CHAPTER SIX

“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.”

With ill grace, the soldier shoved past us and picked up the awkward packages. He led the way along the sidewalk, struggling with the bulky parcels that threatened to slip to the pavement with every step he took toward the carriage. Princess Kira lagged farther and farther behind.

Before Ivanov reached the carriage, the princess held up one gloved finger to Sussex and disappeared into the bookshop. Sussex turned to Blackford and shrugged. I’d positioned myself in front of Lady Raminoff so I could block her way.

Sussex wandered into the bookshop. I knew Princess Kira had headed straight to the back door and freedom. Hatchards clerks were used to eccentric behavior by their clients and would hardly notice one more well-dressed customer strolling out the back. Sussex would be too late to find her. But how had she learned the layout of a shop she’d never visited before?

Ivanov reached the carriage and shoved some of the packages through the window so he had a hand free to open the door. Then he looked back, didn’t see the princess, and roared fearsome Russian curses as canvases and frames flew in all directions.

The carriage horses shied at the soldier’s war cry. Bystanders ducked as they were pelted with flying frames or parcels of art supplies while Ivanov stormed toward us. Behind me, Lady Raminoff shoved me forward to get to the door ahead of the guard.

She made it inside, but I collided with the guard. He shoved me back, knocking me off my feet. I would have fallen if Blackford hadn’t grabbed me. Before I could run into the store, he said, “What’s going on?”

I righted myself, hanging on to Blackford’s arm longer than strictly necessary. Opportunities like this didn’t happen every day. “She’s meeting that mystery girl in the alley behind the shops.”

“Come on.” He grabbed my arm and hurried me down the sidewalk past the carriage and the puzzled-looking driver, ignoring irate passersby who’d been struck by flying parcels. He hauled me down an alley next to a music shop. I tripped over uneven bricks and stubbed my toes more than once.

I cried out, but Blackford dragged me along at a pace that left me panting. My corset dug into my ribs. We reached the back alley and Blackford stopped. I collapsed against a grimy brick wall and closed my eyes, gasping for breath. My feet throbbed. I wished I’d dressed for active pursuits.

“This way,” Blackford said.

I opened my eyes to see him gesture to the princess and the other young woman to enter the music shop. They murmured a few words between them. Then the princess came toward us and the unknown young woman ran the other way down the alley.

Several shops down, I saw Emma and Sumner lingering by the back of a milliner’s.

Hurrying past us, the princess rushed down the alley, Blackford and I following. “Who was that?” I managed to gasp out in French.

“Who was who?” came her reply.

“Don’t play that game,” Blackford said. “You have to trust someone.”

“I trust no one. It is the only way to survive,” she snapped back. Then, looking slightly breathless, the princess stepped onto the sidewalk and slowed her pace as she reached the carriage.

She only had time to adjust her hat before Sussex came out of Hatchards bookshop and saw her. With a smile, he called back into the shop and then walked toward her. I doubt he even noticed Blackford and me. That was good. Blackford didn’t have a mark on him or a hair out of place, but I was brushing dirt off my skirt and tucking stray curls into my hairdo.

Princess Kira turned to look at me and clucked her tongue. “You look like a slut,” she said in French before she straightened my hat.

I beat my gloves together to shake off the slime from the alley wall as Sussex and then Lady Raminoff joined us. The princess looked at them and then at her art supplies. “Mon Dieu. Why did he make such a mess of my paints? Please help me.”

The two dukes began picking up her purchases while Lady Raminoff let off a blast of Russian. Princess Kira responded in kind.

I looked around. “Where is Ivanov?”

“He went into the alley looking for the princess. He should return soon,” Sussex said.

Blackford and I glanced at each other. Had he captured the young Russian woman?

A moment later, the guard marched out of Hatchards. He immediately barked at both Princess Kira and Lady Raminoff in Russian. He didn’t appear out of breath or any sweatier than usual; it must be all that marching soldiers do. Lady Raminoff cringed, but the princess stared at him, completely unmoved.

At least the Russian guard was alone. I hoped Emma and Sumner had better luck following the girl after she escaped.

The princess pointed at the art supplies the two dukes were collecting and snapped out a Russian command.

Ivanov curled his upper lip and snatched up the few remaining packages. Then he held the door open while we climbed inside. We were still trying to organize the princess’s purchases in the tight space when Ivanov slammed the door, climbed up on the back of the carriage, and told the driver to return home.

Sussex and I were both standing as the carriage jerked into motion. He flew onto Lady Raminoff as frames cascaded down her legs. I hung on to the packages of paints and brushes as I sat down hard in Blackford’s lap.

Lady Raminoff berated Sussex in French for his rudeness, smacking him on the shoulder with her parasol. Blackford lifted me off of him as I begged his forgiveness for my clumsiness. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to enjoy my scandalous position.

Princess Kira held one hand over her mouth, trying to keep her giggles contained.

“Emma and Sumner were in position,” Blackford murmured, followed a little louder by, “I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“Only my dignity. Are you uninjured, Your Grace?” Then I whispered, “Tonight.”

“Yes.”

•   •   •

WHEN I HEARD a knock at the front door that evening, I ran to answer it, hoping it was Emma. When I saw it was Blackford, I sighed and said, “Have you heard anything?”

“Not yet. It may take them a while. They’ll be back when they can.” He walked past me and left his hat, gloves, and cane on the entry table. Then he strolled into the parlor.

I called Phyllida and followed the duke. “But it’s the East End. There are cutthroats and thieves and murderers lurking there. What if they can’t return?”

“It’s London, not Calcutta.”

Phyllida walked in and he bowed to her.

She curtsied and sat, twisting her fingers. “I’m worried.”

“I would be, too, if it were only Emma,” Blackford said. “But Sumner is with her. The two of them together could withstand an army of thieves and cutthroats. No one in the East End stands a chance against them.”

“If that were true, why haven’t they returned?” I snapped.

“They haven’t found the girl yet, or she’s still on the move. Don’t worry.” He looked at each of us in turn. “Emma is going to laugh at you for worrying so.”

“Let her. I’m worried.” I held Blackford’s gaze with an angry stare. “I think we should send in some people to look for them.”

“And ruin all their good work by calling attention to them? They wouldn’t appreciate it. I’ll check hospitals, jails, and morgues, if it will make you rest easier.”

“It would, Your Grace.” And I’d go to the bookshop early in the morning to check on deliveries, orders, and stocking the shelves so my business didn’t flounder while both Emma and I were away. This mysterious Russian woman wasn’t really our concern, but we were both heavily involved. And now Emma was missing.

Again, the thought hit me in the face like a blast of winter wind. Emma was missing.