Emma raised her eyebrows but didn’t respond.
“You’ve heard about what transpired with Lady Peters, von Steubfeld, and Snelling, and no one thought to report what happened here?” the duke asked in an outraged voice.
Sumner stopped grinning and stepped forward, his rigid posture left over from his army service. “We sent a telegram to Cheltenham Spa this morning, only to receive a reply saying the telegram was undeliverable since you were on a train to London. We were discussing the best way to reach you when you walked in, Your Grace.”
“So putting you in the Admiralty records room paid off, Jacob? The clerk who’s been helping von Steubfeld was arrested?” I asked.
“Yes. The baron paid the young man well enough to tip him off, but not well enough to keep his mouth shut when beaten up and facing a long prison sentence,” Jacob said. “It turned out the clerk had been instructed to carry on a conversation on the weaknesses of Gattenger’s ship design within hearing of Sir Henry, knowing Sir Henry was most likely to press Gattenger on the issue. When Gattenger requested a full set of blueprints to take home an hour later, the clerk told the baron, putting the plan into action.”
“Baron von Steubfeld must have immediately hired Snelling for that night, having used his services before, and then visited Lady Bennett to tell her to pass along the rumor about Gattenger and Lady Peters to Clara. Having put all the pieces of his plan into action, the baron sat back and waited. Evil man.” I shut my eyes, thinking how von Steubfeld’s actions had led to two deaths.
“Poor Ken and Clara,” Emma said. “They didn’t deserve this. The baron thought they’d argue somewhere other than the study?”
Blackford said, “He didn’t know them or their household. Von Steubfeld has lost his effectiveness as a spymaster. That will have to be his punishment for now.”
“Doesn’t seem sufficient,” Sumner said.
The duke gave him a dark look. “I said, for now.”
The other faces held the same expression of dawning recognition as mine.
“What goes around comes back,” Frances said. “And are you back for good, Georgia?”
I glanced around the shop. No customers. “Yes. How has it gone?”
“Well, cheap editions on anything to do with royal weddings and grand duchesses and Russians have been flying out of here as quickly as we shelve them. Sir Broderick said to raise our order, and it’s paid off.”
“We’ve only been gone a few days. What has happened?”
“They just announced the engagement of a Russian grand duchess to the son of a cousin of our queen. The wedding will take place next spring, but in the meantime, the Russians are spending a long visit here. Apparently they like our warm English summers.” Frances shrugged and picked up a feather duster.
“It doesn’t feel so warm today.” Had I gotten used to sweltering?
“The weather has been pleasant the last two days. I hope it keeps up,” Grace told us, turning back to the books she’d been shelving.
“Come, Sumner. We need to be about our business, and Georgia and her friends need to reacquaint themselves with their books,” the duke said.
Sumner gave Frances and Grace a bow, turned a heated look on Emma, and walked out of the store.
“Georgia, walk outside with me.” I moved to where the duke stood, and he gave me his arm. Once we stepped outside the door, he faced me and said, “I won’t wait so long to see you again, Georgia.”
“You think you’ll have another case for the Archivist Society soon?” I hurried to say, staring at the sidewalk.
When I glanced up, his expression said he didn’t find my nervous response worthy of either of us. “As long as we have the Georgina Monthalf identity in place, why don’t we go out to the theater or the opera on occasion? I enjoy your company.”
“No, Your Grace. As people at the house party kept reminding me, you need to find a duchess. And since, with your help, I now know his name—”
“Names,” he reminded me.
“I need to find my parents’ killer.”
He gave me a rueful smile. “I’m not certain I like coming in second to a murderer. Blast it, Georgia, you’ve ruined me for vapid misses and afternoons spent in my club without any purpose but making money. I find I like seeking justice and serving my country. You’ve brought a change in my outlook.”
“You could help me locate Count Farkas.”
He searched my face, hope in his eyes. “Anything, if it means I see you more often. You have indeed become habit-forming.”
I held his gaze. “I’m flattered, Your Grace. I will never forget waltzing with you. But we both know you won’t marry a middle-class bookseller. And after my experience as Georgina Monthalf, I’ve realized I won’t accept any close acquaintance with you that’s less than marriage. I am so sorry. If it’s any consolation, it’s breaking my heart.”
He opened his mouth and shut it without making a sound. He then studied the sky and looked at the ground before he lifted his head and said, “I wish it could be otherwise. But if you won’t accept anything else, then I’ll have to settle for seeing you on another investigation very soon.”
He understood I’d never be his mistress. The thought that all we’d ever have were investigations bruised my heart.
“Von Steubfeld is still in England and trying to steal our secrets. The Russians have arrived, followed by intrigue and anarchists. And now we can search for your parents’ killer by name. It will be a turbulent autumn. Georgia, whenever you need to, send for me. And if your country can use your help, I will call on you.” He bowed to kiss my hand and walked off to join Sumner in his tall antique carriage.
As soon as his coach began to roll away, I bit my lip and struggled to smooth my ragged breathing. I caught myself clutching the back of my glove where he’d kissed me and pulled my other hand away. Once I had my emotions under control, I walked inside my shop. I glanced around, marveling at it once again. The shop was mine, and my friends had taken good care of things. I needn’t have worried.
Frances walked over to me, a letter in her hand. “This came in the afternoon post yesterday. Since it was marked private, I set it aside for you.”
The handwriting on the envelope reminded me of the hand on the letter I’d hidden away a few months before. I ripped open the envelope and read the note inside.
Dear Georgia, or should I call you Georgina Monthalf,
Congratulations on catching a spy and rescuing blueprints the British navy finds so important. By now you must know my name and that I am Hungarian. I did not tell Sir Wallace not to tell you my name, but I made certain he couldn’t tell you where I am traveling next.
Do not waste your time looking for me. I have left England and do not know when, if ever, I will return. Give up your dreams of revenge and live your life. It is what I wish for you, and I’m sure it is what your parents would have wanted for you, as well.
Your friend,
V. Farkas
Friend? I would have torn up the single sheet of good writing paper in a fury if I hadn’t stopped myself. I tucked it away under the counter with the other note, the deep blue of the ink burning the words into my brain long after I could no longer see them.
I now knew his name. With that information, the Archivist Society could come up with more. A great deal more. I was not about to give up my quest to see V. Farkas hang for murder.