. I want to place a member of the Archivist Society in a position to mingle with him in aristocratic society. A position that no one will associate with counterespionage.”

Sir Broderick pressed the tips of his fingers together and looked over them at Blackford. “When you came by this afternoon, you told me you had something in mind.”

“I want to set up Georgia Fenchurch as a cousin of Lady Monthalf, recently arrived from some part of the empire. I want the two of them residing in a household in fashionable London. I want them to go to the opera, to the theater, to balls and parties. And I want them to befriend Lady Bennett.”

Visions of waltzing and attending the opera warred in my brain with thoughts of my bookshop in ruin. “What about Fenchurch’s Books? I can’t just leave it shuttered for weeks.”

“Oh, Georgia, don’t sound so middle-class,” Blackford said in an annoyed tone. “Our nation’s security is at stake.”

I couldn’t leave my bookshop for that long. Both my business and my reputation would be destroyed. “I am middle-class. My shop is my life. I’ll attend social events with you, but my days will be spent as they always are. In my bookshop.”

The duke shook his head. “No. You’ll have afternoon teas and visits. You’ll have to dedicate your life to this role for some time.”

I glared at the duke. The devil I would.

"G
EORGIA,
we wouldn’t expect you to close your shop. Frances Atterby and some of the other Archivist Society members can run the shop for you. Frances has certainly helped you out enough that she knows how the shop should be managed,” Sir Broderick said. “And you’ll be there part of the time. Frances can handle a few hours without you.”

“Frances? What about Emma? She’s always in charge when I have to be out.” I caught the look between Sir Broderick and the duke. Had they discussed this before our meeting?

Of course they had, which only made me angrier. I pushed my hands down against the atmosphere building in the room as I said, “No. As much as I trust you, Frances, running a bookshop for days is a big responsibility.”

“Emma will be working closely with you on this investigation. You’ll both be away days. Weeks. As long as it takes,” Blackford said.

Frances’s eyes widened at his words. Sir Broderick cleared his throat when he saw the look on my face.

How dare the duke make that determination? I was steaming from the heat in the room and from my temper. “As long as it takes? No. There’s more than just looking at the price and selling off the shelves. There’s ordering, bookkeeping, unpacking stock, paying bills. Frances has never done any of that, and she’s never handled antiquarian stock. No, I won’t—”

“But I have.” Sir Broderick’s voice cut through my argument. “You can do the ordering, the bookkeeping, the paying, and what you don’t have time for, I can do from here. I do know a crown-octavo edition from a red-cloth-cover edition, and I’m aware of the discounts the publishers should give you. I’m no novice to the business.”

All that was true, but there was something he couldn’t do. I took a deep breath before I said, “And the antiquarian business? Excuse me, Sir Broderick, but you can’t pop down to the store every time we have a customer for an old book.”

He smacked the armrests of his wheelchair and looked away. The only sound in the room was the crackle from the fireplace. I could have cried in shame for bringing up his affliction, especially since he’d sustained his injury in helping me attempt to rescue my parents.

He’d been in partnership with my father in the bookshop, viewing it as an investment where he could indulge his passion for antiquarian books. I ran to him when I escaped the madman who had held my parents hostage over the matter of a Gutenberg Bible we didn’t possess.

Arriving ahead of the police, we saw the cottage where my parents had been taken burst into flame. We entered, trying to save them from the inferno. A roof beam collapsed on Sir Broderick.

My lengthy struggle to drag Sir Broderick to safety meant the house collapsed before I could reenter and release my parents. My failure as a seventeen-year-old girl left Sir Broderick crippled and my parents dead. As angry as I was at myself, I was angrier at the duke for forcing me to point out Sir Broderick’s life-altering injury.

“I could pop over and bring the book to Sir Broderick, and he could send me back with instructions.” Jacob, Sir Broderick’s assistant, glanced from Sir Broderick to me.

“How would you know to ‘pop over’? Sir Broderick can’t do without you all day.” Only Blackford could create such a disaster and then sit listening to us with an expressionless face.

“Use the telephone.” Jacob pointed to the shiny black object now sitting on Sir Broderick’s specially designed desk.

“I don’t have one in the shop.”

“I’ll put in the order in the morning,” the duke said.

“It takes weeks—”

“I’m a director of the company. It won’t take weeks.” Blackford permitted me to see a brief smile. Smug cad. He appeared to be enjoying the trouble he’d started.

“This is going to cost a lot of money. Where are Phyllida and I going to stay while we’re playing our roles? We’ll need new clothes. And servants. We don’t have time to set this up properly.” Even as I gave the reasons why this plan of the duke’s wouldn’t work, I felt defeat looming above me.

“Lady Phyllida and I will set up the house and begin ordering the clothes. My housekeeper will arrange for your servants. Miss Keyes”—the duke turned to Emma—“it would help us immensely if you’d play lady’s maid to Lady Phyllida and Lady Georgina. That way you’ll be present to run messages and can question servants without arousing suspicion.”

“Do lady’s maids carry knives?” Emma asked.

“This one will,” Blackford assured her.

“Shouldn’t Emma play the aristocrat and I play the lady’s maid?” Despite her childhood in the East End, Emma was a beautiful blonde who had every man she met groveling at her feet. My looks let me fade into the background, like a good maid should.

“Only a scullery maid would have your unruly mass of auburn hair,” Emma said with a grin, and I immediately reached up to see how much my hairdo had slipped in the humidity despite a fistful of pins.

“Won’t the aristocracy we’ve dealt with in previous cases recognize me?” Not too long before, I had acted the part of Lady Westover’s country cousin and met the duke. Besides my curly reddish hair, I had freckles, violet eyes, and a long, graceful neck. The combination made my looks stand out in London society.

“Lady Westover is in the country with the Dutton-Cox family trying to nurse Lady Dutton-Cox back to health. Lord Waxpool is failing, and his family is staying close by his side, also in the country. Daisy Hancock is in France with her mother’s family. Lord Naylard is on the racing circuit, and his sister never goes out in society. The Mervilles are at their country estate. Most of society has left London. You have nothing to fear,” Blackford assured me.

I glanced at Sir Broderick. “You can’t think of anyone I’d meet in the course of this investigation who would know my association with the Archivist Society?”

Sir Broderick shook his head.

“There’s no one.” Blackford looked at me in satisfaction. “I plan to immediately and publicly take the widowed Georgina as my paramour, ensuring her inclusion in all invitations, and smooth the way for Lady Phyllida to also receive invitations from biddies who want to press her for gossip.”

I jumped off the sofa. “And I suppose this widowed Georgina is my role?”

“I don’t want to use your real name. Georgina is close enough we won’t make a mistake, and it sounds more regal.” The duke looked up at me, and I could see laughter in his eyes. Eyes I could have cheerfully scratched out.

“Paramour? Publicly?” I remained standing, glaring down at him. The philistine remained seated in the presence of a lady. Well, me, but he should have stood. He was showing bad manners, and Blackford never showed bad manners.

“Miss Emma is a young lady. You, on the other hand, are a mature woman. Easily passed off as a widow. One more likely to tempt a duke. And the ‘publicly’ part just calls for a bit of flirtation, some hand holding, a few glances where you don’t look like you’re measuring me for a coffin.”

Mature woman?
“You might stand when you address me.” My words sizzled when they passed my lips.

The duke rose, lifted one ungloved hand, and trapped my chin on top of his forefinger. “Ah, Georgia. Now you begin to sound like an aristocrat. You’re the one best suited to play this role. Britain’s mastery of the seas and our safety as a nation are at stake. We can recapture those plans and keep your bookshop running, but only if you trust me.”

I thought about jerking my head back so I could bite his forefinger. “Mature woman?”

“A youngster fresh out of the schoolroom is hardly going to tempt me. A woman with some substance is much more alluring.” His eyes glowed with lust.

“Paramour?” I raised an eyebrow. I wasn’t buying his act.

He took a deep breath. The glow left his eyes and his tone became businesslike again. “Easily faked. People see what they expect to see, if you can refrain from looking daggers at me.”

“I hope I’m that good an actress.”

Someone in the room snorted.

“Are you on board with this plan, Georgia?” Sir Broderick asked.

“I don’t seem to have a choice.” I sat down and glared at Blackford. Only then did the duke resume sitting, his legs crossed at the knee, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Wise girl. Get everything in order in the bookshop. Bring me any paperwork or bookkeeping that you need me to help with after work tomorrow. As soon as possible during the day, you and Emma need to take off at different times for fittings for new wardrobes. Madame Leclerc can be speedy and discreet with the right amount of incentive.” Sir Broderick nodded as he ticked off his instructions.

“Cash being her incentive?” I asked and glanced at the duke.

“Of course. Lady Phyllida, if you would assist me in selecting the most appropriate property, I’ll escort you to your fitting.” Blackford nodded to her in a sort of seated bow.

“You realize I’m doing this not for Britain but for justice for Clara,” Phyllida said, staring at the duke.

“I am, too,” I told her, taking her hand. Not precisely for Clara but for Phyllida and those few in her family who treated her decently.

“Your nation and your sovereign appreciate it, no matter what reason you have for helping us,” Blackford said to Phyllida.

“You speak for all of Britain and the queen now, Your Grace?” My feelings were hurt by how the duke used Sir Broderick to force me into playing my part in his plan. A part that would keep me out of my bookshop far too much.

“Yes.”

And they’d been so busy pushing me into my role that they’d overlooked Ken Gattenger’s part. “I think we’re missing a part of this investigation.”

“What are we missing?”

“If we’re right about the plans being stolen from the Gattengers’ house on the only night they’d have been available, the baron has bought the loyalty of someone in the Admiralty office where the drawings are kept. We need someone in that office to find out which clerk told the burglar, or the Germans, when to break into the Gattengers’ house.”

Emma said, “It has to be a young male. The best choice would be Jacob, but he’ll be running messages between us and Sir Broderick concerning this investigation, and antiquarian books between Sir Broderick and the bookshop.”

“Sumner can take on that function. Unless you have a better answer, Your Grace,” I said. John Sumner served as the duke’s bodyguard, but I’d never figured out if the former soldier had other duties. I only knew how much the duke trusted and relied on him.

Blackford scowled for a moment before he nodded. “I don’t. I’ll see about making the arrangements to add Jacob to the Admiralty records office staff in the morning.”

I gave him a satisfied smile. Now I wasn’t the only one whose life would be turned upside down by this investigation.

“I recently had a woman who’d nursed her invalid husband approach me for a position. We’ll investigate her and then I may take her on,” Sir Broderick said, “depending on how long Jacob will need to be absent.”

Sir Broderick eyed Jacob and shook his head. “You need to understand the burglar already killed once when he was cornered. You should only identify the clerk who’s in the payroll of the Germans and pass the information on to Inspector Grantham at Scotland Yard. Let them get the clerk to name the person who received the information.”

Jacob gave him a cocky grin. “I grew up in the East End, just like Emma. No one warns her not to follow a lead. Don’t worry about me.”

Sir Broderick slumped in his wheelchair. “Oh, but my dear boy, I do.”

*   *   *

MY ANNOYANCE AT
the duke’s interference had barely lessened by the next afternoon when Blackford escorted Phyllida into the bookshop. I glanced out the windows, surprised not to see the tall, ancient Wellington coach Blackford normally used. “Where’s your usual carriage?”

“I assured His Grace I couldn’t manage the coach he brought to Sir Broderick’s last night, so he kindly brought this one today,” Phyllida said. She appeared more assured than I’d seen her before. She held her chin at that disdainful angle the aristocracy employed and she spoke up immediately, not waiting to see if anyone else spoke first.

If the duke could help Phyllida recover some confidence, I could forgive him almost anything. But if Sir Broderick and Frances damaged my business while I was involved in this investigation, everyone, including Blackford, would have to pay merry hell.

“How did your morning go?” I asked.

“Oh, Georgia, the duke has the cutest little house in Mayfair. It’s a good size for the two of us and a small staff. There’s a room in the back on the second floor for Emma as our lady’s maid that connects to the dressing room and then into a room for you, Georgia. It’ll make it easier for you two to sneak around planning and investigating without alerting the servants.”

“Mayfair.” Emma said the name of the area with a tone of wonder. “I never thought I’d be living there. Even as a lady’s maid.”

I looked around my shop in the neighborhood of Leicester Square, my middle-class shop on my middle-class street, and wrapped my arms around my waist. “Don’t get too used to living there. This investigation will be as short as I can possibly make it.”

Phyllida patted my shoulder. “Sir Broderick and Frances will take good care in assisting you with the shop.”