The Counterfeit Lady (16 page)

I shot discreet glances around me every so often, but I didn’t see the man again. Lady Peters and I discussed the fashions of the ladies passing us. She told me Cheltenham Spa had been fashionable for over a hundred years, which explained the noble-looking buildings around us. She suggested while we stayed in the area we make an outing to drink the local mineral water at the Pitville Pump Room.

I agreed gladly. It would give me a chance to look for my parents’ killer away from the estate where I’d be conducting the investigation.

The carriage from the Harwin estate soon arrived and we climbed in. Well, everyone else climbed in. I was hauled inside by Sir Henry and the duke like a sack of flour. Sir Henry seemed to find it necessary to place a hand on my bottom below my corset and squeeze. Knowing he could feign innocence, there was nothing I could do about the insult.

If it had been Blackford, I wouldn’t have minded, but he would have treated me with respect. As it was, he’d climbed into the carriage first to lift me from above. After we were settled and began our journey, I made a point of looking out the windows on both sides. “I’ve not been here before. It’s a lovely area, isn’t it?”

“And a wealthy area with royal connections,” the duke replied.

Somewhere in this town was my parents’ killer. I hoped I’d glimpse him entering a home or a shop where I could return later and question the occupants, but he was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, I watched the town quickly disappear and the rolling countryside spread out before us.

Lord Harwin’s country home was a massive block of stone, added on to during different periods. We were greeted at the top of an imposing set of entrance stairs by his lordship and ladyship, a couple amazingly alike in their appearance. Both had dark hair liberally sprinkled with gray, untroubled blue eyes, and thin lips curved up in a smile of greeting.

I had made use of both a stone railing and the duke’s arm to wince my way up the steps to curtsy before my hosts. Both of my hosts’ jaws dropped in shock. “You’ve been hurt,” they said in unison.

“A curricle nearly knocked her down in front of the train station,” Blackford growled.

“Tewes’s younger son. The boy is a terror with that old curricle of his grandfather’s. He’s already run over one of Knightdale’s hunting dogs. He’ll come to a bad end if his father doesn’t take him in hand,” Lord Harwin said.

“You need to get off that foot,” Lady Harwin said. “Let’s go into the red drawing room.”

The red drawing room was nearby, relatively speaking. After walking down a hall wide enough to be a street, we entered a room three times the size of my shop. The entire house party seemed to have already gathered there, including the baron and Lady Bennett. They all stood as we entered, although more for the duke, who was taking most of my weight on my injured side, than for the rest of us.

I managed a curtsy for the room in general and then hobbled to the nearest sofa to collapse.

“Is it broken, you think?” Sir Henry asked. “That would be rotten luck.”

I rubbed my injured ankle. “I think it’s just bruised or sprained.”

“Let’s get you up to your room and I’ll have ice sent up. Is your lady’s maid a capable woman?”

I pictured Emma slicing a much larger man in one deft motion with her knife. “Very capable.”

“Good. We’ll hand you over to her until your limb has a chance to heal. If you should need a physician, have her let us know.”

Lady Harwin gave me a faint smile and I nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”

I rose unsteadily and had hopped two steps when Blackford muttered, “Oh, good grief,” and swept me up in his arms. He strode out of the room to a chorus of gasps, including mine. My heart boomed in my chest. This was the most romantic thing I’d ever experienced.

Phyllida hurried after us, climbing the long staircase. “I’ll show you where her room is, Duke.”

“While you’re at it, you might tell me how Georgina will carry out this investigation while holed up in her room,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Are you angry?” I asked, my lovely fantasy of being carried off by Blackford dissolving into aristocratic dust on the antique Persian carpets.

“Yes.”

“This isn’t my fault. Who knew that young lord would speed through heavy traffic?”

“We’re not here to find your parents’ killer. We’re here to stop naval blueprints from going overseas.” I thought his teeth would crack from snapping out words with such violence.

“Now I’m here for both.” One investigation was as important as the other for me. Really, finding my parents’ killer was the more important. But it’s hard to appear decisive and in control when you’re being carried like a baby.

Phyllida opened a dark wooden door like any other on the corridor and the duke strode in, dumping me on the bed. Emma, hanging up a gown, spun around with widened eyes.

“Do something with your foolish mistress while I try to salvage our investigation.” Blackford nodded to Emma, bowed to Phyllida, and then stomped from the room without a glance at me.

Emma blinked. “What happened?”

I brought her up to date, pausing only when a maid brought in a sack of ice wrapped in a towel. The cold numbed the pain enough that I soon tried to put weight on my foot. That turned out to be a bad idea.

Phyllida ordered me back to bed with a regal glare. This investigation was bringing out all the training she’d received as a child. How long had it been since she’d needed the protection living with Emma and me provided? I knew she could never go back to cheerfully cooking our meals and dealing with cleaners and laundresses. What would she do after we found out who’d killed her cousin? Wherever she went, I would miss her terribly.

“Emma and I will have to do the investigating in your place. Stay in bed and keep the ice on your leg. And please, heal quickly. We’ll need you to assist us tomorrow.” Phyllida swept from the room.

“I’ll bring your dinner up on a tray. In the meantime, keep your foot elevated.” Emma hung up the last of the dresses and readied me for bed.

I willingly let her take off my dress and unlace my corset. “What will you do?”

“I’ll keep an eye on the baron’s man, although that’s going to be hard. They keep the female staff well segregated from the men in the attics.”

“Is it hot and stuffy upstairs?” I felt guilty leaving her with all the investigating work and the chores of a lady’s maid while I lay uselessly in this huge, cool, overly decorated room.

“It’s not bad at all.” Emma helped me put on my nightgown, plaited my hair, handed me a book from my luggage, and then left.

I sat on the bed, pounding my fist into the pillow. I had much to accomplish and no way to leave the room. My throbbing ankle was holding me prisoner.

I
was laid up, isolated from the investigation and everyone in the house. Since I couldn’t investigate, I could read with a clear conscience. I’d brought
The Ruined Castle
by Mrs. Hepplewhite. I loved a good gothic story as much as my customers did.

After a while, I heard noises on that floor of the mansion, telling me the others were dressing for dinner. Now would be the time to post someone on the main floor to see who was sneaking around. If I were trying to get ship drawings out of the country, this would be a good time to meet with my confederates. Everyone else, master and servant, would be busy with their own tasks.

And here I sat, on the bed in my nightgown, unable to walk around freely.

A tentative tap on my door made my heart leap with joy. Someone to question. “Come in.”

My hostess walked in, already dressed in ropes of diamonds and pearls over an expansive bosom. “Has everything been done to make you comfortable?”

“Yes, Lady Harwin. And the room is lovely. Thank you for being so kind.” Actually, “opulent” was a better word for the decor. I wondered if the reds that dominated the wallpaper, rugs, and bed coverings said anything about what she thought of my character.

“Anything for the duke.” She glanced around. “Where is your maid?”

“She’s also Lady Phyllida’s lady’s maid. She’s probably helping her dress for dinner.”

“What an odd custom. Sharing a lady’s maid.”

“We’re two single ladies living together. It suits us.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Both of you single?”

Blast. I’d made a mistake on something Lady Harwin would immediately notice. Widows could have affairs. Single ladies couldn’t. She looked at me suspiciously.

“My husband is dead and I’m without male guidance. Lady Phyllida has never married. We both feel a little adrift, two solitary women.” I smiled at her. “I should have used the word ‘solitary’ rather than ‘single.’”

She looked down her nose at me. “Indeed you should. It gives the wrong impression otherwise.”

“I don’t want to do that. My apologies.” I brought the conversation around to my interests abruptly. “There seem to be a large number of peers living in the area.”

“There are three in the immediate area—us, Tewes, and Knightdale—plus a couple of baronets. Society is always lively when we’ve retired to our country estates.”

“That is fortunate. The countryside must be dull when there’s no one to visit.”

“Indeed. We’re having a ball tomorrow night. I hope you’ll be able to get downstairs by then.”

“So do I, Lady Harwin. I understand that young Mr. Tewes is responsible for my injury. I’d hate to miss your excellent hospitality on account of his youthful foolishness.”

“I don’t believe Lord Charles Wilson, which is his correct address, is the only one at fault in this accident. Running out into the street is a dangerous occupation.” She gave that aristocratic sniff I was growing weary of.

Someone had already told her the circumstances by which I’d received my injury. “The roadway could have been easily crossed if it weren’t for the presence of a young man speeding through town whipping his horses.” The haughty displeasure I showed wasn’t all an act. I had work to do. And the first thing was to learn the guest lists at these house parties. “I feel terrible that I haven’t had the opportunity to meet your other guests. I’m sure all of them are fascinating.”

“Besides the group you came down with, there’s the Bishop of Wellston and his wife; two young ladies who are finishing their first season along with my daughter; the parents of one of the young ladies, Lord and Lady Stewart; and two classmates of my son from Oxford. The Stewarts stopped here on their way back to Scotland, and we’ll be visiting them in September.”

“How lovely.” None of them likely to be after the drawings. But there might be more people in the area who wanted to get their hands on the ship’s blueprints than just von Steubfeld. More people with a secret agenda than just Sir Henry. And my parents’ killer was somewhere nearby.

We nodded to each other and Lady Harwin swept from my bedroom in a rustle of taffeta and lace. I’d just settled back on the bed when I heard another knock. “Come.”

Lady Rosamond Peters opened the door a few inches and smiled at me. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Not at all. I’d love a diversion.”

She strolled into the room, elegantly attired in green silk and emeralds. “Sir Henry and I were thinking. Since you don’t remember your father’s friend’s name, perhaps we could ask around the neighborhood and see if anyone remembers him or you. What was your maiden name?”

Blast. I didn’t need them messing about in either of my investigations. “It’s really not necessary. It’s not that important.”

“It was important enough that you were injured trying to overtake the man.”

“Through my own stupidity and the carelessness of that driver.”

“Nevertheless, Sir Henry and I will see if we can’t find the man. What was your maiden name?”

I couldn’t tell her Fenchurch. “Smith.”

Her face fell. “Oh, dear. There must be hundreds of officers in India named Smith.”

I smiled. “Yes, it’s quite hopeless. Thank you for thinking of me, though. And thank you for the visit. You look lovely. Enjoy dinner, and tell me all about it later. That way I can attend vicariously.”

“What are you reading?”

“The latest Mrs. Hepplewhite. Gothic, but quite enjoyable.”

“I’ve read two of hers. Now that I know she has something new out, I’ll have to stop by a bookshop when we return to London.”

I wanted to recommend mine but resisted. Keeping both halves of my life separate was necessary for my safety. And I didn’t want thieves, traitors, and spies rendezvousing in my bookshop.

“They’ll send your dinner up on a tray?” Lady Peters asked.

“I expect my maid will bring it shortly.” Along with any news from the servants’ hall. I hoped Emma had found a way to get the staff talking while playing her role.

“You certainly look lovely. Perhaps I’ll have a tray sent up here, too,” said a familiar male voice from the doorway.

Despite the role I was supposed to play as Blackford’s lover, I felt my cheeks heat at his impertinence. “Please do. We could dine à deux.”

Lady Peters laughed a tinkling sound. “That would certainly send tongues to wagging, but it sounds so romantic.”

The duke’s face froze in shock for an instant before he recovered and said, “It does, but I’m afraid duty calls. There’s a matter in the House of Lords that will require Lord Harwin’s vote, whether Parliament manages to meet again this year or has to wait until next. I need to convince him where his priorities lie.”

“I hope by tomorrow evening I’ll be able to join you downstairs. In the meantime, I’ll have to be desolate without you.”

Blackford shot me a look that said
Don’t overplay your hand.
Then he smiled. “Georgina, dear, I can’t last until tomorrow evening without seeing you. Perhaps I’ll see you sooner rather than later.”

“That would suit me well, Your Grace.”

“There’s no need of a chaperone here, I see.” With an arch smile, Lady Peters curtsied to us and sauntered out of the room.

The duke shut the door behind her and walked over to the bed. My heart beat harder with every step closer. I knew he wouldn’t do anything. He was dressed for dinner. Impeccably, regally, perfectly dressed. Still, a certain part of me wanted him to see me as a lover, an ally, a duchess.

“How long until your ankle will let you get around?” he murmured.

“I’m going to make it to dinner and the ball tomorrow if I have to crawl there,” I assured him.

He glowered down at me. “Good. Because you are here for one reason and one reason only. To find the naval blueprints before they leave the country. We’ll deal with this acquaintance of your parents once we accomplish our most important task. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I hissed back at him. I understood. I just didn’t agree.

The duke had been gone about thirty seconds when Sir Henry entered my room without knocking. “I made sure the duke had left before I came in. I don’t want to ruin your chances with a rich patron.”

“How thoughtful of you.” I gave him a dark look. “You can leave now.”

He walked toward the bed. “We have business to discuss.”

I pulled the covers a little higher as I watched him.

When he reached me, he grabbed my lower jaw in one hand. “What was that stunt about today? Because if you think you can lie about here and get away with not carrying out a job for me, think again.”

I shoved his hand away. “My ankle is bruised. I hope to be walking by tomorrow night. Don’t worry. I’ll do what you want me to do.”

“You’d better. Because a few words from me will ruin you.”

I’d had bigger, stronger men try to bully me. Sir Henry didn’t frighten me. Once we retrieved those blueprints, he wouldn’t matter anymore. “I understood that the first four times you said it. I’m not stupid.”

“Don’t forget it.” He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me out of bed. My feet hit the floor, one of them excruciatingly, and I slumped down, clutching the sheets. I managed to balance on my good leg before I hit the floor and held my other foot up as I stared at him, gasping with pain.

“Good. You’re not pretending.” He marched out of the room, leaving me to wonder exactly what it was he wanted me to do. I was very glad Clara hadn’t married him.

I climbed back under the covers, slid my ankle onto the icy towel again, and picked up the novel by Mrs. Hepplewhite. I began to read until my lack of sleep during the preceding nights caught up with me.

When I awoke, night had fallen and cooler air came in the open window. I sat up in bed and listened to my stomach growl. After a few minutes, I stopped being annoyed about my stomach and started worrying about Emma. What if she’d followed the baron’s man and been caught? I knew she carried her knife, but she could have been taken by surprise and overpowered.

Snelling was in the area. He’d killed Phyllida’s cousin Clara. He could murder again.

When I heard the soft knock and saw the door open, I nearly jumped off the bed. “Emma?”

“No, it’s me. Phyllida. What’s wrong?”

“Emma never brought my supper tray, and I’m worried—”

Phyllida stepped back into the hall. “Duke.”

Blackford entered the room behind her.

“Emma never returned with my supper tray. Where is she?” I controlled my voice with effort.

“She’s not waiting for me in my room, either,” Phyllida added.

“I’ll have your tray sent up and send a note to Sumner in the village to start a search there. Lady Phyllida, if you could ask one of the maids to find Emma and send her to you, that will begin a search here. What’s this?” Blackford bent over and picked up something from the floor near the door.

A note. He opened it and glanced at it before growling, “Someone’s onto you.”

I held out my hand. He walked the paper over to me so I could read it.

Georgia Fenchurch, you’ve been foolish. Now you and the Archivist Society members here will die.

Their deaths, and yours, will be your fault.

I stared into his dark eyes reflecting light from the one gas lamp burning in the room. “This is the third warning I’ve received. The first two were in Mayfair.”

“Warning?” Phyllida gasped.

“The only one who knew was Emma,” I told him.

“Sir Henry?” Blackford looked like he’d rip the man apart.

“No. He’s using what he believes to be Georgina’s secrets against her. He wouldn’t if he knew the truth.”

“Who, then?”

“I don’t know. And now Emma’s missing.” I gave his hand a squeeze. He squeezed back, and I felt a little relieved.

“I’ll find her.” The duke bowed to us and left the room.

“When did you last see her?” I asked Phyllida.

“She dressed me for dinner and then said she was going to the kitchen to get your tray. Goodness, Georgia, that was hours ago.”

I didn’t correct her use of my real name. I was worried, too.

“This note?” she asked, apparently afraid to say any more.

“Someone has known almost from the start that I’m Georgia, not Georgina. This person doesn’t want the Archivist Society involved.”

“Let’s go home.” She walked in a small circle, wringing her hands.

“No. Clara was brave, and she’d expect us to be brave to find her killer.” When she sank down on the bed, I took her hand and gave her the same squeeze Blackford had given me.

We sat together until my tray arrived. I hadn’t eaten all day, and I was famished. As I stuffed my face, Phyllida twisted the rings on her fingers. “She must be somewhere. Perhaps she’s following the blueprints,” Phyllida kept murmuring.

“Emma can take care of herself.” I didn’t know which one of us I was reassuring.

The maid came back to return the tray to the kitchen and I convinced her to act as Phyllida’s maid for this evening. I also learned she was the one who’d turned on the gaslight near the bed in case I should awaken, which meant Emma must have been gone since before it grew dark.

Phyllida took the girl back to her room and I sat alone, listening to the creaks of light steps and murmured voices coming from under the door and through the open window.