The Royal Assassin (6 page)

Despite the hideous scars on one side of his face, he'd found the one woman who loved him completely in Emma. The result was Sumner would walk through fire for her. The clothes were no doubt meant to impress her, but he needn't have bothered. Emma saw past his face and his disguises, and the beauty had tender feelings for the beast.

The delight on her face when he walked into the parlor said it all.

I went to help Phyllida bring in the tea things, certain Emma hadn't seen Sumner in months. But when I returned carrying the tray, trailing Phyllida with the biscuits, Emma was saying, “If you stop by tomorrow morning, you can finish unpacking the rest of the boxes.”

Setting the tray down with a thump, I said, “Sumner, have you been by the shop lately?”

“As soon as he heard you were on an investigation, he offered his services around the shop. He's very handy,” Emma said and then blushed.

“Have some tea, dear,” Phyllida said to Emma. “You're looking overheated.”

I was going to have to ask Frances what was going on in the shop in my absence.

Blackford took the teacup Phyllida offered him, balancing it in one hand as he stared at me. “Jacob followed the girl to the East End, but once there, he lost her. She ducked into a turning off Commercial Street by Whitechapel Road.”

Phyllida shivered. “Jack the Ripper's part of London. I hope you warned him to be careful.”

We all nodded. Several years after Jack's last murder, the area was still dangerous.

“Princess Kira told me the girl was a maid in her parents' house, and the next day said she was a cook. Either way, if she were working as a domestic, she'd be living in her employer's home. No one in the East End can afford servants. They can barely afford to feed themselves.” I drummed my fingers on the padded chair arm. “And we have another problem.”

I had everyone's attention as four heads turned to look at me.

“This afternoon, a new Russian guard came to Hereford House to replace the one who was killed. I don't know what he was arguing about with Lady Raminoff and Princess Kira in Russian, but the duchess is afraid of him, and he insists on sleeping in the house instead of the coach house with the other male servants.”

“How did he get his point across about sleeping in the house?” Emma asked.

“He speaks English. He says it's required of guards serving here.”

“What does the Duke of Hereford say?” Phyllida asked.

“He's out in the country at their estate. He couldn't see staying in the house with three more women, or, as he calls them, the Russian invasion.”

“The guard's presence is going to make it difficult for the princess to visit with the other girl,” Blackford said.

“She'll do something to speak to the girl. And I expect this something will put her in danger.” Or more likely, put me or other Hereford servants in peril.

“Then finding out who this unknown woman really is just became more important,” Blackford said. “Sumner, I want you ready to follow her tomorrow.”

“I'll do it,” Emma said, setting down her teacup. “I spoke to Jacob today. He lost her in Whitechapel. He knows the area as well as I do, but he doesn't know girls as well.”

“You're not going alone,” Sumner said.

Emma gave him one quick nod.

“No. I'm going with you.” When Sumner was determined, his looks were frightening.

From her serene expression, I knew Emma was equally resolved. “No. I have a plan for once we reach the East End. You can follow me. But watch your back.”

He gave her his lopsided smile that pulled at his scars. “I always do.”

She gave him a hard stare. “Sumner, don't be cocky. There are cutthroats in the East End every bit as dangerous as the assassins you met in North Africa.”

“I know. And my job is to get us both out alive.”

Silence filled the room like the fog that would descend on our streets this winter. I glanced over to find Phyllida wringing her hands. My insides felt the same way. Emma and Sumner would both be in danger from sources we couldn't imagine. And we didn't yet know the kind of trouble the Russian woman brought with her.

“Georgia,” Blackford said, “we're going to have to learn from
you what the princess plans. I'll be sure to accompany Sussex tomorrow and you can get me word then.”

“I'll tell you what she tells me. Remember, it may not be the truth. The princess doesn't trust me.”

“Make her trust you,” the duke ordered.

I held his gaze. “She trusts no one. But you might make this easier. The duchess of Hereford wants you to stop by tonight and convince the guard to sleep with the male servants in the coach house.”

He gave one guffaw. “If the duke isn't around, call on a ducal neighbor. Very well. I'll take a couple of my brawnier footmen with me and see if I can't persuade the guard to act as if he were a guest in another country.” He shook his head. “Which he certainly is. Has the duchess contacted the Russian embassy?”

“Yes, but I don't know if she's received a reply.”

“I'll find out.” He rose and gave us a bow. Sumner immediately leaped to his feet with his gaze still on Emma.

•   •   •

I ARRIVED AT
Hereford House at the usual time the next morning, leaving Emma to make arrangements for a member of the Archivist Society to fill in for her in the bookshop. She also had instructions to call Sir Broderick on the shop phone to tell him he'd have to put Jacob to use as his assistant in my antiquarian book business. Sir Broderick knew the business as well as I did, but Jacob would be needed to run books between my shop and Sir Broderick's study, where my father's onetime partner spent his days in his wheeled chair.

I left my hat and gloves next to Miss Whitten's, noting it must have been a short illness that kept her away the day before. I
uncovered the typewriter, pulled out ink and paper from a drawer, and then left the room.

Where would be the best place to find the princess? I couldn't picture her sleeping late when there hadn't been a ball on the previous evening. I walked upstairs past the housemaids as if I belonged there and followed the corridor to the painting studio.

When I tapped and then opened the door, I saw Princess Kira sitting in front of an easel, dabbing at an impressionist canvas.

The door smashed back into my face. I fell back into the hall against the far wall, knocked into a painting the duchess had made. I heard Russian and then the door reopened.

“Miss Peabody, are you all right?” Princess Kira asked in French as she hurried toward me. The Russian guard stood glowering at me with his hand on the doorknob.

“It's a good thing I wasn't the duchess, or you'd be out on your ear,” I said in English, rubbing my forehead. I hoped I wouldn't get a bruise.

“I guard princess, not duchess,” the guard replied.

“What is your name?”

“Sergei Brencisovich Ivanov,” he replied, snapping to attention.

“Well, get out of my way, Ivanov,” I replied, shoving him as I entered the doorway. The princess stepped back to let me in; he didn't budge an inch.

“Do you speak French?” I asked in French without facing him.

He remained silent.

“He doesn't. I've tested him a couple of times,” Princess Kira said.

“Good. Where's Lady Raminoff?”

“Resting.”

I gave the princess a conspiratorial smile. She nodded and went back to her canvas. I stood next to her, both of our backs to the
guard. I heard him move about to a spot next to the door and then settle in one place.

“How will you see your friend again?” I asked, lowering my voice in the hope that the guard couldn't hear my words even if he could speak French.

“Why would I?”

“If you don't want my help, fine.” I turned to leave.

“Wait.”

I moved back to my original position looking over her painting. She was going to tell me something. I hoped it was the truth. And I hoped it was also true that the odious Russian soldier couldn't understand French.

“I
'VE
convinced Sussex to take me shopping today. You're to come along as my tutor while Lady Raminoff will be my chaperone. The guard will ride on the back as footman.” She made a few quick touches of blue paint with her brush.

“And?”

“I plan to walk between shops, and then stop at an artists' supply shop. I will send the guard back to the carriage with several bulky packages. When his back is turned, I'll slip through a shop to the back alley. I want you to misdirect him, slow him down, whatever is necessary.”

“Which shop?”

“You don't need to know that.” Now a little white went on the canvas.

“I do if I'm going to misdirect him.”

She sighed. “Hatchards bookshop.”

A shop likely to have the back door open for frequent and
erratic deliveries. And a shop I couldn't enter without blowing my cover. As a fellow bookshop owner, the employees knew me as Georgia Fenchurch.

Now all I had to do was get word to Blackford. Out of curiosity, I asked, “Are you enjoying London, Princess?”

She stopped painting. “Yes. The color. The activity. I want to paint it all.”

“Your parents' manor must be very quiet compared to cities. Here or St. Petersburg.”

“Quiet, yes, but very pretty. Not unlike the countryside I saw from the railway window. Or the estate I visited with the duke on my way here. All the bustle of the harvest. Autumn flowers. The colors of the leaves changing. Thatched roofs.”

“There's not a lot of snow yet?”

“Snow?” She laughed. “Not yet. I'm to return before the snow starts. By late November, we will have snow. By Christmas, everything will be white and beautiful. Do you have snow for Christmas in London?”

“Sometimes. Not often. In the north, there's usually snow.”

“That's a pity. I shall have to ask Sussex to take me north next Christmas.”

She continued painting and I watched in a companionable silence for a few moments. Then I asked, “What time are we going shopping?”

“Directly after luncheon.” She looked over my dress. “I suppose you're wearing that.”

I wore a crisp gray gown with white collar and cuffs, a lace inset on the bodice, and puffy sleeves. “Yes. I try to dress in a businesslike manner.”

“Oh.” Her tone contained a world of disdain.

I matched her in attitude. I didn't like her overdressing for every occasion, but at least I was polite enough not to say anything. “I'll be ready to go along as your tutor.”

The princess nodded and turned her full attention to her painting. Obviously, I had been dismissed. I walked over and pulled open the door to the hall as hard as I could. All I hit was the Russian's boot.

I went back downstairs to the morning room to write a note to Blackford. Unfortunately, the duchess was sitting in the room waiting for me.

“Where were you?” she asked, her arms folded over her waist.

“Investigating. Did Blackford solve your problem last night?”

“Yes.” She rose and began to pace. “That soldier gives me gooseflesh. I feel like he's measuring me for a coffin. Where is he now?”

“Guarding the princess in your studio.”

“I'll have to have it scrubbed down when he leaves.”

“What does Lady Raminoff think of him?”

She turned her face and hands heavenward. “Who knows? I'm sorry I invited these Russians to stay. Hereford said I was a fool. I'll have to tell him he was right—if we're not all murdered in our beds first.”

She was a duchess, but I suddenly felt sorry for her. “Have you written to tell him of your fears?”

“No. I'm afraid he'll return and order the embassy to remove our guests.” She leveled her gaze at me. “And am I correct in thinking the government needs to find out what the threat is and where it's coming from?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'll just have to be vigilant and keep my fears to myself.”

“You're very brave. I hope the duke appreciates you.”

She smiled at my words. “He does.”

“Did you hear from the Russian embassy about replacing Ivanov?”

“They have to confer with St. Petersburg, and someone there will ask the tsar. Blackford has promised to take this up with the ambassador. He's spending a lot of time on this problem, isn't he?”

I nodded. If he weren't, the Archivist Society and I wouldn't need to, either.

I heard a muffled cry. I glanced out the window and blinked at what I saw. Lady Daisy was being held aloft by Ivanov and crying as she squirmed to get away. As I ran out of the room, the duchess said, “What is it?”

“Lady Daisy,” I cried and heard her footsteps dashing after mine.

When I sprinted out the back door, Ivanov was setting Lady Daisy down and picking up Miss Whitten. The governess's shoes dangled two feet above the ground. She smacked him with her open hand and shouted, “Put me down,” in a loud voice.

He loosed a booming laugh.

I ran up to him and shouted, “Do you want to be sent back to Russia?”

He immediately released Miss Whitten and turned toward me, a gleam in his eyes. Seeing the duchess behind me, he said, “Only playing game for little one. No one hurt.”

The duchess put every drop of ducal outrage in her voice as she said, “The next time you put a hand on my daughter or any of my staff, it will be the last thing you do in England before I see you thrown on a ship heading to Russia. And believe me when I say the ambassador will back me up.”

“No one hurt,” he said and walked toward the back door. Once past us, I heard him say clearly, “Silly women.”

Following behind as the duchess returned to the house with a shaken Miss Whitten and a sobbing Lady Daisy, I went in and
wrote a hurried note to Blackford. I set it on the silver tray in the front hall where the household's letters were left to be posted.

I waited a while after I finished my luncheon in the morning room before venturing out to the front hall. The tray was empty.

The flutter in my chest came when I realized this didn't necessarily mean Blackford had received my message. If he hadn't, I needed him to trust me enough to follow my lead.

“What you need, Miss Peabody?” the guard's growling voice said behind me.

I jumped and turned toward Ivanov, trying to wipe the guilty expression off my face. Why should I feel guilty, my mind lectured. The guard was the one who was untrustworthy. “What
do
you need,” I corrected him. “Is the princess ready for her English lesson?”

“No English lesson today.” Ivanov moved near, lowering his face toward mine. I could smell his stinking breath as he tried to force me to back up.

I planted my feet and glared at the man. But being of modest stature and with him so close, I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye. “That's not your decision.”

“I am soldier to tsar. It is my decision.”

“You are in England, a guest in an English house. The tsar has no official standing in this country. Therefore, you do not make decisions for the princess. Now, when will the princess be ready for her English lesson?”

He replied with a string of muttered Russian that I suspected were curses. A door off the hallway opened behind him. At the sound of Princess Kira's voice, he marched off.

The princess came up to me and said in French, “We are going shopping today for our English lesson. Get ready to leave in ten minutes.”

I gave her a deep curtsy and walked back to the morning room. I saw the Duke of Sussex with her, but Blackford was nowhere in sight. How was he going to help me with the Russian guard if he wasn't around?

Returning to the front hall five minutes later, I found Blackford chatting with the Duchess of Hereford. Every hair was in place, his clothes were as immaculate as ever, his posture was rigidly straight. He appeared at ease only because the softening of his lips into a smile changed his face to a gentle mask. But the rest of his body was as coiled for action as an iron bedspring.

I wondered if anyone else could see the duke was ready for battle.

I walked up to them, curtsied, and whispered, “Did you get my message?”

Arguing voices in Russian made all three of us turn our heads. The princess, Lady Raminoff, and Ivanov were all talking on top of one another. No one was listening. Sussex stood with them, asking what they were saying and getting no reply.

Blackford turned back to me. “No, I hadn't heard that. Interesting.”

An innocuous comment, but I understood what he was telling me. He hadn't received my message. He had no idea what to expect, and I didn't know how much help he'd be.

The princess waved her arms in the air and snapped a single word at Lady Raminoff and the soldier. Ivanov got out a single word before Princess Kira shook a hand in front of his face. Then she turned to Sussex and gave him her arm to escort her out to the carriage.

The rest of us followed in a ragtag parade. Fortunately, Ivanov climbed on the back of the carriage on the ledge for the footman. Five of us crowded inside and we took off.

No one spoke. Sussex stared at Princess Kira, smiling every
time she looked his way. Blackford looked out the window, glancing at me from time to time. I was smashed against one side of the carriage, from where I could see Lady Raminoff in profile glaring at Sussex.

We hit a bump and my shoulder banged against the metal frame of the carriage. I reached up to rub the sore spot, earning a huff from Lady Raminoff. “If you don't have enough room, perhaps you should ride with the driver. Or stay behind.”

“That would make it difficult to teach the princess English,” I said. We exchanged glares.

The silence continued.

“Princess, what would you like to study today? Perhaps we could try a few verbs,” I suggested. Like running, hiding, and causing trouble.

“What does a horse do?” she asked in French.

“Horses walk. They trot. They canter. They gallop.” With each verb, I moved my hand faster to get across the quicker speeds. My hand flew past Lady Raminoff's nose when I reached “gallop.”

The lady gave me an angry stare. “Pardon.”

“So sorry,” I replied.

The princess ignored the building tension. “And people? What do they do?”

“The same, except for gallop and canter. People walk, stroll, trot, run, hurry, climb.” I moved both hands as if ascending a ladder.

“We shall try these things while we're shopping,” the princess replied in French. “It will help me remember. I want my English to be good for His Grace.”

“I'm certain you will be brilliant,” Sussex said, a smitten smile plastered on his face.

I caught Blackford staring at me with a frown. There was no
way I could tell him about the princess's planned disappearance. I hoped he kept a good watch.

Princess Kira had the carriage stop in front of a fabric shop two doors down from Hatchards. We all climbed down and went inside, the Russian soldier standing guard at the door. He alternated between peering in the shop window and carefully watching every movement in the street.

I noticed a familiar-looking coachman drive past in an ordinary-looking carriage. The well-matched, sleek black horses told me I was not mistaken. Blackford's coachman. He pulled over and let two passengers out in front of Hatchards. Emma and Sumner, dressed in working-class attire fancied up with middle-class hats and gloves. Sumner had added a cane and Emma a nice scarf that could be easily hidden once they reached the East End.

Good. They were in position to confront the Russian girl Princess Kira was meeting. Then my relief quickly died, trampled under horse hooves and carriage wheels. Who had Emma found to watch my shop?

The princess asked Sussex his opinion of different fabrics for sofas, chairs, and draperies. She finally learned he was partial to greens and blues and hated large flowers. We left after Sussex assured the proprietor that they'd be back after the wedding the following spring.

We then walked past Hatchards two doors in the opposite direction to an art supply store. The princess went mad buying canvases, frames, oil paints, cleaning chemicals, and brushes. It was more than even a large-handed man like Ivanov could manage and react to anything else. When the princess told him to carry her packages to the carriage, he let loose with a string of Russian.

“Tell him he is acting as my footman and, therefore, must
carry my purchases to the carriage and store them safely inside,” the princess told me in French.

I turned to him and translated her words to English.

He growled at me. “I am guard. I am not servant.”

“If you don't do as she instructs, you will be replaced,” I said without conferring with the princess first.

“You are servant. Do not speak to me like that.”

“Princess Kira is right,” Blackford said. “You're acting as her footman. Carry her packages to the carriage, and be sure everything is stored so nothing is damaged. Otherwise, I'll personally speak to the ambassador and get you replaced. Today.”