“You make it sound like he murdered my cousin,” Phyllida said in a quiet voice. She sat completely still, looking totally composed.

“Those are the facts, and based on those facts, Gattenger has been arrested for his wife’s murder. Scotland Yard is certain he’s guilty.” The duke stared at her as if daring her to disagree.

“They are wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen Kenny and Clara together. They fitted each other like a hand in a glove.” Phyllida spoke with aristocratic certainty as she waved her hand.

The duke looked around the room. “I was called in as soon as Scotland Yard informed Whitehall and the Admiralty. There is another possibility, which our government both fears and refuses to acknowledge. A possibility I want the Archivist Society to investigate.”

He gave his words a moment to sink in, and then continued. “There is a chance that a burglar entered the room, killed Clara Gattenger, and removed the drawings. Our hot, dry weather meant their windows were open and the ground around the windows was hard. There are paving stones stretching across the back garden to the gate in the fence leading to an alley. A burglar could have conceivably entered and left without leaving a trace.”

The duke waited for a response. When no one spoke, he said, “We believe the intended recipient of the ship plans, the employer of the burglar, is the German master spy in Britain, Baron von Steubfeld. He’s a member of the kaiser’s embassy staff here in London. Von Steubfeld was already under watch by our Naval Intelligence Department. Furthermore, he knows it. So far we don’t believe he’s received the drawings, but we’d like more eyes on him. Eyes he doesn’t know.”

“We can help with that,” Sir Broderick said.

“Good. The drawings are on seven sheets of very large paper, about a yard in each direction, either rolled in a tube or folded into a package. The last sheet was found partially burned by the fireplace and may not be with the others.”

“Are we to believe von Steubfeld will be upset to receive less than the entire package?” Sir Broderick asked.

“Yes. The last sheet is key if the Germans want to build a ship to these specifications. The baron will not be pleased if he receives less than what he paid for.” The duke gave us a smile that made my blood chill.

“Why would the Germans want our designs? They have their own naval architects. I don’t understand why they’d bother to steal our plans.” Despite the kaiser’s affection for our queen, I knew the German government didn’t think highly of Britain.

The duke gave me a disapproving look. “If they know what our ships are capable of, they can build their ships and create their battle plans to defeat us.”

“Battle plans?” I bristled at his disparagement. What a ridiculous point of view. Our navy was the greatest the world had ever seen. “Why would the Germans want to fight us? They’d lose.”

He leaned toward me, a determined glow in his eyes. “They will fight us. And they’ll do anything they can to ensure they’ll win. That’s why they’re speeding up their shipbuilding schedule. That’s why they have spies in our country. We’re in a naval arms race with the Germans, whether or not we like it, and we need to protect our superiority.”

I didn’t like to be lectured to. I pressed my lips together in irritation even as fear slid down my skin, mixed with my sweat in the overheated room. I liked what he told us even less, especially since Blackford was uncanny in his ability to see complications before anyone else was aware there was a problem. In a tone barely above a whisper, I asked, “Are you certain?”

He sprawled back in his chair, the glow gone from his eyes. In a quiet voice, he said, “I don’t like it, either.”

Sir Broderick broke in. “I know you came here for more than to lecture us on European conflicts.”

“I did.” The duke looked around the room. “The baron goes out in society a great deal with Lady Bennett. She could be used to pass on the drawings.”

The duke’s gaze fell on me. “We need to dog their heels night and day if we’re to recover those drawings. The plan I’ve devised is tricky. I want to place a member of the Archivist Society in a position to mingle with him in aristocratic society. A position that no one will associate with counterespionage.”

Sir Broderick pressed the tips of his fingers together and looked over them at Blackford. “When you came by this afternoon, you told me you had something in mind.”

“I want to set up Georgia Fenchurch as a cousin of Lady Monthalf, recently arrived from some part of the empire. I want the two of them residing in a household in fashionable London. I want them to go to the opera, to the theater, to balls and parties. And I want them to befriend Lady Bennett.”

Visions of waltzing and attending the opera warred in my brain with thoughts of my bookshop in ruin. “What about Fenchurch’s Books? I can’t just leave it shuttered for weeks.”

“Oh, Georgia, don’t sound so middle-class,” Blackford said in an annoyed tone. “Our nation’s security is at stake.”

I couldn’t leave my bookshop for that long. Both my business and my reputation would be destroyed. “I am middle-class. My shop is my life. I’ll attend social events with you, but my days will be spent as they always are. In my bookshop.”

The duke shook his head. “No. You’ll have afternoon teas and visits. You’ll have to dedicate your life to this role for some time.”

I glared at the duke. The devil I would.

CHAPTER THREE

"GEORGIA, we wouldn’t expect you to close your shop. Frances Atterby and some of the other Archivist Society members can run the shop for you. Frances has certainly helped you out enough that she knows how the shop should be managed,” Sir Broderick said. “And you’ll be there part of the time. Frances can handle a few hours without you.”

“Frances? What about Emma? She’s always in charge when I have to be out.” I caught the look between Sir Broderick and the duke. Had they discussed this before our meeting?

Of course they had, which only made me angrier. I pushed my hands down against the atmosphere building in the room as I said, “No. As much as I trust you, Frances, running a bookshop for days is a big responsibility.”

“Emma will be working closely with you on this investigation. You’ll both be away days. Weeks. As long as it takes,” Blackford said.

Frances’s eyes widened at his words. Sir Broderick cleared his throat when he saw the look on my face.

How dare the duke make that determination? I was steaming from the heat in the room and from my temper. “As long as it takes? No. There’s more than just looking at the price and selling off the shelves. There’s ordering, bookkeeping, unpacking stock, paying bills. Frances has never done any of that, and she’s never handled antiquarian stock. No, I won’t—”

“But I have.” Sir Broderick’s voice cut through my argument. “You can do the ordering, the bookkeeping, the paying, and what you don’t have time for, I can do from here. I do know a crown-octavo edition from a red-cloth-cover edition, and I’m aware of the discounts the publishers should give you. I’m no novice to the business.”

All that was true, but there was something he couldn’t do. I took a deep breath before I said, “And the antiquarian business? Excuse me, Sir Broderick, but you can’t pop down to the store every time we have a customer for an old book.”