Sir Henry, his mouth dropping open for a moment at the sight of the prime minister standing in front of him, pressed his lips together and bowed.
The duke made the introductions, saving Sir Henry’s for last as he said, “And before he leaves, this is Sir Henry Stanford.”
I was amazed at how gracefully Sir Henry bowed to the prime minister and his wife and maneuvered around me without coming within reach of the duke, all in a small, crowded area. Gracefully enough to be the burglar?
No. We knew Mick Snelling was the burglar from Ken Gattenger’s drawing. We just didn’t know who’d hired him, or how they planned to exchange the blueprints for cash, or if the person who’d hired Snelling was only a middleman, putting the drawings up for bid.
The possibilities bothered me for the entire first half of the performance. That, and hearing the duke and the prime minister call each other Ranleigh and Cecil. I felt completely out of place.
Phyllida shot me little glances of worry. She’d no doubt heard the tone of my talk with Sir Henry, if not the actual words. I gave her confident smiles in return, while inside I knew I had to deal with yet another problem.
When intermission came, Lady Salisbury murmured, “Prepare yourselves for a great deal of curtsying. By now, everyone in the hall knows the prime minister is here, and there will be a line around the building wanting to greet him or ask if he’s enjoying the concert. Anything to come to his attention.”
“Is it as bad as all that?” I asked.
Voices in the entryway to our box caught our attention. “Yes,” she answered as we rose and curtsied to a duke and duchess.
The parade of British aristocracy and foreign diplomats continued for the entire intermission. Mrs. Monthalf was gracious. Inside, I was overawed.
Near the end, Baron von Steubfeld and Lady Bennett appeared with a count and the Dowager Duchess of Bad Ramshed and her daughter. The duke introduced them to the prime minister and Lady Salisbury. I slid in next to Lady Bennett and said, “So nice to see you again. The duke says we’re to be guests at the same party in the country. I look forward to improving our acquaintance.”
“Perhaps you’ll do us the honor of traveling with us in the Duke of Northumberland’s saloon car,” Blackford added, more to the baron than Lark Bennett.
“Oh, how lovely,” Lady Bennett immediately exclaimed, “we’d love to travel in such a civilized manner,” leaving the baron no choice but to nod agreement as he looked daggers at Blackford.
After all the well-wishers had gone and the orchestra readied to strike the first note, I whispered to the duke, “I invited Sir Henry to travel with us.”
His reply was a low grumble. I’d have thought he’d be glad.
“At least the Dragoness of Bad Ramshed won’t be with us,” Phyllida said.
“No, she won’t be there,” the duke said, eyebrows rising. “‘Dragoness’?”
“A difference of opinion,” I muttered.
I nodded off a few times in the second half. The heat of so many bodies, my long hours, and the strain of acting a role all evening were taking their toll. Phyllida elbowed me twice and the duke, who sat behind me and to the side, took to running a finger down my neck in the most sensual manner. Unfortunately, all I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep.
We left the hall and saw the prime minister and his wife off before the duke escorted us around the building looking for our carriage. A confusion of horses and vehicles circled the round structure, each jockeying for better position or to park in front of a different doorway. As we moved along the outdoor walkway, nodding greetings to the famous, Blackford said to Phyllida when we reached an open exit, “I don’t think you should walk any further. The carriage should find us in a moment.”
Phyllida glanced up at him with a puzzled frown, looked around, and said, “I suppose you’re right.”
At that moment, the baron and Lady Bennett walked outside with the others who’d sat in their box.
Lady Bennett was holding a large chocolate box from the most aristocratic candy maker in the city. A box like the one I’d seen in Rose Snelling’s room. A box that could hold the folded warship drawings. I moved closer to take a look, saying, “Oh, what a fortunate lady you are,” when I was shoved roughly from behind.
The momentum carried me into Lady Bennett, knocking her off her feet. The duke and the baron did all they could do to keep us from landing in a sprawled heap on the pavement. The dowager duchess shrieked and grabbed her daughter. I managed to shove on the candy box, sending two pounds of the most exquisite chocolates rolling in all directions under our feet as the box spilled open.
“Oh, look what you’ve done,” Lady Bennett exclaimed, her tiara slipping to one side and her evening cloak twisted around her.
“I am so sorry. Some ruffian shoved me. Where is he?” I glanced around, suspecting I’d recognize a face, but everyone in sight was well-heeled and middle-aged.
“There he is. You must catch him,” the dowager duchess screeched in a thick accent and pointed.
“No. It wasn’t him,” Phyllida said. “I’m afraid he’s gone now.”
“He must be an anarchist. We must stop him,” the count exclaimed and took two steps forward, only to collide with Phyllida.
She grabbed on to his lapels, murmuring, “An anarchist? I’m so frightened. You must stay here and protect us.”
“I don’t know who it was. I was too busy trying to catch Mrs. Monthalf and Lady Bennett,” the duke said and glanced around.
If he’d really been trying to catch me, I was certain I’d never have collided with Lady Bennett. And the whole affair was carried out so Phyllida was never in any danger of being injured.
Fortunately, by the time Lady Magda calmed her mother, Phyllida stopped rejoicing over everyone’s lack of injuries, and I stopped apologizing, the baron’s coach had arrived and he left with an aggravated Lady Bennett straightening her outfit and the dowager duchess snapping orders at the others. Everyone was scraping chocolate off their shoes.
Moments later, the duke’s coach arrived and we climbed inside. Once we were moving, I asked, “Was that Sumner?”
“Yes.”
“How did he know about the chocolate box?”
“He was watching them from inside the hall. Lady Bennett was given the box by a man he didn’t know. A man not in uniform or livery.”
“How could he have told you?”
“He came into our box in the second half. Didn’t you hear him?”
“No.”
“You must have been sleeping.”
“I would have been, if you hadn’t kept waking me.”
“I heard the whole thing. That’s why I knew to stop the count. Your friend needs to move faster next time if he wants to get away,” Phyllida told him. She was enjoying her role too much.
“If he’d moved any faster, he’d have called attention to himself in that crowd,” the duke replied. “Don’t go to the bookshop tomorrow, Georgia—er, Georgina. You need to get some rest.”
“I can’t, Your Grace.” I snapped the words at him. “I have to get everything ready for my absence. My several-day-long absence. Along with Emma’s and Jacob’s absences, I might add.”
He brushed the air, as if shoving away a pesky fly or my argument. “Sumner is filling in for Jacob admirably. I’m sure your Mrs. Atterby is doing well. Things are going splendidly. You need to get some sleep.”
“No, Your Grace.” Frances was doing well, and Sir Broderick was aiding her admirably. Still, it was my bookshop. My responsibility. And my livelihood.
“Lady Phyllida, can you reason with her?”
She smiled at him. “It hasn’t worked so far.”
He leaned back in his seat, his arms folded over his chest, and grumbled. “All right,” he said at last. “Do what you have to do tomorrow. The next day, whether you and your shop are ready or not, we will be leaving from the train station.”
“Including Emma?” I was hoping she could stay behind. She knew almost as much about the bookshop as I did.