CHAPTER TEN

“ARE 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.”

I smiled and curtsied to him as he bowed. Inside, I was deflated, but I tried to mask my disappointment.

He walked off with the portly, middle-aged man and I was certain I was already forgotten. I wandered around the edge of the room, watching the dancers twirl across the floor and listening to the Babel of voices that filled the air around me.

The swarm of bodies had warmed the room enough that I was no longer freezing. Unfortunately, their heavy use of clashing scents made me want to sneeze. No one glanced my way. I felt very unroyal in this illustrious gathering.

Many of the men were dressed in the uniforms of their country’s armies, and their costumes were more colorful than the ladies’. The rows of medals on their chests gleamed brighter than many of the ladies’ jewels. There was much to see and report back to Emma and Phyllida.

No, just Phyllida. My mood sank lower.

A page in a red uniform with gold braid approached me and, bowing, handed me a note. I took it and read handwriting now familiar from the notes he’d sent to the bookshop.

Follow the page to the mezzanine and join me in the parlor.

Count Farkas

Finally, I was going to meet my parents’ killer.

I could scarcely contain my satisfaction. I was going to face the evil man and Blackford wasn’t there to stem my brutal remarks. And they would be brutal. He’d killed three people in London and who knew how many others around the world. I envisioned myself burning this shameless man into abject misery with my scalding tongue.

It was too bad I wasn’t allowed to have him arrested in the embassy. Perhaps I could have the police waiting when he left the ball.

I rounded the floor on the page’s heels and climbed the red-carpeted staircase to the mezzanine. The music was muted on this level but the sweeping sounds of the waltz were still clear. Several couples walked past me in close conversation. None of them looked my way as I was shown into the parlor.

There were people on this landing and on the floor below to hear me if I screamed. I’d be safe enough if Count Farkas were so foolish as to try to harm me.

The man I’d learned was Count Farkas rose from a gold-brocade-covered sofa and bowed. His silver hair gleamed in the light from the chandelier. He was as neatly and crisply dressed as Blackford, but his jacket held a line of medals. I was glad Blackford would never dress with such ostentation.

The door shut behind me with a solid thud, and I looked around to find the room was windowless. Red silk covered every inch of the walls, including the backs of the doors. I could no longer hear the orchestra.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be disturbed. The walls of this room are very thick,” he said, walking toward me.

Good. My words would be freer without an audience. Still, I’d have been happy to know a rescue party could hear me if I needed to be saved from this madman.

“Won’t you sit down, Miss Fenchurch?”

“I won’t stay that long.” And I was staying between Count Farkas and the door, just in case.

“Are you certain?” When I continued to glare at him, he said, “Very well.” He remained standing several feet away from me, his icy pale eyes holding no emotion. “I am Count Farkas. If you would prefer, you may use the anglicized translation, Mr. Wolf.”

I had no idea how long I had before someone broke up our meeting so I jumped directly to the question I most wanted to ask. I took two small steps toward him and glared. “Are you going to deny that you murdered my parents?”