Goschen gave a dry smile. “Both. We can’t afford to have these drawings fall into foreign hands both for the safety of the country and for the good of our business interests.”

“Kenneth Gattenger can’t afford for us to fail to catch his wife’s killer. He’s facing a hangman’s noose,” I reminded them.

“You’re Mrs. Gattenger’s kin. Why are you so concerned for her husband?” Lord Fleetwhite asked.

That wasn’t true, and they knew about my connection to the Archivist Society. What had Blackford told them about me? “I want the right man to hang for Clara’s death. That man isn’t her husband.”

It wasn’t until the roast course, leg of lamb with carrots and spinach, had been brought in and the servants had removed themselves, along with the nasty-looking pigeon dishes, that Lord Fleetwhite spoke again. “How do we know Gattenger wasn’t a party to the theft? We have the letter passed between the Germans and him. He was seen talking to a German agent two evenings before the theft. He needed the money. Snelling might have been there by appointment.”

“We know Snelling wasn’t there by invitation because Clara was killed. Ken Gattenger would never have allowed that.” My fork and the carrot on it went back on my plate.

“An accident during a falling-out of thieves.”

I stared down the table at Lord Fleetwhite. “I asked Gattenger about the letter.”

“You did what?” Fleetwhite raised his voice. Looking around the room, he lowered it to a conversational pitch. “He’s not supposed to know we have it.”

“Well, he does. And he admits he received it and gave them an equivocal answer. He needed the money for his wife and unborn child and so he considered selling the design to the Germans. Clara miscarried, and his reason for taking the money was gone. When he told them no, the Germans threatened him.”

“Which Germans?”

“It was dark. He couldn’t see the man’s face.”

“How convenient.” Fleetwhite’s mouth closed in a thin line.

“He tried to stop a thief from taking the ship’s plans.”

“After he’d agreed to sell them to a foreign power. He may have planned for the burglar to come into the study. As far as I’m concerned, he’s guilty of treason and at least partially responsible for his wife’s death. He can rot in jail until we get those blueprints back, and then he can have his trial.” Fleetwhite tossed his serviette on the table.

Goschen nodded, as did Darby and Nobles.

I shifted forward in my chair, ready to disagree, when Blackford laid a hand over mine. I looked up into his dark eyes to see him give a small shake of his head.

“We’ll need some police presence outside Lord Harwin’s estate this weekend to capture Snelling with the plans,” the duke told them.

“Nobles and I will both be there to help, but the police are already stretched thin watching the Germans in London and now the newly arrived Russians for this engagement party. There are rumors of anarchist activity. We’ll have to use whatever forces the local constabulary can provide,” Sir William said.

“I’ll see how many Archivist Society members can get away from London for the next few days,” I offered.

“Let me know and I’ll make arrangements for their lodging and travel,” Blackford said. I’m sure his smile was meant to be encouraging.

I returned the smile, feeling anything but reassured. “By the way, why isn’t Sir Jonah Denby here?”

“Old Denby?” Sir William asked. “Why would he be here?”

“He’s approached me a couple of times asking what we’ve learned so far.”

“Why would he be interested? Denby works in the ceremonial office, coordinating events with the palace,” Lord Fleetwhite said.

“You might ask him. He’s been to see me. I didn’t look for him.”

“Have you ever met him before?” Sir William asked.

“No.” The room became very quiet. I looked at their faces staring back at me.

“We’ll talk to Denby tomorrow. In the meantime, don’t tell him anything else. Just in case,” Lord Fleetwhite said.

“Just in case?”

“Just in case he’s another spy on the hunt for those drawings,” Blackford said.

Dinner went on for another three courses, but I didn’t learn anything new. I ate and drank sparingly but still felt sick from worry and weak from fatigue when we were released from the table. With the tepid thanks of three governmental departments, Blackford and I walked into the dark, warm night. I wanted to curl up on the hard carriage bench and go right to sleep, but Blackford had his plan to carry out.

“I think two hours will be sufficient for our tryst,” he said.

I gave him the big yawn I’d been fighting throughout dinner.

He gracefully crossed the carriage to join me on my seat. Putting an arm around me, he said, “You have to learn to look at me with love in your eyes if we’re going to carry this off at Lord Harwin’s.”

He tickled my ear and ran a finger down my neck, until another huge yawn got in his way.

“Oh, Georgia,” he said, pulling me against his soft jacket and kissing the top of my head.

It was dark in the carriage and I was comfortable and safe nestled in Blackford’s embrace. My eyes refused to stay open. He said something, but I couldn’t make any sense of it. He jostled me, but my eyes stayed shut and my mind refused to work.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I awoke to light streaming into my room. Vague memories of riding in the duke’s carriage to carry out a tryst sprang to mind as I leaped up in bed.

“Good. You’re awake,” Emma said.

“How did I get here?” I asked.

“The Duke of Blackford carried you in from his coach. It seems he couldn’t wake you. He laid you down and wished us a good night.”

“Blast.”

“Apparently you destroyed your chance to begin your affair with him last night. He was put out that you’re ruining his reason to have us invited to the Harwin estate.”

“I’ll just have to flirt harder today.”

“I think it’s going to take more than that.” As she handed me a dressing gown, Emma added, “Were you going to, eh, er . . .”

“I will not be any man’s mistress. Especially not a duke who will soon be looking for a duchess and getting rid of any inconvenient mistresses.” The idea of Blackford tossing me aside was a physical ache in my chest. I enjoyed his company too much to dare complicate our friendship.

She put up her hands, palms out. “I’m sorry. Get cleaned up. It’s almost time to go.”

Was she sorry because I’d failed that night, or because Blackford would soon lose interest in me when the investigation ended?

“I need to send a message to Sir Broderick. Anyone available from the Archivist Society for the next few days must travel out there to encircle Lord Harwin’s gardens. The police don’t have enough manpower to watch for Snelling and those ship plans. I don’t think Whitehall and the Admiralty believe Gattenger is innocent in the theft and the murder. We’ll be practically on our own.”

I wrote a note during breakfast and included Blackford’s offer to arrange for lodging and transport. Emma gave Mary directions and sent her off to Sir Broderick’s, certain she was plucky enough to find her way and honest enough not to read the note.

I’d rarely traveled by train, since I seldom left London. I couldn’t guess how the Duke of Blackford would turn this unusual event into a surprise, but he’d promised Phyllida to do so.

Phyllida, Emma, and I traveled to Paddington Station with our luggage piled on the roof and back of a carriage. When we descended into the swirling mass of porters, passengers, and news boys, Phyllida took a step backward. She collided with our cabbie, who fell forward, shoving the trunk he held into a porter who was unloading more luggage. Then she swung around to apologize and stepped on the foot of an office worker racing past. I took her by the arm and led her to a quiet spot along the wall while Emma saw to the unloading.