The Counterfeit Lady

Laughing with relief, I unfolded the papers. While I couldn’t understand them, I could make out the outline of a ship on the top sheet. I swung around, the papers in one hand, and froze where I stood.

Rosamond Peters stood before me, a pistol in her hand and her bag tucked under her arm. Her gun was smaller than the baron’s, but it looked just as lethal.

“Lady Peters. This isn’t what this appears to be.”

“On the contrary, it is. This appears to be the second time you’ve taken something that belongs to me.”

My expression would have been comical in a cheerier situation. “You? Why would you want this?”

“Not for myself, you understand. For France.”

At Lord Fleetwhite’s di

“You didn’t, either.”

“Because I thought you were my friend.” And then I remembered another incident. “The hatbox the thief wanted was yours. That’s how you pass messages.”

“That’s one way.” She smiled, but it was a colder, less friendly smile than I’d seen on her face before.

“Why did the thief take Lady Phyllida’s hatbox instead of yours?”

“He was hired by my contact—”

“The jeweler Henry at Fortier’s.”

She smiled but didn’t admit it. “—to take my hatbox, but he didn’t know what I looked like. He grabbed the first box from Gautier’s that he saw.”

“You knew that Baron von Steubfeld pla

“Everyone was busy making arrangements to come here, so there had to have been something valuable attracting all this attention. I came along to find out what it was.” She walked toward me.

For once I obeyed my cowardly feet and took three steps back, frantically refolding the blueprints. Then I began to edge around the end table and the sofa.

“Please, Georgina. I don’t want to shoot you. But I will to get those drawings back.”

“Back? You were the one to put them in the cigar box?”

“Of course. I came down to retrieve them while the police searched my room. Unfortunately, you got here first.”

“Then who broke Snelling’s neck?”

“I did.”

“You know how to do that? I’m impressed.” I stopped, stu

She chose that moment to lunge toward me to grab the blueprints.

I jumped back, clutching them to my chest. “Did you strike down Sir Henry?”

“He told me he’d figured out my secret.”

“Which one?” I took two more steps away from her, backing up toward the door onto the terrace. The door was unlocked. If I could open the door fast enough and get outside, it would buy me time. Open the door faster than a bullet?

“That I spy for France.” She matched me, step for step.

“You won’t shoot me, Lady Peters. There are too many people around.”

“But none to see who fired the pistol. I shoot you, grab the drawings, drop the gun, and slip outside. I’ll come in another way and join the group who comes ru

I swung around a chair and backed along the far side of the room toward the door standing open into the hallway. “There’s a footman standing guard on Snelling’s body on the terrace. He would hear the gunshot and see you leaving.”

“Then I shall have to open the door and call to him that a madman is shooting at us and to help. You won’t be in any position to disagree with me.”

Her plan would work. The only thing I could do was try to reach the hallway before she fired. Once there, I’d certainly be in sight of someone. I kept backing up.

She raised her pistol.

I covered my chest with the blueprints, hoping Rosamond Peters didn’t want a bullet hole damaging the warship drawings.

“Stop right there.”

I’d never been so glad to hear Blackford’s voice.

“You’re unarmed, Duke.” Lady Peters glanced from Blackford to me, calculating her chances, which had suddenly turned against her.

“But the man standing behind you isn’t.”

The gaslights wavered in the breeze from the open door to the garden. I looked past Rosamond to see Fogarty in the doorway.

She lowered her pistol. “Damn you, Georgina. How did you know to look here for the blueprints?”

“I followed you downstairs. When I found Snelling, you had disappeared, but I knew you hadn’t gone far.”

“I didn’t think anyone would suspect me.”

“I didn’t. For the longest time I thought it was Lark Be

She laughed, but the sound was brittle. “I showed my hand too soon.”

“You said Lady Be

“I lied to you, Georgina.”

I hoped she was sorry. I was. I’d liked her.

Once Fogarty had taken the small pistol from her hand, she gave me a searching look. “You’ve not given away all my secrets, have you?”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“Thank you.”

Leave it to the duke to put things together at that moment. “Lady Peters is the one who had the affair with Ken Gattenger.”

“Yes, Your Grace. She had an affair that Clara found out about the day she was murdered. They were his letters to Lady Peters that Clara burned in the fire that evening.”

“Is that all of her secrets?” Blackford asked.

“Yes. Of course. Aren’t spying and a sexual liaison enough for one woman?”

Rosamond Peters gave me a grateful look.

His mother may have killed a man, but there was no reason a young boy should pay for her sins with the loss of his name and title.

The police raced in and took Lady Peters into a hesitant custody. She said, “Duke, would you contact the French ambassador for me, please?”

He bowed as she was led away.

Only then could I allow myself a gasp. I smacked Blackford in the chest with the blueprints and left the room to go upstairs and sleep for what little was left of this night. I’d had my fill of aristocrats.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I awoke to sunlight streaming in my window. “What time is it?” I mumbled.

“One in the afternoon. You’ve slept through everything, including the local vicar and the Bishop of Wellston discussing whether you should have been awakened for Sunday services. The duke forbade it.” Phyllida smiled. “But now the duke has sent me to wake you. He said you have an appointment this afternoon.”

My eyes flew open and I sat straight upright in the bed. “I’ll need Emma to help me dress. Ring the bell for her, will you?”

“She’s in with the police, giving them the official line. You’re stuck with me.” Phyllida was fairly gloating.

“Well, help me, then.” I pulled off my nightgown and yanked on a shift, rolled my stockings up my legs, and then grabbed my corset. “What is the official line?”

“You went to your old friend, the duke, to ask for his help in proving Clara’s husband didn’t kill her. The duke learned about the missing blueprints for the new ship the Admiralty has ordered. When you had Gattenger draw a picture of the burglar, Blackford passed it around Scotland Yard. Once he was identified as Mick Snelling, the duke had him followed. When the burglar came here, Lord Harwin came to your aid by inviting you to his house party.”