The Counterfeit Lady

“We all do that if our hands are occupied.”

“He does that even if his hands are free.”

Sir Wallace squinted in concentration. “It must be Mr. Wolf. He has that habit.”

“I was told your two guests were Count Farkas and Mr. van der Lik.”

“Formally, he’s Count Farkas. In England, he often goes by Mr. Wolf. He finds it simpler when doing business.”

“Is that a translation of his name from his native tongue?” Blackford asked.

“Yes. Hungarian. He’s a member of their nobility.”

The same name I’d heard from my South African contact. I had a name and a nationality for the man who killed my parents. I could have cheered. Remembering that I mustn’t destroy my persona, I asked, “Do you know where Mr. Wolf is headed?”

“To the continent. Where, exactly, he didn’t tell me. There’s a Gutenberg Bible he’s pursuing.” Sir Wallace shrugged. “He’s been seeking it for years. I hope he gets it. What a trophy.”

“I’d hoped to renew his acquaintance, but I guess that’s not to be. If you hear from him, please tell him I was hoping to speak to him.”

“Where should he get in touch with you?”

I glanced at the duke and smiled. “Have him write to me at Blackford House.”

*   *   *

UNFORTUNATELY, THE DUKE had already agreed to stay until the morning, which meant Phyllida, Emma, and I had to. Our house party was joined for di

I looked down the long, crystal- and white-linen-covered table at Blackford. He was seated between Lady Harwin and Lady Ormond. Two middle-aged women wearing jewels and dour expressions. The picture of his wife in twenty years. Neither woman looked capable of joyous laughter, frightening exploits, or wild passion.

I’d never be a duchess.

Blackford didn’t appear to be enjoying their company. I couldn’t hide a small smile of satisfaction.

Lady Be

I went for the blandest explanation. “I’m enjoying the food, the conversation, everything about this di

“Too bad you’re leaving in the morning. My sister and her husband, the Viscount Chattelsfield, will be here in the afternoon for tea. You could have reminisced about Singapore with them.”

I smiled as if that were a wonderful idea. Thank goodness I’d be back in London by then. “What a shame. Perhaps I’ll be introduced to them another time.” But not if I could help it.

I was leaving in the morning for stifling London and my own comfortable, middle-class life, my friends, and my bookshop. I could hardly wait. But I’d leave a little piece of my heart behind.

When the ladies retired to the parlor after di

“Fine, thank you. I’ve quite recovered.”

“That was a foolish thing to do, to race out into the street. Whatever caused you to do that?”

She wore a sly smile as if she hoped the duke and I had quarreled. “I thought I saw an old friend of my father’s. I wanted to let him know I was in the area.”

“So did you get in contact with this—old friend?”

“No. I saw him at the ball last night, and then went with Ranleigh, I mean Blackford, to the home where he was staying. Unfortunately, the gentleman had been called away in the morning, and I missed him.” I glanced around the room. No one looked in our direction, but no one else was speaking. Apparently their curiosity about Georgina Monthalf hadn’t been satisfied.

I pla

“How unfortunate. And after your clever search of Lady Harwin’s main floor looking for stolen documents.”

I stared at her, wondering how much she had guessed. “Thank you.”

“The Duke of Blackford must like clever women. Of course, he liked Lady Peters, and I’m now told she was a spy.”

“I liked Lady Peters. I’m sorry she killed a man and endangered England’s naval superiority.”

“I feel so sorry for her son. Losing both his parents so young,” a woman’s voice said.

“I know his father’s sister. She, her husband, and their children love that little boy. They’ve been raising him as much as his mother has,” another upper-class woman’s voice said.

“Sounds like Lady Peters was engaged in men’s work to me. Aren’t you afraid being clever will make you too masculine to attract a duke?” Lady Ormond’s smile was pure venom.

“Cleverness isn’t masculine. I can think of several married ladies who are clever.” I turned to Lady Harwin. “I’ve had a wonderful time in your lovely home. I’m so sorry events ruined your delightful party.”

“Not at all.” Lady Harwin gave me a cheery grin. “I’ve never known such excitement. I can’t wait to tell my friends about what happened. They’ll all want to come and visit the scene of murder and espionage. Our terrace will be the envy of all.”

“Oh, Celeste, you’d be too ashamed,” Lady Ormond said.

“Nonsense, Mildred. It was almost like a play. The events happened here, but we didn’t know the dead man. He was a burglar, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” I answered when no one else would.

“Well, there, you see? Nothing to do with us. Events just came and happened here.” She smiled gleefully around the room. “Such excitement. And the good and loyal subjects of the crown triumphed. Thank you, Mrs. Monthalf, for bringing us such a diversion.”

I needed to disabuse her of that idea immediately. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring you anything. Lady Peters and the burglar brought the excitement here. I just went on a scavenger hunt and found the missing plans. Nothing you couldn’t have done.”

“But you were the one who saved England. You, a gentlewoman. Makes me proud to know you.”

“But no more likely to become a duchess,” Lady Ormond sniffed.

“A duchess? Of course not. But perhaps the wife of a baronet. Or one of these modern industrialists you read about. I’d imagine they’d want a wife with spunk,” Lady Harwin said.

The aristocrats present had considered me for duchess material and found me lacking. I wondered what they’d say if they knew how we’d deceived them. The person I couldn’t deceive was myself. I knew I could never be a duchess. But, oh, how I wanted to be.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

WE returned to London the next day and dropped Phyllida off to oversee the packing up of our borrowed town house. Then we dropped Emma off at Fenchurch’s Books, and Blackford and I traveled on to Newgate Prison to talk to Ken Gattenger.

He had already been taken to the visitors’ room by the time we marched down the hallways, our steps ringing in the stone passageways. He stared at us but didn’t speak until we sat across from him. “Well?”

“The blueprints have been recovered and are back in the Admiralty records room. The records room clerk on the German payroll has been apprehended. Despite my doubts, Sir Henry Stanford appears to have had no hand in the theft or the death of your wife,” Blackford said.