Страница 28 из 68
“Victoria fought with Elizabeth even more than she did with Margaret. It sounds terrible to say now, but Victoria only got along with men.”
“Why? Did Victoria like to read and discuss politics and economics?” Elizabeth certainly didn’t. She hadn’t so much as glanced at the books in my shop as she walked by. If Victoria was intellectually curious, she would have found Elizabeth dull.
Lady Julia gave a deep-throated laugh. “No. Only men appreciated Victoria’s flirtations. She hadn’t a thought in her head.”
And the duke was going to marry her? He would have quickly grown tired of her. Since Victoria didn’t die of strangulation, I was confident the duke wasn’t her murderer. “How long did you stay at the Dutton-Cox house?”
“Perhaps another ten minutes after her father arrived with the Duke of Blackford and Nicholas Drake.”
“They all came together?”
“Yes. Apparently, the duke had received an anonymous letter charging—let’s just say that Drake was involved in irregularities. The three men had been arguing about it when the message arrived and they all came back to the Dutton-Cox house.”
Lady Julia Waxpool shook her head. “When the doctor arrived and Victoria began vomiting, we left the room. Margaret stayed with her brother across the hallway from where Elizabeth stood next to her father. There was quite a lot of arguing going on, and her mother was wailing the house down. All I could think was poor Victoria, to be ill in that atmosphere.”
“And later? When she died?”
“I had already left. Victoria was known to have a weak heart, but I didn’t think I’d never see her again. I guess between the cold air on her lungs and the illness, her heart couldn’t take any more. When we met a few days later, Margaret and I agreed, we never expected Victoria to die.”
Chapter Nine
BY the next day, Emma had convinced me to question the Duke of Blackford again. I took the coward’s way out and sent him a message. On my best writing paper, I asked him the questions Emma had raised the day before. I didn’t ask the questions I most wanted answered. What was he hiding? And where did his sister and his late fiancée enter into the troubles Drake was now facing?
By noontime, a message was returned in a dark, bold hand saying, Come for tea today and I will tell you. The message was unsigned, but it was on the letterhead of the Duke of Blackford.
“Too bad it’s raining,” Emma said when I showed her the reply. “What do you wear to take tea with a duke?”
I looked at the smock I had worn over my clothes while giving the office a good cleaning that morning. I was filthy. I shouldn’t have chosen that day to straighten out the back room, but it was a task I’d avoided for too long. “Not this. And I’ll need to bathe.”
“I’ll take over the shop for the afternoon.” Emma started to turn away and then faced me again. “Don’t wash your hair. There’s no time to dry it. And pin it up carefully when you bathe, or you’ll catch your death of cold outside.”
“It’s a good thing I washed it for the di
Emma nodded and then we both burst out laughing and hugged. After she brushed off the dirt I’d transferred onto her, Emma said, “Tea with a duke. You’ll have to tell me every last detail.”
I promised I would.
It was nearly two when I gave up on the office, said good-bye to Emma, and went around to the entrance to our apartment block near the shops. Our building was fairly new, with modern conveniences, but there were no internal stairs from shop to living space that had been so handy when I was a child. Those stairs were something I missed until I went to our cozy rooms and enjoyed our instant hot water and indoor plumbing.
I started the gas-powered geyser on the tap to heat the water and then Phyllida helped me undress. When I told her I was having tea with a duke, she only nodded.
“Anyone I know?”
“The Duke of Blackford.”
“It would be his father that I remember. The former duke was on the lookout for a replacement for the current duke’s mother. He chose a lovely, sweet-tempered young lady. I wonder how she fared, being married to an older, rather cross man.”
“They had a daughter.” I was in investigative mode and I didn’t stop to think before I asked personal questions. “Are you sorry you never married or had children?”
“And put more children within reach of my brother?” She shuddered. “Besides, I have you and Emma for my family, without all the bother of childhood illnesses or hiring na
She gave me such a smile I was glad I pried. I stepped out of my stockings and went in my shift to the small room where the mahogany-edged tub sat. I turned on the tap and let the steaming water fill the tub as the geyser gurgled and hissed.
I soaked in the tub in peace until the water began to cool. When I emerged, ready to dress, Phyllida was waiting to help. “Does the duke know you run a bookshop?”
“Yes.”
She gave a last tug on my corset strings. “Then I’d suggest something businesslike. Your best shirtwaist is freshly ironed. Perhaps with your gray outfit.”
I nodded. “What do you think the duke wants? I sent him a note with some questions. He could have sent back a reply. I wasn’t asking anything personal.”
The room was silent as she pulled my petticoat and skirt over my head. “Perhaps he wants to hire you and the Archivists to find that missing man.”
“Perhaps.” I considered the possibility while she did up my buttons.
“How old is the duke?”
“Mid to late thirties, I’d guess.”
“And he doesn’t have a family? I’d say he’s interviewing you for the position of duchess. Or something like.” Her voice turned dry. “He hasn’t had any reason to get the wrong impression, has he?”
“I should hope not.” But his questions about my virginity still left me uneasy.
I looked prosperous in my newest white blouse with a gray skirt and jacket. Emma nodded her agreement when I entered the empty shop, though she frowned at my hair. With a few extra pins, she gave me a tidy coiffure. I could only hope it would stay that way as I strolled from Grosvenor Square toward Park Lane. The drizzle had let up and the wind died down, but with it, fog had settled onto the city once more.
By the time I reached the duke’s residence, the air was that peculiar yellowish gray and smelled vaguely of sulfur. People and carriages sprang out of the cloud and then disappeared again. All in all, an ominous, depressing day.
The butler took my wrap and escorted me to a small parlor in the back. If he remembered me from my first visit to Blackford House, his ma
The view from the window of the duke’s garden might be lovely on a clear day; today it was hidden behind an impenetrable film. A silent maid carried in a tea tray and set it on the low table by the sofa.
The duke arrived a minute later and found me still standing near the fire, looking about the pretty room and wondering what I, a middle-class bookshop owner, was doing there. He gestured for me to sit. I chose the sofa; he chose a wing chair. “My stepmother decorated this room.”