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I guessed it likely Drake thought the viscount had called his bluff, and, as he had with Waxpool and the Naylards, Drake simply gave up. “So your husband doesn’t know about Drake’s efforts to blackmail you or the existence of the letters?”
“No.”
“You’ve had a lucky escape.” And I could discount the viscount as a suspect in Drake’s attempted kidnapping.
“So you won’t bother my mother anymore?”
“One more thing. So much of this investigation has been about your sister Victoria and her death. What was she like? You must have known her better than most people.”
For the first time since entering my shop, Elizabeth smiled. “After all this time, I’ve forgotten most of what we fought about and just remember her beauty.”
“She seems to have been very popular but not well liked.”
“Yes. I was her younger sister, always ordered around by her. And Mummy always took her side. She ordered our brother around until he escaped to school. She and Margaret Ranleigh fought constantly because Victoria tried to tell her what to do and what to wear, and Margaret would have none of it. Victoria even went so far as to tell her that after she married her brother, Margaret would have to do exactly as Victoria said, or she’d have the duke cut off her allowance and keep her home in Blackford Castle.”
“I imagine Margaret didn’t like hearing those words.”
“Not at all. If Margaret had stopped and thought for a minute, she’d have realized the duke would never have stepped into the middle of that fight. But Margaret was not one to stop and think, and Victoria loved to trick people into doing what she wanted.”
Elizabeth was now leaning on the counter, willing to tell me all the gossip now the danger that her husband would learn of her indiscretion had passed. I decided to press a little more. “What was Victoria like as a person? What did she enjoy? What did she avoid?”
“Victoria loved a good time, to be the center of attention, to have the newest gown and the most admirers. She loved sweets and hated to walk and was already starting to get plump. Mummy was always after her about that, but she’d dump sugar and milk into her tea until there might as well not be any tea in the cup. The duke would have quickly found himself saddled with a fat wife.”
The bell over the door jingled and Elizabeth jumped and looked around guiltily as Emma returned from her afternoon with Lady Westover. The viscountess looked back at me and whispered, “I trust you won’t repeat anything I’ve told you in confidence.”
“Your secrets are safe with me.”
She nodded and strolled out the door without a glance at any of the books. For all her interest, the shop could have been empty.
Chapter Sixteen
EMMA, all blond elegance and aristocratic reserve, lifted one eyebrow and watched Viscountess Dalrymple leave. Her childhood in an East End criminal gang had made her an actress far beyond my talents.
“The lecture was interesting,” she a
“She actually said that?”
Emma giggled. “That girl is completely in love with herself. She gossips with abandon, probably shops with as much glee, and the only letters she writes are to accept or decline invitations and the thank-you notes she moans over having to compose afterward. She says she hates to write. Thinking makes her squint, and that will put lines on her face before her time.”
“Really?” Daisy Hancock sounded incredibly vapid.
“Really. She loves balls, has never read a book, and proclaimed the lecture a crashing bore because there were so few young men attending. She doesn’t commit anything to writing and her behavior in public is exactly what you’d expect from a debutante.”
“I can’t see Drake blackmailing someone like her. She’d be too careful to create a scandal.” But we’d been told Lord Hancock was one of Drake’s victims. “So it’s the uncle, not the ward, who’s Drake’s victim.”
“Perhaps one of his experiments went too far? Daisy said he spends all his time in his laboratory at Chelling Meadows, developing new weapons for our colonial troops.”
“You got on well with her.” I wasn’t surprised. Emma made friends with everyone.
“I did. I pretended to be a bluestocking who’s trying to convince her father to let her go to university. No competition, but keenly interested in everything she had to say.”
“Did she say anything else about her uncle or the laboratory?”
“A few years ago, she tried to get into his laboratory. Out of boredom, I’d guess. She never was able to get the key away from him, and she never found another way in. She describes it as a fortress. She also complained he’s in a hurry to marry her off, but she wants another couple of seasons.”
“Money difficulties?” I guessed.
“Maybe. Or maybe he just wants the silly goose off his hands.”
I nodded and began to turn away when I remembered my news. “The Duke of Blackford was by today while you were gone. We’re to go tonight to Lady Westover’s after we close up to practice wearing our jewels for the ball. Our real jewels.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Is that wise?”
“The duke doesn’t think anyone will go after the jewels. And he doesn’t expect us to guard them.”
She looked at me, comprehension dawning. “He has something pla
“Better us than a real aristocrat.” I heard the grim tone in my voice.
“So, if someone will be after us for us and not for the jewels, who are we supposed to be? Surely not the staff of a bookshop or members of the Archivist Society.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “We’ll have to ask him tonight when we reach Lady Westover’s. While we walk around unarmed and wearing jewels, he’ll be armed to the teeth. He’s appearing as a highwayman.”
Emma nodded. “Appropriate.”
The shop bell rang, and from that moment we were both kept busy with customers until closing. I locked up the proceeds for the day while Emma straightened the shop and then stood waiting by the front door. I’d nearly reached her when she said, “Forgetting something?”
I’d pulled out copies of the newest novels that came in that day for Phyllida and left them in the office. She’d never forgive me if I left them behind, considering she thought of them as her special perk for living with two booksellers. “Thank you. Go on without me. Tell Phyllida I’ll be right behind you, but don’t tell her what I forgot.”
Emma nodded and left the shop. I went back into the office and hurriedly grabbed up the thin volumes of popular fiction featuring damsels in distress and brave heroes. Too hurriedly. I knocked a stack of papers on the floor. I piled them back on the desk, promising myself to organize them tomorrow.
Turning off the electric lights, I looked around the dim shop for a moment with a sigh of contentment. We’d made a little money, there’d been no disasters, and we may have made some progress on the Archivist Society investigation. Another successful day.
I stepped out of the shop, locked the door, and headed for the flat. The night was turning foggy, but it was still early enough to use our shortcut. I had just turned the corner and taken a few steps into the alley when a hand reached out and grabbed me.