The Royal Assassin (10 page)

“I've been Lady Daisy's governess for a year. I'm not really part of the household.”

“How is the duchess to work for?”

“All right. The duchess doesn't need a secretary this time of year. Why are you here?” I could hear the suspicion in her voice.

I turned to look at her and raised my eyebrows. “I've been teaching the princess English. Once she's left London, the duchess plans to work on a book on the history of English painting. I've been hired to help her with writing the book.” I put a hand on her arm. “Please don't tell anyone. The duchess doesn't want word of this to leak out.”

“Now, who would I know to tell? And why would I do such a thing? I'm not interested in other people's business.” She frowned as she turned away, and left my hand hanging in midair. “Please come back, Lady Daisy. We have more of your lesson to do.”

She rose then and said, “If you'll excuse me?” and walked off. When Daisy reached her, the governess led the girl by a grip on her arm into the house.

I followed, the beauty of the day dimmed. If the governess knew I was a fraud, who else had already seen through my disguise?

I found Princess Kira in the duchess's studio with the duchess, both of them hard at work on large canvases as they worked in companionable silence. Lady Raminoff sat knitting in a corner.

I stood where I could see both paintings. The duchess worked on a study of one of the servants doing mending, her gray gown and white apron at odds with the bright flowers on the table next to her and the open window in the background. Princess Kira worked on a bowl of fruit in the impressionist style. Around the bowl, she had painted a white cat curled up and licking one paw. She painted the cat from memory.

“Don't lurk,” the duchess said without looking at me.

“I need to have a word with you when you're available,” I told her and walked over to sit near Lady Raminoff.

“Have they found that dreadful Ivanov?” Lady Raminoff whispered in French.

“Not so far, but we now know he wasn't a guard sent by the tsar or his government.”

“Then who—oh, Lord, not an anarchist. It's a wonder we weren't all murdered in our beds!” Her voice rose into a squawk.

“I didn't tell you to alarm you. Only to let you know so if you spot him again, you can escape before he sees you. And tell the duchess where you saw him.” I hoped she'd have enough sense to report back and not get a case of the vapors at a critical moment.

She nodded. “I hope he's gone back to Russia and is never seen again.”

“But you're going back to Russia soon. Aren't you afraid if he goes back there, he'll be a danger at a later date?”

“We know how to deal with his type at home.” Her grim tone told me how Ivanov would be treated if he were caught in St. Petersburg. “The Okhrana will know what to do with him.”

“Okhrana?”

“The Russian secret police. The people who keep us safe from anarchists and revolutionaries. And terrible people like Ivanov.”

If the two sides kept attacking each other, sooner or later they'd
tear their country apart. I was glad British tradition allowed everyone to voice their opinions. Then I remembered the suffragettes and lost my feelings of superiority. But at least the suffragettes hadn't thrown any bombs yet.

“What are Kira and Nadia up to?” Lady Raminoff asked, giving me a sharp look.

“Visiting.”

“Kira must have been the one to drug my chocolate. Then Nadia came in and the two of them ran off in the middle of the night. That is hardly a social call.”

“What do you think they are doing?”

“Kira is a stupid girl, and Nadia is trying to disgrace the royal family. I asked you to find out what Kira is up to. Tell me.”

I gave her a dark look. “There's nothing to tell.”

Lady Raminoff glared at me before she turned to indicate Princess Kira and whispered, “She already knew English, didn't she?”

“You'd better ask her,” I replied.

“She knew. And you're here because you work for the British secret police. What do you call your Okhrana?”

My eyes widened at the thought of secret police in my country. We were better than that, weren't we? “We don't have secret police. We do have private citizens who assist the regular police and our government when there is a, uh, an unusual situation such as we have here.”

“What good would a mere girl be as protection against anarchists?”

I reached out and patted her arm. “Don't worry. There are a lot of people working very hard to keep you and Princess Kira safe.”

“But who,” Lady Raminoff asked, looking down at her knitting, “is going to save Kira from herself?”

The duchess put away her brush and paints. She rose from her chair and walked over while Lady Raminoff drew a little away from me to focus on her yarn. “Miss Peabody, you wanted a word?”

I rose. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Come with me.” I followed her downstairs to the morning room and we settled ourselves on facing chairs. She looked at me through narrowed eyes and said, “Now, what do you need?”

“You make it sound like I'm not the first person to ask for something this morning.”

She sighed and her whole body seemed to sag, although she still appeared as rigidly upright as you'd expect a duchess to be. “Princess Kira wants her sister to stay for a visit. Lady Raminoff wants protection provided by the police to keep her safe from Ivanov, who's going to murder her at his first opportunity. My husband does not want to return until this mess is cleared up. My daughter doesn't want a governess. My—”

“How long have you employed Miss Whitten as Lady Daisy's governess?”

The duchess appeared surprised at my question, but she considered a moment before answering. “She arrived a little after we came here for Easter. No, it must have been June. It was about the time Whitehall asked us to welcome Princess Kira into our home. Why?”

“Did she have good references?”

“Of course.”

“Did you check them?”

“Her most recent reference left for Australia. The father is first secretary to the governor there, and the whole family left. I
haven't been able to reach them yet. And I know her other reference. They moved to Scotland and the wife died. I never followed up. Why?” She peered into my eyes. “You're frightening me.”

“I suppose I'm being overly cautious about anyone new to your household. Nothing more specific than that.” I didn't think I should tell the duchess that her daughter's governess had lied to me. At least, not yet.

“A
RE
you going to have Nadia stay here?” I asked the duchess.

“Kira's sister? I suppose so. Kira's maid will have to take care of her. My household is stretched thin enough as it is. This wretched dinner party of Kira's is turning into a state occasion.”

“Dinner party?” This added a new difficulty to guarding Princess Kira.

“She's invited the Russian ambassador, his wife, and her cousin, Grand Duke Vassily Alexandrovich, to dinner, along with Sussex and some British diplomats.”

“It will make it easier to keep the princess safe with her sister under the same roof.” I hated broaching this other subject. “You know Ivanov wasn't sent by the Russians?”

She shuddered. “I never trusted that man.”

“I think he was sent to be the inside man in your household.”

“Then I'm glad I made him sleep in the carriage house.”

“But someone let him loose. Someone in your household?”

“I don't think so. With all this uproar, my household has been
thrown off schedule. Anyone could have slipped in through the back garden and released him.”

“How easy would it have been to find him?”

“The only place we had to keep him was the game larder. It didn't take much effort to empty it of the little that's left from last fall. Unfortunately, it's close to the back entrance. In fact, it's just below this room.”

She drummed her fingers on a side table. “Anyone coming in expecting to find Ivanov in the kitchen or the servants' hall would have come first to that doorway and his guard. If we'd known someone was planning to meet him, we could have taken precautions. As it was, it was easy for him to be freed and escape without anyone being the wiser. Except Sally. Poor Sally.”

“And she doesn't remember seeing anyone from outside the household before she ran into Ivanov?”

“No, but she was just coming into the hall from the kitchen when she ran into him.”

My theory that an anarchist was hiding in the Duchess of Hereford's household was weak. “Since it's becoming widely known that the princess speaks English, I'm putting it around that I'm to help you with a book you're writing on the history of painting in England.”

The duchess made a sour face. “All right, as long as we can drop that as soon as the princess leaves.”

“Gladly. What is she doing about telling Sussex she speaks English?”

“She plans to learn from you very quickly and let him be amazed at how intelligent she is.”

I laughed. “She doesn't think her fiancé is very bright and she plans to use it to her advantage. Poor Sussex. He doesn't stand a chance.”

The duchess bit back a smile. “But he'll make her happy, and that is its own kind of brilliance.”

Poor Sussex, as I began to think of him, arrived for luncheon by himself as I was crossing the front hall with the duchess. I stayed in the background while the duchess walked forward to greet him and sent a maid to ask the princess to join them.

“I expected Blackford to come with you. You two seem to be inseparable,” the duchess said.

“He's a good friend, helping me lose my shyness around Kira. But he couldn't make it today. Something about a meeting in Whitehall. I suppose I'll have to impress the princess on my own.” Sussex smiled, looking a little uncertain.

I hoped someone would tell him he didn't have to impress Kira. She needed this marriage as much as he did.

“She's very fond of you, Arthur. I'm sure you're going to have a wonderful life ahead of you.” The duchess took his arm. “Let's wait for Kira in the dining room.”

They walked off, and I went back to the morning room to try to piece together what I'd learned. And to worry about Emma.

•   •   •

I'D LEARNED NOTHING
more by the time Blackford came to take me to the Austrian embassy ball. I wore a pale green gown with a beaded design in the skirt, flounces in the sleeves, and very little bodice. Phyllida had done the best she could with my hair, but we both missed the success Emma had with controlling my curls.

The duke was politeness itself. He bowed over both my hand and Phyllida's, put my cape over my shoulders, and wished Phyllida a good evening. Then he led me outside and said, “There are those in Whitehall who don't want us confronting Count Farkas tonight.”

“Why? Do they want to do it themselves?” I grumbled, knowing the response would be negative.

“The Austro-Hungarian Empire is the counterbalance to Russia, to the Ottoman Empire, and to Germany, depending on the issue. It saves Britain a lot of diplomacy and possibly bloodshed. No one wants to upset the Emperor Franz Joseph.”

“And Count Farkas?”

“Is a leading supporter of Austria inside Hungary. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Franz Joseph needs Farkas, and we need the emperor.” He helped me into his tall Wellington carriage and climbed up behind me.

I sat next to him, bracing myself for a jerky ride in the ancient coach, and snapped, “Murder is fine as long as the murderer is necessary to British diplomacy.”

How could Blackford consider diplomatic necessity more important than justice? I thought he shared my goal. I was wrong and it hurt. I scooted over on the seat to put more distance between us.

He captured my gloved hand. “No, Georgia, it's not all right. Someday we'll be able to get Count Farkas in front of a judge, but don't expect any success tonight. With luck, we'll learn something we can use in the future.”

We?
“Are you including yourself in the quest to see justice for the deaths of my parents?”

He held my gaze, neither of us blinking as we jolted along. “I can't think of any cause I'd rather be part of.”

Blackford was going to help me. He understood. I wanted to shout with joy. What I did instead was to shake the hand that held mine across the carriage bench. “Thank you so much, Your Grace.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Fenchurch.” He gave me a solemn nod.

Then we grinned at each other like a pair of fools. Tomorrow, we'd continue running in circles trying to figure out why a Russian soldier had been killed on British soil. Tonight, we were happy to be working toward a different goal while taking part in a glittering ball. At least that was why I was smiling. I was never sure about Blackford.

When we reached the embassy entrance, Blackford exited the coach first and then swung me down from the carriage, hands on my waist. Knowing this wasn't proper, my cheeks heated, but my heartbeat sped with the thrill. Fortunately, the torches threw their light on the grand entrance to the embassy, so no one would notice our behavior in the half-light of the street.

He took my arm and guided me inside, giving our names as the Duke of Blackford and Miss Fenchurch. This was a first, since I always seemed to be in disguise when we were in public together. We handed off our evening cloaks and walked forward to the receiving line in the great hall.

The hall seemed to be all black and white marble. Floor, walls, columns, busts in alcoves. A perfect cold, shiny backdrop for the gowns and jewels. With only Phyllida's pearls at my ears and throat, I was woefully underdressed.

Blackford didn't seem to notice. He kept a proprietary hand on my back, leading me forward to be introduced to the couple in front of us in line. My jaw dropped when I understood Blackford to say in French, “Monsieur Ambassador. How are our friends in Paris?”

I recovered before the ambassador bowed over my hand and I then stumbled over a few pleasantries in French with the man and his wife. Born diplomats, they didn't laugh at my poor accent or the way I stared at the woman's Worth gown. I'd never been envious of clothes before, but then, I'd never been this close to a
gown fresh from the
maison
of the master. The shimmering fabric alone must have cost a fortune.

Suddenly I felt like my beaded, pale green gown could just as easily be worn to clean the kitchen.

At least the kitchen would have been warm. The magnificent high-ceilinged reception hall had no visible heat source, and I was not the only woman with bare upper arms of gooseflesh. I envied the men their evening coats and uniform jackets.

I gave a deep curtsy as I went through the receiving line, and received a nod in return. Blackford rated a bow. Then we entered the ballroom, a huge space with crystal chandeliers powered by electricity and a wooden floor polished until it shone like glass. Along the edges of the room were yellow satin cushioned chairs with intricately carved, curved legs and backs. The walls were covered in silk dyed to match the chair cushions. The double-headed eagle coat of arms, emblem of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was mounted in gilt paint on the wall above the orchestra.

Blackford, elegant in pure black wool as soft as silk, acted as if I were one of the queen's granddaughters. He was all good manners, keeping up a conversation while I gazed at all around me. He translated the greetings he shared with a German minister and an Italian count whose names I didn't catch, giving me a slight opening into those exchanges.

The orchestra was playing a waltz as more and more couples joined in, swaying across the floor in a bobbing motion. It looked like a rainbow sea of glitter and smelled like a garden.

The duke steered me toward one tall, thin man with a chest full of medals and a sash on his evening coat. “Grand Duke Vassily Alexandrovich, I didn't realize you'd reached London. How are you?” Blackford asked in English.

“My dear duke, it is good to see you again. I only arrived today.” They shook hands enthusiastically.

“Then I suspect we'll meet at some government negotiations in the coming days.”

“The tsar sent me to head our delegation this time, and we have a great number of issues to discuss. I won't have a minute to breathe. I fear this trip will be all work.”

“Surely you'll have an opportunity to meet with Princess Kira and her fiancé, the Duke of Sussex. That should count as a pleasure.”

“For me, perhaps. For you young people, not so much.”

They both smiled at this and then Blackford said, “May I introduce Miss Fenchurch?”

The man took my gloved hand and bowed over it. “Enchanted.”

“Grand Duke, I've had the honor of meeting Princess Kira,” I said to him. “Are you related to her?” As a greeting, it lacked finesse. But then, I was feeling my lack as well.

“She is a cousin as well as a countryman. And soon she will become your countryman, too.”

“Yes. Apparently, her sister moved to England ahead of her.”

“Her sister?” He looked startled. Then his expression cleared. “Oh, you mean Nadia. Half sister. I don't envy you having Nadia and her friends in your country.”

“Really? Why?”

I stared at him, and unfortunately, he seemed to realize this wasn't a conversation to have at a diplomatic ball. He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Everyone should have a chance to change their ways. I should not have spoken out of turn.”

He turned to Blackford and bowed. “I hope to see you again soon, my friend. And it was delightful to meet you, Miss Fenchurch.”

When we were on our own again, I asked, “Blackford, why is a Russian minister in town? Isn't the tsar leaving Scotland for home in a day or two?”

“I think so. But Grand Duke Vassily is here for consultations with the ambassador and Whitehall that have been scheduled for quite some time. His visit is separate from the tsar's holiday with the queen.”

Something in his tone made me study the duke's face. “What's wrong with that?”

“He's just added talks with the Admiralty and Scotland Yard.”

“Is something up?”

“You've been around Princess Kira long enough to know something is always up with the Russians.”

“And he's her cousin? Do all the Russians speak English?”

“The royal family does. Grand Duke Vassily is the tsar's uncle, and a second cousin once removed of Princess Kira's. I think.” He shook his head. “I try not to fixate on the relationships between all these Russian royals.”

I looked at him closely and saw the hint of humor in his eyes.

The orchestra began to play another tune and dancers changed partners or left the dance floor. “May I have the honor of this dance?” Blackford murmured in my ear. His breath brushed my skin, warming it as a tremor of excitement ran straight to my brain.

All I could manage was to nod eagerly.

A man approached Blackford on his other side. “Duke. We need to talk. About the railways,” he said in heavily accented English.

Blackford nodded to the finely dressed gentleman. “Have you spoken to Van der Lysson? He's here tonight, too.”

“Yes. A couple of the other partners are here as well. We're going to have a meeting now.”

Blackford turned to me. “Georgia, I'm sorry. This is business. I'll return as quickly as I can, and then we'll have our waltz.”