The Royal Assassin (9 page)

I suspected Blackford now knew more than I did, and so far, he hadn't shared it with me. In fairness, he hadn't been able to, since we were never alone. With Emma keeping secrets and this investigation going in circles, I was having trouble being fair.

When I hung up the telephone, I found Frances counting the day's receipts and Grace straightening our racks of periodicals. “Is she as pretty in person as she looks in the magazine?” Grace asked.

“Who?” I knew she couldn't mean the old queen.

“Princess Kira. She'll make a lovely bride.”

“She's going to lead Sussex on a merry chase after they're wed,” I told her.

“Nasty?”

I shook my head. “She knows her own mind and doesn't mind getting her own way.”

“Good for her,” Frances said, joining us. Then she added, “The back is locked up.”

“Thank you. I'll see you at Sir Broderick's later?”

They both nodded.

I decided to try to find out if they knew what Emma was keeping secret. “What's up with Emma?”

“She'll tell us when she's ready,” Frances said, “and not a second sooner.” She gave me a contented smile, showing me she wasn't worried. Of course she wasn't. She wasn't the one who'd raised Emma for the past several years.

Grace put on her cloak and took up her umbrella. “I'll see you later,” she called out. Then she looked at me and added, “Don't worry about Emma. We'll find out in due course.”

The bell over the door jingled as she left.

After I locked up and walked home, I found Emma helping Phyllida put dinner on the table. “Sumner having dinner with us?” I asked.

“Why would he do that?” Emma asked and walked into the kitchen.

“I don't know. I just thought—,” I called out.

Emma came back out with the serving spoons. “Don't.”

Dropping the subject I wanted to discuss, I told them both about the upcoming meeting and what I'd learned that day. Emma was subdued, but she paid attention to what I was saying. Sumner's name didn't come up again. I wondered if they'd gotten into an argument during their long time together.

The weather was windy on our walk to Sir Broderick's, but at least the rain hadn't returned. The meeting, held in the parlor again, featured a roaring fire in the fireplace, steaming hot tea, and Dominique's wonderful scones. From the crumbs on Frances's ample bosom, I suspected she was on her third one. Mrs. Hardwick served tea and then disappeared.

Jacob entered carrying a doorknob and some pieces of thin
metal. I watched him sit down and fiddle with the knob for a minute before I asked, “Are you trying to fix it?”

He grinned. “No. I'm taking a course on lock picking from one of Sir Broderick's acquaintances. I'm practicing today's lesson.”

“I thought you were studying accountancy.”

“I am. This is sort of a hobby. Sir Broderick says I should widen my horizons.” Jacob gave me a wink and returned to his work.

I shook my head, but I couldn't hide my smile. “You're training him to be a thief, sir.”

Sir Broderick gave me a dry look before he asked Emma what she and Sumner had discovered. She gave the same brief report she'd given me. Then I reported speaking to Nadia and returning the princess to Hereford House.

“She speaks English?” Frances asked.

“Yes. Quite well. Apparently she was taught at home and her tutor was Scottish. Lady Raminoff was ordered by the tsar's mother to chaperone the princess. Not trusting her, the princess began to hide her ability to speak English.”

“A lie that's proven useful for us,” Blackford said, studying his glass of whiskey. Why was he looking so morose?

“We intend to keep her knowledge secret,” I told him.

“Good, because someone in Hereford House released Ivanov from his bonds and helped him escape,” the duke told us.

Everyone leaned forward at this surprising news.

“Are you certain someone freed Ivanov?” I asked. “He didn't escape on his own?”

“Yes. The cut ropes were left behind. The door was unlocked, not broken in. His guard, one of my footmen, was knocked unconscious. He didn't see the person who hit him, but the length of wood he was attacked with could have been wielded by anyone.”

I watched Blackford closely. “When did this happen?”

“Not long before I arrived home after dropping you off.”

“So it couldn't have been the princess, and it is very unlikely to have been Nadia. Were some of the staff eliminated from suspicion?” I asked.

“Very few. They all seemed to have been working separately. And none of them saw anyone suspicious loitering nearby.”

I shook my head. “Is there any way out of this puzzle, Blackford? The more we learn, the less we know. We have no idea why the Russian guard was killed or by whom, we don't know who the person is in the Hereford household who was working with Ivanov—”

Blackford interrupted me. “Who wasn't a Russian soldier.”

“W
HAT?”
Sir Broderick gripped the wheels of his chair. “If Ivanov wasn't a Russian soldier, then who was he?”

“We don't know. I checked with the Russian embassy after he escaped. They'd just heard back from St. Petersburg. Someone there checked with the tsar. No one was sent to replace the guard who was killed. Ivanov was an impostor.”

“Why? Why go to such an elaborate disguise when there must be easier ways to get into Hereford House?” I asked.

“Into Hereford House, yes. To be there at every step the princess takes, no.” The duke steepled his fingers. “And we have another problem. The tsar wants to send one of his household guards now. Whitehall is fighting his request.”

“The princess told me she didn't like Ivanov. She won't trust anyone else who comes in and says he's a Russian soldier.”

Actually, she'd said she would be terrified by another guard after the bullying, deceitful Ivanov.

The duke smiled faintly. “The duchess said if they send another soldier, she'll ask the princess and her party to leave.”

“She was frightened of Ivanov. I'd believe her threat,” I told him.

“Won't that hurt relations between the two countries? Especially in light of our feud in the Balkans,” Sir Broderick said.

Blackford nodded. “I passed on her message.”

“What did Whitehall say?” I asked.

“Besides saying the duchess and I weren't being helpful? I was told to pass on a statement to all of you from Whitehall. Find out who Ivanov is working for, who in the household is aiding him, and what the threat is to Princess Kira. As quickly as possible.”

“They don't want much,” Grace said.

“Could we convince the duchess to let Nadia stay at her home? That way the princess is less likely to wander off,” I suggested.

“Give me the name and address of the people she's staying with, and I'll check them out with my friends on the force,” Adam said.

Emma hadn't appeared to have listened to our discussion. Now she looked around the room and said, “Sumner and I will go back into the East End and follow the family. We'll find out if they or Nadia are involved.”

“Will you be staying away overnight, frightening Georgia again?” Frances asked, her eyebrows raised.

“If need be, I'll stay down there several nights. You don't need to worry, Georgia. I grew up there. I can take care of myself.” Her expression was angry.

What had I done? “I'm sure you can. I care about you, and I worry.”

“Well, don't.”

The room grew quiet.

Finally, Frances said, “Grace and I will mind the bookshop.”

“I'll ask the duchess and then let you know whether to bring Nadia to stay at Hereford House,” Blackford said to Emma. Looking around, he added, “Does anyone have any other ideas?”

We shook our heads.

“On the Shepherdston matter, another house had the safe blown up and furniture stolen two days ago. The owners, the Underhills, were away in Scotland shooting, and the servants sent a telegram to them telling them about the attack,” Blackford told us. “The servants hadn't informed the police—they were waiting for instructions from the Underhills—and were of little use when the owners had a Scotland Yard inspector sent around.

“This time it was a nosy neighbor across the street who was most helpful. She wrote down the name on the removals company van before they covered the load with a tarp, concealing the name. She said they employed a crew of five. Two men went inside. Two outside loaded the van. The fifth drove the cart. The man in charge was medium height and wiry. And he spoke with a foreign accent. When they left, the driver drove away and the others walked off in different directions.”

“Could it be the same people involved in blowing up Shepherdston's safe? Supposedly they spoke to each other in a foreign language,” Grace said.

“And the maids at Lord Walker's said the burglars had an accent,” Adam Fogarty said. “I'll speak to the neighbor and then talk to the maids again. If you'll give me the name of the removals company, Your Grace, I'll get on to them, too.”

Blackford gave him the information and then said as everyone rose to leave, “Sir Broderick, Georgia, I have something for you on a different matter.”

Emma was chatting with Jacob as they left the room. She didn't say she'd wait for me like she usually did.

I drew a breath and walked nearer the cloud of heat rolling out of the fireplace. Blackford glanced at the now closed parlor door and said, “Count Farkas has again been in touch with the man who owns the farm where your parents were killed, Georgia. He's somewhere in London.”

“I want to see Count Farkas. I want to speak to him. Now.” I'd waited over a decade to catch the man who killed my parents. Now that Blackford had learned the killer was back in London, I wanted to meet him that night.

“All right,” Blackford said. “After we find Ivanov and stop whatever threat might be following the princess.”

“No. I agreed to wait the last time we worked together and he escaped before I could confront him. This time, I want to meet him before he has a chance to leave the country.”

The two of us stood in front of Sir Broderick, staring into each other's eyes with gazes that wouldn't give way. I could see the gray flecks in his black eyes darken. I nibbled on my lower lip and watched his mouth form a flat line. He inched toward me and I felt myself sway into him.

“I have a better idea,” Blackford finally said.

My eyes narrowed. I didn't trust his “better idea.”

“Do you still have the ball gowns you ordered for your Georgina Monthalf disguise?”

“Of course.” They must have cost the earth. Blackford paid for them, ensuring they never quite felt like mine. Knowing he'd admired my appearance in them, I would never part with them.

“There's a ball at the Austrian embassy tomorrow night. I'd like you to go as my guest. I will invite Count Farkas to make our acquaintance during the dancing.”

Finally, a face-to-face meeting with my parents' killer. “I would love to accompany you, Your Grace.”

“Remember,” Sir Broderick said, “the Austrian embassy is Austrian soil. You can't arrest him there.”

Blast
. Would I never get him into police custody? Would I never see him hang?

I let loose a deep breath. “All right. We'll do it your way. But I want a private meeting with him, even if it has to be within the embassy.”

“I'll have to introduce you under your given name. No aliases this time.”

I smiled at Blackford's words. As if I'd want Count Farkas to think I was anyone but the daughter of the couple he'd killed a dozen years before. I wanted to see his face when I accused him of his sins.

I stomped out of the parlor to find Frances and Jacob waiting by the door. No Emma.

Oh, dear. She was truly angry with me, and I hadn't any idea why. “Where's Emma?”

“Sumner came by a few minutes ago, and the two of them left for the East End. Apparently, Sumner has made contact with a Russian anarchist group and they're going to find out what this group knows about Ivanov and the murder of the Russian soldier.”

I opened my mouth to protest, and Frances grabbed my arm. “You'll have to let go sooner or later. Emma is an adult, capable of making her own decisions. Sumner has made inroads with the anarchists, and this may be the break we need.”

“Can't he do this alone? This is dangerous.” The panic in my voice was unmistakable.

“Georgia, no one is more capable of taking care of herself than
Emma.” Blackford gave me his arm and said, “Let me give you a ride home, and you can continue to yell at me about Sumner taking a young lady into the East End for an investigation.”

He hustled me outside and led me over to his infernal Wellington carriage. I was so angry I jumped right in without needing assistance. He climbed in after me and signaled his driver to proceed.

I complained, berated, and threatened for five minutes before I noticed we weren't headed toward my home. “Where are we going, Blackford?”

“Just taking a nice evening jaunt around town while you blow off steam like a railway engine.” He smiled.

I glared at him, furious that he wasn't upset by Sumner's actions. “I am not blowing off steam, as you so sweetly put it. I'm concerned. I'm worried. I'm distressed.”

Blackford leaned forward, and in the light coming in from outside the carriage, I could see his dark eyes staring into my brain. “What is truly bothering you, Georgia? Are you afraid Sumner will ruin Emma and abandon her like you were by your onetime lover?”

I almost struck him in my blind fury. “I was not ruined and abandoned. We were due to get married and the banns were being read when he died. I was devastated. Emma was there for me then. And I want to be here for her now. I truly don't want to see her hurt.”

He reached across and surrounded my hand with his. The heat from his body rose up my arm, calming me slightly, although I was still jittery with fear. “What are you most afraid of,” he asked me gently, “seeing Emma hurt, or seeing her leave your home and your life?”

“Both.” My eyes began to leak the tears I'd held back for days. I groped in my bag for a handkerchief.

Blackford handed me a pristine square of monogrammed white linen and I pulled my hand away to cover my face with the cloth and both hands.

“She's a grown woman, Georgia.”

I sniffed loudly. “I wish everyone would stop saying that.”

“They would if you didn't keep carrying on like a fool.”

“A fool?” Now I was really angry. How dare his high and mighty grace judge me? “I seem to remember you forgetting to report your sister's death for two years.”

“That was different.”

“How exactly? Because you're a duke and I'm in trade?” I waved his handkerchief like a warning signal.

“No. Because Margaret may have been mad and may have been a killer and could never be allowed to have a family. Emma deserves every happiness she can find.” His voice was pitched low, but I could hear the underlying sorrow.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up that unfortunate—” Now it was my turn to reach out and pat his hand.

He snatched my hand and held it. “Leave them alone to find their own way.”

“How will he ever be able to support a family? He works for you, Your Grace.”

I could see his rueful smile in the weak light filtering into the carriage. “I don't pay as badly as all that.”

“Still, to raise a family on servant's wages? I'll have to find him work at the bookshop so they can make ends meet.”

“They'll be in better shape than you think.”

“Emma and Sumner?” Neither had a penny beyond their salaries. I'd bet on it.

“You find that strange?”

I thought of all the times I'd seen them together. They made a fine couple. But. “Neither comes from money. I don't see how Sumner can afford a household and a family. And if he hurts her, Your Grace, I'm coming after both of you.”

His smile reached his eyes. “I'd expect nothing less.”

•   •   •

THE FOLLOWING DAY
at Hereford House was uneventful. The princess began to demonstrate her knowledge of English, giving me all the credit for her quick mastery of the language. The duchess's eyebrows rose skyward, but she said only, “I'm glad you're making such rapid progress.” After the princess gave a particularly long statement in English, Lady Raminoff's eyes narrowed and she said, in French, “Perhaps, Miss Peabody, you could teach me to speak English so fluently in only a few days' time.”

I had no answer that wouldn't have compounded the lie.

I had little to do in the morning and wandered out into the back garden, where I found Lady Daisy with her governess, Amelia Whitten. They were counting petals on the late-blooming flowers and studying the breeze by watching the clouds. Being around them, listening to Lady Daisy's bright laughter, smelling the dirt carefully turned by the gardener, watching the colors of the leaves soften to red and gold, I found it hard to believe there was any worry or danger in the world.

“What a beautiful day,” I said as I joined them.

“Yes, it is,” Miss Whitten replied, rising from the stone bench.

“Oh, no. Please sit down,” I said to her. “Good morning, Lady Daisy,” I added with a curtsy to the little girl.

“Good morning. I can count up to one hundred,” she told
me, her chin in the air. She'd be beautiful and leading everyone by the reins in a dozen years.

“You're an accomplished young lady,” I said, hoping that was the proper reply.

Daisy skipped off, and I sat on the bench next to Miss Whitten. I turned my face to the sun and said, “How long have you been in the Hereford household?”