The Royal Assassin (19 page)

Walking over, I was about to shout that we were closed when I saw Blackford in the door's glass panel. I quickly opened the door to him and said, “Emma's awakened.”

He walked in and shut the door behind him. He shook off his hat and coat and then peeled them off before dumping them on the umbrella stand. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and let his shoulders slump. Looking haggard, his clothes streaked with coal dust, and his eyelids drooping, he said, “I know. I was just there. I'm afraid I bring bad news, Georgia.”

My heart stopped beating. Despite our best efforts, Emma had died. I had failed her. My legs started to crumple. Tears slid unstopped down my cheeks. “Emma's dead?”

Blackford grabbed me by the shoulders before I could collapse on the floor. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “Wait. Georgia. No. Emma's all right.”

I looked up at him, stunned, confused. “But you said you were just there and were bringing bad news.”

“I misspoke. Forgive me. I'm just so tired and—” He shook his head.

I looked at Blackford, surprised to see him in such a state. The man never looked ruffled, yet this morning he looked like he'd been beaten up and run over by a wagon. Whatever the bad
news was, my heart ached for him more than myself. Wrapping my arms around him, I couldn't stop myself from using his name rather than his title. “What's happened, Ranleigh?”

The duke didn't blink at my use of his surname. He didn't shy away from my embrace. My actions were overly familiar, but he clearly needed a friend. Blackford appeared to have used up the last of his ducal reserves.

After a moment, he stepped back, peeled off his filthy fawn leather gloves, and took my bare hand in his. “We recovered all the stolen goods from the warehouse. The police have taken custody of them. But after a short fight, two policemen have been shot. Griekev and Ivanov escaped. The police, Sumner, Jacob, and I gave chase, but they vanished.”

I gasped. “How are the policemen?”

“Not badly injured. Expected to live. Ivanov is not the good shot we believed him to be after killing Robert the footman at Shepherdston's. But nothing will save Ivanov now. Sumner is hunting him down.”

“Good heavens. We still have to worry about Sumner.”

“He'll be all right.”

Didn't Blackford understand the danger? “Ivanov has a gun.”

“So does Sumner.”

I couldn't see this ending well.

Blackford pulled me close again and I snuggled against his shoulder. He spoke, his mouth near my ear. “After questioning, the police learned the anarchists at the house where Emma was held have no plans to hurt anyone. They have no interest in bothering Grand Duke Vassily or Princess Kira. They don't believe in violence. They're very happy to be in the safety of England. They admit there are a few radical anarchists in England, but they don't know them or their plans, if they even have plans.”

“Do you think Griekev and Ivanov are behind the threat to the grand duke?”

He nodded, his eyes closed, as fatigue rolled off him like fog off the Thames.

“Emma said Griekev has a partner who's smarter than he is. A woman. But so far she's not told us anything more. When she wakes again, we can ask more questions.”

“In the meantime,” Blackford said, “I'll talk to the grand duke.”

“No, you won't. You and your footmen need to go home and sleep for a few hours. Then you'll be able to deal with whatever threat arrives at the door of these Russians.” I spit out the last few words. My temper was not to be trusted when I was tired. “And to rescue Sumner if necessary.”

I softened as I looked into his sleepy dark eyes. For an instant, I pictured those eyes looking at me across a pillow. Shaking off my daydream, I said, “Remember, we still have until tomorrow to find out what Griekev and his fellow criminals have planned for the grand duke. Emma learned the date and time of the attack, just not what is planned. You have time to sleep.”

“My valet will appreciate a chance to tidy me up before I descend on official London again.” His smile wiped away the weariness in his eyes.

“Did Sumner tell you what happened to Emma in the East End?”

“Sumner got in with the anarchists, bringing Emma in as his wife. He claimed to have gotten into trouble with the bosses at a coal mine up north. Then he worked as muscle for me. Said he stole my boots.” He grinned for an instant.

“They stayed in a room in that building, and Emma managed to talk to most of the people. Sumner passed out leaflets for the cause at first and then was used as a thug by Griekev to force vegetable merchants around Covent Garden to pay protection money.”

“So they managed to get into a position to find out what was going on.”

“Except they didn't. Griekev kept everything to himself. Mukovski appears to be harmless, interested in intellectual arguments to change the world. Sumner says Mukovski puts everything up for a vote in the group. Griekev doesn't tolerate anyone disagreeing with him. That man is a pirate captain.”

“But Mukovski admits he made a deal with Griekev.”

“Which he once described to Emma as making a deal with the devil.” Blackford yawned behind the back of his free hand. I still snuggled against him, both of us so tired we were holding each other up.

“Why did they take Emma prisoner?”

“They must have discovered she'd overheard Griekev talking to a woman about an attack on their targets. And they could be sure Emma told Sumner. They took Emma prisoner and tried to throw Sumner in the cellar, probably to keep him imprisoned until they completed their plans. He escaped immediately, but they must have thought holding Emma would keep him silent.”

I now had a hand under Blackford's elbow, supporting him. “I guess they didn't count on Sumner having a lot of people willing to help him save Emma. We listened to his story. And we acted.”

I glanced at Blackford and watched his eyes drift closed. I knew I had to do the right thing. “This isn't getting you into bed, Ranleigh. Go home. Get some sleep. You and your men.”

He nodded, his eyes still closed. “They followed me loyally today. I must reward them.”

“You must. But first, reward them and yourself with sleep.”

“And then I'm going after Griekev personally.”

“Why?”

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I have pirate ancestry.”

I bit back a smile. “Not really, Your Grace.”

“I believe I'm the only one capable of stopping a pirate like Griekev. Not the police. Not the Archivist Society. Me. So far he's won every skirmish, but I intend to destroy him. He can't be allowed to blow up the safes of my friends and steal Gainsboroughs.”

To me, Blackford sounded like a pirate on the right side of the law, and I couldn't have loved him more for his determination.

He left his dirty gloves stuffed in his pocket as he dropped my hand and picked up his hat and coat. “What will you do?”

“I'll be at Hereford House if you need me.” I had to ask before he left. “Does Sumner make enough to support a wife?”

“You'd be surprised how much money he has. Emma chose better than she knows. Unless he's already told her.” He opened the door of the shop, making the bell jangle. “Good night.”

I looked out at the carriage, where the coachman and footmen looked like a band of worn-out brigands. They huddled under their caps and jackets as the rain fell. “Good night.”

B
LACKFORD
rode off in his coach, and I began to check over my bookshop ledgers. I was still at it, fighting to concentrate on the figures, when Frances came in. “What's happened with the Russians?” she asked as she took off her hat and gloves.

“The anarchists aren't our problem. There's been a group of burglars who've hidden among the anarchists, living in the same tenement with them. These thieves have been behind the big robberies in London.”

“The Marquis of Shepherdston?”

“Yes, and several other thefts, all just as daring.”

“Have they been caught?”

I filled her in on all that had happened during the night.

“Good heavens. Policemen shot.” The shock on Frances's face must have mirrored my own when Blackford told me. Then she blinked and said, “I'm glad Emma will be all right. I know how worried you were.”

“Everything's fine now.” I'd let Emma tell her about the wedding.
It was her news to share. “I have the ledgers as far along as they're going to get today. I'd better get over to Hereford House. With Griekev and Ivanov on the loose, the princess might still be in danger.”

“Oh, you don't think so, do you? Why would successful burglars want to attack a foreign princess who doesn't have a household they can rob? You said yourself they're not anarchists.”

Something bothered me about what Frances said, but I was too tired to figure it out. I carried the ledgers back into the office to find Charles Dickens had disappeared. When I reemerged, Frances had put up the Open sign and had begun dusting. I put on my hat and gloves, said good-bye, and walked to Hereford House.

The cool rain forced me to hurry, pumping blood to my brain. If I didn't think about how many hours separated me from my bed, I might make it through the day without bringing shame on myself by collapsing.

I entered the front hall to find the servants busy giving the area an extra-good cleaning. “What's going on?” I asked the butler.

“Grand Duke Vassily is coming for a private luncheon with Princess Kira, the dukes of Sussex and Blackford, and Her Grace. Then the Russian ambassador and his lady were added. We are having something of a state occasion.”

I wished him good luck and went into the back hall to take off my hat and gloves. I had just set them down on the empty table when Amelia Whitten came breathlessly in the back door, pulling a hat pin out of her hair. “Gracious. Where have you been?” I asked.

“I don't answer to you,” she snapped and set down her things.
Then she opened the secret doorway in the hall and disappeared up the steps.

Grand Duke Vassily was arriving on a surprise visit to Hereford House today and Miss Whitten had disappeared on an errand without Lady Daisy. I wondered where I could find the three Russians I found suspicious.

I stopped dead in the hallway as I realized all four possible accomplices of the burglars in the Duchess of Hereford's house were women. Griekev had been meeting with a woman just before Emma was taken prisoner. A woman who seemed to be his partner. Or his boss.

While it didn't make sense that Princess Kira would be behind attacks on herself, the attacks had been against Lidijik the guard and Lady Raminoff the chaperone, not Princess Kira. I didn't know what she could gain by their deaths, but I knew I needed to find out.

I raced up the secret staircase, but instead of entering the nursery, I headed for Princess Kira's room. She looked up when I entered.

She greeted me with, “You should knock.”

“Where is Mila?”

Princess Kira waved a hand in the air. “She went out to get a new ribbon for my dress. She burned the other one with an iron this morning, clumsy girl. When we get back to St. Petersburg, I will dismiss her.”

“And Nadia?”

“She had a meeting with Grand Duke Vassily this morning at the embassy. I don't know what good that will do,” she added with a sniff, turning partially away from me.

“Did you two quarrel?”

“Of course not. I'm on her side. I told her that when we get
back to St. Petersburg, I'll ask the tsar to give her the honors she deserves.”

I began to think the princess lived in a fairy tale where she had more influence than she did in reality. “Did you ever think she might not go back to St. Petersburg? Not even to be proclaimed a princess?”

She opened her mouth but then shut it without making a sound. Frowning, she rose and walked over to look out the window.

“Have an enjoyable luncheon,” I said and left the room. Once again avoiding the front staircase, I went in search of Mary, who was now in place as Nadia's lady's maid. I found her in the basement, mending a gown of Nadia's. I glanced around to make sure none of the other servants were within listening distance. “What time did Nadia leave this morning?”

“As soon as she and the princess finished breakfast.”

“How did she seem?”

“Seem, miss?”

“Was she in a good mood? Is she invited to the luncheon today?”

After a moment, she shook her head. “No. Mila told me Nadia wouldn't be invited because the Russians don't want her there. And when the princess said she had to get ready for the grand duke's luncheon, Miss Nadia said she was speaking to the grand duke this morning. Then she added that she didn't expect to be invited to the luncheon after this meeting. I got the impression she didn't think her talk with the Russian gentleman would go well.”

“They were speaking English in front of you?” Apparently neither of them cared if they were overheard by the servants.

“Yes. I don't think they consider Mila or me important enough to worry about whether we could hear them.”

“Did they argue?”

“No, miss. The princess said it was just Russian stubbornness and Nadia's standing doesn't matter in England, and Miss Nadia said it matters everywhere. She put on her hat and gloves and left a few minutes later. She hasn't returned, or she would have called for me.”

“And the maid, Mila?”

“I don't know if she's come back yet. She would have left from the servants' entrance to get a replacement for the ribbon she burned. You could ask the housekeeper if she's seen either Mila or Miss Nadia.”

“I will. Thank you. And let me know as soon as Nadia returns.”

I found the housekeeper dealing with the linens in the tiny closet just behind the butler's pantry. “I don't have time to worry about the back door today,” she told me. “Not with a last-minute luncheon on top of the formal dinner we're hosting.”

“Last minute?”

“This morning the princess decided she wants to discuss some details of her marriage to the duke with the Russian ambassador and the tsar's uncle, who's in town. She begged Her Grace to host this luncheon, and Her Grace, being the kind woman she is, said yes. And then apologized for the extra work she's put on us.”

“She is a nice woman,” I agreed.

“Yes. And she let me know we won't have to put up with much more of this. Apparently Grand Duke Vassily will take the Russians home with him in a few days. We all say ‘amen' to that.”

The princess would be leaving in a few days. If anyone wanted to kill her in England, they'd have to hurry. And three possible links to Griekev and Ivanov had all gone out this morning after this luncheon was planned.

I felt like I had been thrown upside down into a Russian snowdrift.

Hurrying out the back door, I dashed across the back garden to the coach house and cornered the first footman I saw. “Did you see the Russian maid Mila go through here this morning?”

“Yes. She went out almost an hour ago. Haven't seen her come back.”

“And Miss Whitten, Lady Daisy's tutor?”

“She went out and came back already.”

“Was she carrying anything?”

“Not her, no. The maid was, though. She carried out a bundle with her.”

“And have you seen anything of the princess's sister, Nadia?”

“Not either of the Russian ladies. Not today.”

“Have they gone out this way recently?”

“They've sneaked out together a few times and asked us not to tell Her Grace. We figured she has enough to worry about, and you never can tell what the quality wants to hear from us. Or even what we're supposed to notice.”

“Where did they go?”

“A couple of times, they had us give them a ride to church. One of them funny Russian churches. Not a proper English one.”

“Is that where the Russian maid keeps going?”

“Not her. She's smuggling food out. I've seen her give a bundle to a raggedy-looking boy a couple of blocks away. I was on my way to a public house on my afternoon out, so I had time to linger. The boy opened it partway right there on the street and, as I knew who she was, I watched. Part of a loaf of bread and some ham, as well as I could see.”

The groom squared his shoulders. “I told the butler about that. Wasn't right, stealing from Her Grace. She's a right generous lady, is Her Grace. Ain't right taking advantage of her like that.”

I thanked the groom and went back into the house. I headed
straight for the nursery, where I found Miss Whitten and Lady Daisy playing a counting game. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don't.” The tutor turned her back on me.

“You can either talk to me or talk to the authorities. Your choice.”

Amelia Whitten frowned and pursed her lips together. After a moment, she said, “Lady Daisy, would you go find your nursery maid and stay with her until I call you?”

“May Millie play our game?”

“Of course. You may teach it to her.”

The girl ran off, blond hair flying behind her.

Amelia Whitten swung around to face me, her fists on her hips. “Now, what is it you want to say to me?”

“Someone in this household has been helping Ivanov on his mission against Princess Kira. You are one of those suspected.”

“I've had nothing to do with him. I wouldn't want to have anything to do with him.” The shudder that crossed her face couldn't have been faked.

“Why did you slip out of here this morning after coming to work?”

“That is none of your business.”

“You won't be able to give the police that answer.”

“Fine. You aren't the police.”

“But she is working under my direction, and I am your employer, Miss Whitten. Please answer her question.” The duchess stood in the doorway to the nursery, her arms folded over her stomach.

We both curtsied.

“I'd rather not answer, Your Grace.”

“Then I have no choice but to fire you without a reference. You may be the one bringing danger to my household, and I can't risk the life of my daughter on what you'd rather not do.”

Fire rose in Miss Whitten's eyes. “You'll fire me anyway. At least this way I can keep my dignity.”

“Your dignity?” I asked. “I wouldn't ask if it weren't important to rule you out as the danger. What's wrong?”

She slumped down onto a stool. “I have a little boy. He's nearly three. My mother keeps him for me. She's been ill lately, and I've been going round to check on the two of them.”

I faced the duchess. “I'd like to verify this if Your Grace doesn't mind.”

She nodded, and I turned to the governess. “Let's go over there, if your mother doesn't mind visitors. You can tell them I'm a friend come to call if you'd like.”

“Miss Whitten,” the duchess said, “if this bears out, there will be no more talk of your leaving.” She left the room in the direction from where we could hear Lady Daisy's laughter.

We went downstairs, put on our hats and gloves, and headed out the back door. “It's shorter this way,” she told me.

We caught an omnibus and rode it perhaps a mile to an area of small homes and shops. Smaller and older than the ones in my neighborhood, the buildings' brick walls were dark with soot. Papers and leaves in the rain-soaked gutters gave it a neglected air. Miss Whitten stopped in front of a narrow house in the middle of the block and let us in with her key.

Inside was even darker and more neglected looking than outside. There was a threadbare rug on the entry floor and, through the open parlor door, I saw once-expensive furniture now worn and faded. “Is that you, Amelia?” a woman's voice called from the room.

“Yes, Miss Mary.” Miss Whitten led the way into the room.

I followed her to find a little boy on the floor, playing with some wooden blocks and tin soldiers, while an old lady watched him and darned a stocking.

The boy jumped up and ran over to hug Amelia Whitten around the knees. “Mama.”

The room was cool, but the draperies were thrown open to let in the watery light of the dreary day, along with the sounds of traffic in the road. Amelia bent down to pick up the boy and tweaked his nose. He appeared clean, well nourished, and well behaved.