“Too much?” he asked.

“As flattery, or as fact?” I replied.

“Either.”

“Both.” I heard a few feminine chuckles around us.

“How long have you been in London?” The duke moved his body slightly to block Sir Henry from slipping closer to my side.

“I just arrived. Lady Phyllida, this is an old friend from India, Mr. Ranleigh, now the Duke of Blackford. Your Grace, this is Lady Phyllida Monthalf, my late husband’s cousin. Lady Phyllida has been kind enough to take me under her wing to introduce me around London. And do you know Sir Henry Stanford?”

“Yes,” both men growled in unison.

“Ladies, why don’t we take a seat? The musicians are tuning up.” Blackford tucked my arm in his.

I swung around ungracefully to face the shipbuilder. “Sir Henry, I’m very glad to make your acquaintance. I hope we meet again soon.”

“So do I, Mrs. Monthalf.” He bowed to me and then shot a look at Blackford’s back that should have drawn blood. Nearby, I noticed two old biddies, dripping with lace and jewels, whispering as they looked in our direction.

The duke escorted us to a small, delicate sofa and then sat on a sturdy chair on my side of the sofa. “You look delectable.” I must have appeared surprised, because before I could revel in his words he added, “You could attempt to look enamored of whatever I’m saying.”

“Where’s Baron von Steubfeld?” I whispered and smiled up at him before scanning the room. Every seat was taken and latecomers were squeezing in wherever they could. With all these bodies, the room was becoming sweltering despite the relief of a small breeze.

“Directly across the room from us. In the fancy Prussian uniform. Fair haired, sitting very straight, talking to the woman on our side of him.”

I could see his face clearly as he talked to the gray-haired woman in mourning next to him. It was a lean, cruel face, thin lipped, sharply beaked, with a wide mustache like his kaiser’s.

Past him, I saw Sir Jonah Denby coming in the doorway. “There’s your friend.”

The duke looked in the direction I indicated. “Who?”

“Sir Jonah Denby.”

“Who?”

“Sir Jonah Denby. Works in Whitehall. You told him I was involved in—this.” No one seemed to be listening in, but I wanted to be cautious.

Blackford leaned over and murmured in my ear, “I don’t know anyone by that name, and I’d never tell anyone about your role.”

I swallowed, my nerves making my hands tremble. “Who is he?” When I looked around again, Sir Jonah had vanished.

Blackford shook his head slightly. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

“He knows who I really am. He could ruin everything,” I whispered in his ear.

He moved his head to nuzzle my cheek. “We won’t let him.” Then a man slid past us and Blackford shifted away from me.

I looked around the room, trying to spot Sir Jonah. Here was a danger we hadn’t planned on; someone who knew the duke, someone who knew me by my real name, and someone we knew nothing about. He could ruin our plan. He could be the man who’d hired the thief.

I studied the baron, wondering if he was truly behind this plot. At that moment, he looked past the woman he was talking to and directly at me. I was shocked for a second at being caught staring, but then I remembered my role and smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. He glared for an instant before he nodded in response and then turned to the lady on his other side.

I glanced up at the duke and he gave me a reassuring smile. “We’re in this together,” he murmured.

That night I saw the baron’s glare in my dreams just before I heard Blackford tell me we were together.

*   *   *

EMMA AND I rose earlier than usual the next morning to eat, dress, and travel to the bookshop to begin our usual day. I immediately checked the cash box and the ledger from the previous afternoon while Emma dusted and straightened a few shelves. Within minutes, both Frances Atterby and Grace Yates came in and set to work.

Grace, one of our younger Archivist Society members, began dusting shelves with Emma while Frances talked to the day’s first customer. I glanced over to see the middle-aged woman selecting the English Illustrated Magazine and the Illustrated London News. Apparently she was a fan of short stories and serialized novels, and I was happy to see her spend her money with us.

I joined Grace and said, “What are you doing here? You have a full-time job as secretary and librarian to Lord Barnwood.”

“With this heat, he’s closed up his London home for a few weeks. Gone fishing in Scotland ’til the heat ends. I told him I needed to stay in London, so I have some time off. I just need to check at the house once or twice a day for messages and to take care of any correspondence.”

“I’m sure Frances is glad of the help.”

“She is. And we can call Sir Broderick anytime we need reinforcements.” She reached out and patted my arm. “Relax, Georgia. Everything is fine.”

I covered a wide yawn. “Thank you, Grace, for the help.”

She smiled at me. “What are you doing here? You have an investigation to conduct. Aren’t you worried someone will come in here and see you?”

“Not in the morning. I’ve learned aristocrats don’t show their faces before luncheon, and that’s held at a late hour.”

“Because they’re sleeping all morning, as you should be.”

In answer, I yawned again. “I returned late last night, but I’m sure most evenings will be much quieter. Now, on this investigation. Could you please have Sir Broderick learn anything he can about a Sir Jonah Denby?”

Despite my absence on the previous afternoon, the bookshop had run smoothly. None of our customers remarked on my disappearance. Maybe I shouldn’t have worried so much.

I looked over to see Charles Dickens, a brown-striped cat with a notch in one ear from a fight, stroll through our open doorway and hop up in the front window. After rearranging the stock on display to suit him, he curled up on the ledge and went to sleep. He must have temporarily run out of mice on our block to murder.

A few minutes later, while waiting on a woman interested in the newest novels, I spotted Emma picking up Dickens and holding him against her shoulder. The cat never let me do that. But then, Dickens had a stare that reminded me of Blackford’s. They were both first-class hunters.

CHAPTER SIX

IN the early afternoon, Emma and I took the sweltering omnibus most of the way to our borrowed home and then walked in the glaring sunshine to our doorstep in time for luncheon. As soon as I gobbled down a light meal, Emma had to dress me for afternoon calls.

Before I’d finished dressing, a maid brought up a card from Sir Henry Stanford. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute, and let Lady Monthalf know he’s here. Emma, help me get ready, please.”

As soon as the last pin was in my hair, I rushed downstairs. Phyllida was already in the parlor discussing the weather.

Sir Henry rose to his feet and said, “Mrs. Monthalf. How nice to see you again.”

“And you, Sir Henry. Did you enjoy the musical evening last night?”

“I would have enjoyed it more if you had been sitting with me.”

“I’m sorry. Ranleigh has always been a bit arrogant.” It felt disloyal, but I needed Sir Henry on my side if I were to discover his secrets.

“Unless he’s already claimed tonight, I’d like to take you ladies to dinner and then to the theater. The Lyceum is showing the last Shakespearean play of the season.”