The Royal Assassin (8 page)

“Ivanov tried to slip away. I ordered him to stay in the house. He disagreed rather forcefully. This is the result.” Blackford looked around him. Then he glanced in my direction and asked, “What did you learn from the chaperone?”

I reported my conversation with Lady Raminoff.

Blackford said, “Any chance they hung the killer?”

“I'd guess at least the person who paid the killer is still free. Possibly the killer, too. Do you have a telephone, Your Grace?”

The duchess looked at me and blinked. “A telephone?”

“Come next door and use mine. Calling out the Archivist Society?” Blackford asked.

“Yes. I want to send some eyes into the East End to report back today.” Hopefully, they'd find Emma and Sumner. With even better luck, they'd find the princess.

The footmen finished tying up Ivanov and began bouncing him along the floor as they dragged him to the back stairs. I winced when I heard his head crack on the tiles. “That's enough, Hughes,” Blackford said.

“Just getting back a little of my own, Your Grace,” one of the footmen replied. I could see a welt along his forehead and an eye blackening.

“You have now,” Blackford replied. Ivanov's limp body stopped thudding along the hall.

“I'd better see to my storerooms,” the duchess said and followed them, calling to her butler.

“Hughes, stay here and aid the duchess's men with guarding
this man.” Blackford bent down to the footman moaning on the floor. “Smith, can you walk?”

“Aye, Your Grace. Can you give me a hand up?”

The three of us made slow progress to the duke's imposing residence next door. Leaving his butler to organize care for the wounded footman, Blackford showed me into the study where we'd first met. On a table by the door now stood a telephone.

I picked it up and asked for Sir Broderick's line. He answered almost immediately.

“Any word from Emma?” I asked first.

“No. Where are you, Georgia?”

“The Duke of Blackford's residence. We need to send eyes into the East End to look for Sumner and Emma. I don't know what they're up to, so tell our scouts not to approach or act like they know them. Only see if they can find Emma and Sumner, and then report back their location by this afternoon.”

“What has happened, Georgia?” I could hear his concern over the wires.

“The princess has run away. I think she may have run to the woman Emma and Sumner were following yesterday. The woman is Princess Kira's half sister, Nadia Andropov. Hopefully, they're all together and safe.”

After I finished my conversation, I hung up and faced Blackford. “What do we do now?”

“Now? We do nothing.”

Perhaps the duke intended to do nothing, but I was joining the search. I turned on my heel and hurried out of the library.

“Georgia,” Blackford snapped and marched out of his library on my heels.

Unfortunately, I had come to an abrupt stop when I dashed out of the room to discover the Duke of Sussex standing before
me. Stevens, Blackford's butler, stood a little behind him in the hall. When Blackford came out, he had to step to my side to avoid colliding with my back.

“I say, is there a problem?” Arthur, Duke of Sussex, asked as he stood in the hallway, looking from one to the other of us. One pale eyebrow was eloquently raised, and it would have taken a dunce to miss the thought spelled out on his face.
He thinks Blackford is having his way with the neighbor's servants.

I tried to remember which commandment forbade that as I dropped into a curtsy and said, “No, Your Grace. At least nothing that would concern you.”

“Perhaps you can help, Sussex,” Blackford said. I whipped around to signal him to keep the Duke of Sussex out of this when he continued, “Miss Peabody's sister is missing. Since Hereford is absent, she came to me for guidance. Her sister has threatened to meet an unsuitable young man in the East End, and Miss Peabody wants to stop her. I'm taking the carriage out. Would you care to join us?”

“I'd be glad to help. Shall I get Princess Kira?”

No!
Please do not let Sussex see Princess Kira in our search for Emma and Sumner.
“When I spoke to her, she said she was going to spend the day painting and didn't want to be disturbed. I would consider it an honor if you would join us, Your Grace.”

I should have been shocked at how easily the lie slipped from my lips. I was embarrassed by how easily Blackford and I interwove our lies. Which one of us had become a bad influence on the other?

Blackford sent for his coachman to bring the plain carriage around front and the three of us, plus a muscular footman sitting with the driver, set off. We quickly left the duke's upper-class neighborhood for alternating streets of commercial properties, middle-class residences, and working-class homes. We worked
our way through the confusion of traffic in the City and entered the East End.

The driver stuck to the main roads, the others being too narrow and dangerous for a carriage. Even then, we moved at an ant's pace. We had to slowly weave our way around insurmountable objects such as parked drays loading their wares. We were forced to avoid broken carts and a loud dispute between apple sellers and flower sellers that looked to turn violent.

Riding with my face pressed against the windowpane, I looked for Emma and Sumner in vain. We passed a few blocks where the buildings seemed to stand only by leaning against each other and I could smell the decay through the glass. Other blocks looked sturdy. The institutional buildings, hospitals, schools, and police stations looked like brick fortresses that the Second Coming wouldn't bring down.

Warehouses and factories were mixed with shops, homes, and common lodging houses where the poor slept on bunks in dormitories for fourpence a night. And in between these warehouses and common lodging houses, between the sweatshops and houses sublet into rented rooms, were tiny alleys, twisting lanes, and broken fences. Shortcuts that protected criminals.

I hoped Emma hadn't ended up in a common lodging house.

At least I didn't see Princess Kira walking along Commercial Street. But then, I couldn't imagine Princess Kira in this neighborhood.

With the rain holding off for the present time, I could make out faces under hats or caps. If it were raining, people would have taken refuge under umbrellas or pulled down hat brims or used scarves to keep their faces dry.

“What does your sister look like?” Sussex asked.

“Blond. Pretty. Ten years my junior.”

“Like Princess Kira.” He smiled. From the empty look in his eyes, it seemed he had faded into a daydream.

I glanced at Blackford and rolled my eyes. He glared at me, and I returned to looking out the window. And then I spotted Nadia Andropov just before we reached Whitechapel Road. Sussex was looking out the other window. I tapped Blackford on the knee and gestured with my head.

Nadia appeared to be alone, walking along the street at a comfortable pace. No one was chasing her. Yet.

Blackford banged on the ceiling and the driver quickly reined in the horses, blocking a wagon whose driver shouted something I didn't want to dwell on. I opened the door and, since we weren't in the Wellington coach, climbed down safely without help.

I started to follow Nadia on foot. Behind me, I heard Blackford's voice and the carriage door slam. He must have had to stop Sussex from joining me on the pavement. The coach drew a little ahead of Nadia, looking too clean and new to belong in this neighborhood. She didn't change her speed or look around, apparently unaware of us.

Then she dodged into an alley and I was sure she knew we were there. With a sigh and against my better judgment, I went in after her. I hoped the men in the carriage noted where I had gone.

The end of the alley opened out into a wider space between the buildings on Commercial Street and the dirty backs of some two-story dwellings on the next block. Suddenly I was shoved into a doorway, a knife pressed against my throat. The sharp edge burned my skin as if she held a lit match to my neck. “Why are you following me?”

I
found myself inches from the face of Nadia Andropov, the blue in her eyes as cold as a Russian snowdrift. I hadn't expected to die protecting a Russian princess. Forcing enough air out of my lungs to speak without rubbing against the blade was a trick. I whispered, “Nadia, I'm trying to find Kira.”

“Why?” She pressed the blade just a little harder into my flesh. There was no room for error.

I could feel blood oozing on my white shirtfront from the cut on my throat. Somebody was going to pay. If I lived. Sweat poured off my scalp and down my back. “The British government is using me to try to keep her safe. She's gone missing, and so have two of my friends.”

“Emma and Sumner?” The knife left my throat.

“You've seen them?” I nearly went limp with relief, for myself and for Emma.

She eyed me, the blade still in her hand. “Kira's with them.”

“Thank heavens. Where?”

“They said home. Wherever that is.”

Our flat. Phyllida would love the company. “I think I know. Do you want to come with me?”

“No. I have enemies, even in England. I have to stay in hiding.”

She was no older than Emma, but she seemed to have the menace and an indifference to life of someone more hardened and crueler. “I know about the attempt on your life in Russia. Do you need anything?”

“No. I have friends here who are protecting me.”

“Not anarchists.” Please, not anarchists.

She shook her head. “No. They want to change the government in Russia, but they want to do it peacefully.”

“How can I get in touch with you?”

Her smile reached her eyes, now the blue of a summer lake. “I'll get in touch with you. Go on. Rejoin your friends before they call out the peelers.”

“Thanks for the information, Nadia. And next time, please keep that knife put away.”

She winced. “Sorry. Your collar is ruined.” Slipping the fabric down slightly, she added, “It's only a scratch. I hope it does not pain you too much.”

It was my turn to smile. “Not anymore.” I was getting out of here.

I walked back down the narrow alley and out into the street. The carriage sat waiting for me. When I walked up to it, the footman jumped down and Blackford threw open the door.

As soon as I was inside, he said, “You're hurt. What happened?”

“I received word that Emma is at home. It took a lot of persuasion to get them to tell me.” I couldn't say a word about the princess or Nadia in front of Sussex. I was certain Blackford was
keeping him in the dark. I hoped Blackford understood the message I tried to convey.

“Should we do battle with these ruffians?” Sussex asked.

I wished he didn't always sound like a character in an operetta. “No. They've slipped back into their hiding places by now. And truly, I'm not hurt. This was an accident.”

“An accident that could have killed you,” Blackford said, scowling.

I couldn't wait any longer to check if Emma and Princess Kira were at our home. “Could I ask Your Grace to take me home? I live near Leicester Square.”

“Of course, Miss Peabody. After your unfortunate encounter, you must be exhausted.” Blackford gave me such a look of innocence that I glared in reply. Nevertheless, he gave the order and we were again in motion.

“I feel responsible for your injury, Miss Peabody. I wanted to follow you into that alley to protect you, but Blackford said you'd learn more on your own about your sister's whereabouts.”

Sussex looked so mortified that I reached out and touched his puppy-soft gloved hand. “He was right. Those ruffians would have wanted to fight with you rather than give up any information about my sister. They would have instantly recognized your superiority. I, on the other hand, was no threat. Eventually, they gave in to my pleading.”

Sussex looked placated and patted my hand.

The corners of Blackford's mouth edged upward for a moment. Then he looked serious again as he said, “I'm glad you were successful. What should I tell the Duchess of Hereford?”

“Nothing. I'll go back and explain my absence once I take care of my neck and change my shirt.”

The driver, having brought Blackford to my flat before, rolled down my street on his way to Leicester Square and when I gave the word, Blackford signaled the coach to stop. With words of gratitude to Their Graces, I climbed down and headed indoors.

When I knocked, Emma opened the door, took one look at my neck, and shrieked as she gave me a strong hug. I embraced her just as tightly, relieved to see her alive and in one piece after her twenty-four-hour disappearance.

I opened my teary eyes to see Sumner, Phyllida, and Princess Kira crowding around us in the small entry hall. “Thank goodness you're all right.”

Emma replied, “You're not. Who cut you? Nadia?”

What had Emma's experience with Nadia been like? “Nadia told me where you were. And Princess Kira, we need to get you back to Hereford House before any more trouble starts. Let me change my shirt and I'll take you back.”

I didn't realize I'd forgotten to speak to her in French until she replied in English. “Thank you.”

I gave her a sharp look, and she blushed. “I hoped to find out what is occurring by pretending not to know English. May we keep pretending?”

“Yes. It gives me a reason to keep giving you English lessons and to keep watch in the household.”

Sumner took hold of my head and turned it one way and the other. “A tot of brandy, Lady Phyllida, please.”

“I'm fine, Sumner.”

“It's for the outside of you, not the inside. Keep this cut from festering.”

Phyllida returned with a small measure of brandy in a glass and Emma led me toward the bathing room.

“Just as I showed you,” Sumner called out.

“Sumner's been teaching you how to care for injuries?” I asked as she shoved me into the room ahead of her.

“Yes. Let's get this blouse off of you.”

My shirt was ruined. The brandy stung. The bandage was uncomfortable. Emma was being unusually silent. I broke the silence between us with, “What happened?”

“We spent the day following the woman, Nadia, until she finally came to roost after dark in a three-story building. We kept watch, waiting to see who else would join her. Just as we were deciding whether to break into the building and risk the woman escaping again, she left. We followed her to Hereford House. She went inside and came back out with Princess Kira. We followed them to the same building in the East End. It was hours after midnight before we saw them go inside. They didn't come back out again.”

This didn't explain where Emma had been during the night. My fears that Emma had given herself to a man who couldn't support a family were growing.

We didn't have time to discuss this. Our first priority should be to get the princess back to Hereford House before her reputation, and her wedding, were ruined. “How did you make contact with the princess?”

“Nadia and the princess came out in the morning and we stopped them half a block away. Nadia encouraged the princess to come back with us.” Emma touched my neck one final time. “There. That should do it.”

I was in a foul mood by the time I put on a fresh blouse and was ready to leave with the princess. As I reached the front door, I turned around to Emma and said, “You might want to let Sir
Broderick know you're safe and sound. Half the Archivist Society is running around the East End looking for you.”

“Wonderful,” Emma grumbled. Sumner looked uncomfortable.

The princess put me in a better mood by finding our travel by omnibus an adventure. She looked out the window, remarking on everything she saw. She asked about routes passing the National Gallery. She studied the colors in women's clothing. She marveled at the greenery in all the parks and squares we passed.

Then she ruined it all by saying, “Who designs your dresses?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your dresses are plain. Dowdy. You need more frills and brighter colors.”

I liked my dresses the way they were. I gave her a cold stare and said, “What about your frock, Princess?” It was a deep blue without frills or ornamentation except for a light blue collar and cuffs. This was the first dress I'd seen her in that I would wear.

“Nadia told me to wear something plain and not to put on any jewels. That way I could fit in better in her neighborhood.”

“What did you think of where she lives?”

“The neighborhood is very poor, but Nadia's room is nice. I felt at home there.”

I couldn't picture this spoiled girl being at home anywhere in the East End. “How did you reach Nadia?”

“She came to the house and led me back to her place. She's living in a building with a family who came from Kiev. They had to escape the tsar's men.”

“Does Nadia think her mother was murdered by the tsar's men?”

The princess shook her head, studying the traffic passing us. Her attention was captured by a shiny maroon-colored carriage.

“What time did you and Nadia get to her house?”

“Not late. Perhaps eleven. Nadia hailed a hansom cab for us not far from Hereford House that took us most of the way. Nadia said she stopped him before we arrived at her home so the driver couldn't report where we went.” She looked at me then. “What shall I tell Sussex?”

“I told him you wanted to paint today without being disturbed. If we can get in without him seeing you, you'll be in the clear.”

“Then we'll go in from the mews.”

The princess had been too distracted by the sights to have lied to me about the time she arrived at Nadia's house. So why did Emma lie? I suspected I knew the answer.

We slipped in from the mews without being seen and entered by the back door of Hereford House. I could hear raised voices nearby and sobbing from below stairs. I led the way to the morning room, where we shed our hats and gloves. Then, certain we looked like we'd been in the house, we followed the noise to the front hall.

Blackford was questioning one of his footmen while the Duchess of Hereford rubbed her arms and one of the Hereford footmen tried to explain something. I stepped forward and said, “Your Graces, is anything amiss?”

The duchess's jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered. “Miss Peabody. Princess. We've had a domestic accident. Nothing to concern you.”

Blackford turned from his footman, one of those who'd bounced Ivanov down the hall. The footman held a cloth to his head that was smeared with the dark red of dried blood. “It appears Ivanov has abandoned his post. He has vanished, along with all of his gear. And he attacked my footman.”

“I'm glad Ivanov's gone. I didn't like him,” Princess Kira said with a pout.

When I'd last seen Ivanov, he'd been unconscious and trussed up like a Christmas goose. I needed a meeting of the Archivist Society that night. But first, I wanted to learn from Blackford how Ivanov had escaped.

A childish voice floated down the stairs, and then Lady Daisy hopped partway down, one hand held by her tutor, Amelia Whitten. “We thought we'd go for a walk in the garden,” the governess said and widened her eyes as she looked at the group below her. “Is that all right?”

“Perhaps not this afternoon,” the duchess said. “How about if we take the carriage out and go to a park? Just the three of us.”

“Yes,” Daisy exclaimed and clapped her hands together.

The duchess was looking wan, as if she needed to get out of the house more than her daughter did.

“I'm going upstairs to paint,” the princess said.

Since I was no longer needed, I headed to the back stairs to find the source of the sobbing. I reached the servants' hall to find a cluster of maids, the housekeeper, and the cook surrounding an hysterical maid with an ice bag on her face. I tapped the housekeeper on the shoulder to get her attention. “What happened?”

“Sally was in the way of that brute when he escaped from the game larder. She leaned back into the wall to get out of his way, but he punched her anyway,” the housekeeper said.

“Sally said he smiled before he hit her,” one of the maids added. “And he said, ‘Give that to your mistress.'”

Sally vigorously nodded her head while still holding the cold to her face.

“I'm sure she imagined it,” the housekeeper said. “Don't make him more of a monster than he is.”

“It would be difficult to make him sound worse than he is,” I told them. “Did Sally see anyone who didn't belong in the house?
Someone had to free Ivanov from his bonds. He was well tied up and guarded.”

“Sally,” the housekeeper said, “did you see anyone besides Ivanov?”

She shook her head, still sobbing.

•   •   •

I'D ONLY BEEN
using the telephone for a little over a year at this point, but I don't know how I lived before Blackford put one in my bookshop and Sir Broderick put one in his study. When I left Hereford House that afternoon, I went directly to the bookshop and called Sir Broderick. We needed to have a meeting of the Archivist Society that night. I requested him to telephone Blackford's residence to invite him as well.