The Royal Assassin (11 page)

I smiled and curtsied to him as he bowed. Inside, I was deflated, but I tried to mask my disappointment.

He walked off with the portly, middle-aged man and I was certain I was already forgotten. I wandered around the edge of the room, watching the dancers twirl across the floor and listening to the Babel of voices that filled the air around me.

The swarm of bodies had warmed the room enough that I was no longer freezing. Unfortunately, their heavy use of clashing scents made me want to sneeze. No one glanced my way. I felt very unroyal in this illustrious gathering.

Many of the men were dressed in the uniforms of their country's armies, and their costumes were more colorful than the ladies'. The rows of medals on their chests gleamed brighter than many of the ladies' jewels. There was much to see and report back to Emma and Phyllida.

No, just Phyllida. My mood sank lower.

A page in a red uniform with gold braid approached me and, bowing, handed me a note. I took it and read handwriting now familiar from the notes he'd sent to the bookshop.

Follow the page
to the mezzanine and join me in the parlor.

Count Farkas

Finally, I was going to meet my parents' killer.

I could scarcely contain my satisfaction. I was going to face
the evil man and Blackford wasn't there to stem my brutal remarks. And they would be brutal. He'd killed three people in London and who knew how many others around the world. I envisioned myself burning this shameless man into abject misery with my scalding tongue.

It was too bad I wasn't allowed to have him arrested in the embassy. Perhaps I could have the police waiting when he left the ball.

I rounded the floor on the page's heels and climbed the red-carpeted staircase to the mezzanine. The music was muted on this level but the sweeping sounds of the waltz were still clear. Several couples walked past me in close conversation. None of them looked my way as I was shown into the parlor.

There were people on this landing and on the floor below to hear me if I screamed. I'd be safe enough if Count Farkas were so foolish as to try to harm me.

The man I'd learned was Count Farkas rose from a gold-brocade-covered sofa and bowed. His silver hair gleamed in the light from the chandelier. He was as neatly and crisply dressed as Blackford, but his jacket held a line of medals. I was glad Blackford would never dress with such ostentation.

The door shut behind me with a solid thud, and I looked around to find the room was windowless. Red silk covered every inch of the walls, including the backs of the doors. I could no longer hear the orchestra.

“Don't worry. We won't be disturbed. The walls of this room are very thick,” he said, walking toward me.

Good. My words would be freer without an audience. Still, I'd have been happy to know a rescue party could hear me if I needed to be saved from this madman.

“Won't you sit down, Miss Fenchurch?”

“I won't stay that long.” And I was staying between Count Farkas and the door, just in case.

“Are you certain?” When I continued to glare at him, he said, “Very well.” He remained standing several feet away from me, his icy pale eyes holding no emotion. “I am Count Farkas. If you would prefer, you may use the anglicized translation, Mr. Wolf.”

I had no idea how long I had before someone broke up our meeting so I jumped directly to the question I most wanted to ask. I took two small steps toward him and glared. “Are you going to deny that you murdered my parents?”

“D
EAR
me, child, is that how it appeared to you? An accident, I assure you. Please, sit down, and I'll explain.” Count Farkas used the courtly diplomatic tone I'd heard all over the ballroom tonight in a dozen different languages.

“You mean lie.” I remained where I was, unwilling to match his conciliatory attitude. I found I was beginning to quiver with anger.

“No. I swear to you, in an oath on my honor, that your parents' deaths were an accident. I began the fire simply to warm your parents. Your mother complained of the cold in the cottage.”

“It was a warm day.”

“But stone cottages seem to capture the cold in their walls, don't you think?”

Despite my best efforts, I asked, “What happened?” I don't know why I bothered to ask. I was sure to be lied to.

“The fireplace failed. A problem caused by repairs being done
to the cottage.” He held his hands out, palms toward me, as if saying,
None of this was my fault
.

“You escaped. They didn't.”

“I thought they were right behind me.”

“They were tied to their chairs,” I shouted at him. How could anyone be so dense?

He scowled. “Why do you say that?”

“I saw them.”

“Then why didn't you untie them?”

A question I'd fought with every day since then. “The fire was too far advanced. Sir Broderick was leading the way through the flames. A beam collapsed, landing on Sir Broderick right in front of me. By the time I pulled him out, it was too late. The whole building collapsed.”

“You pulled a grown man out of there? You were little more than a child. That was very resourceful of you.” His smile was as cold as his eyes.

“I had no choice. He was pinned to the floor by the beam.”

“So you made a choice. You saved Sir Broderick and left your parents to die. You were the one who didn't save your parents. Not me.”

Now I was shaking. “You tied them up. You started the fire. You took us there at gunpoint.” I yelled the words at him. His expression never changed.

“You seem to be upsetting yourself, Miss Fenchurch. Tell me, how is your romance with the duke progressing?”

I blinked at him. “Romance? With Blackford?”

“I see how you look at each other. How you work in harmony. None of this would have happened if your parents hadn't died. You should thank me, Miss Fenchurch.”

“Thank you for murdering my parents? Are you mad?” I'd gone back to shouting.

“If your father had simply told me where the Gutenberg Bible was, none of this unpleasantness would have happened. And you would never have met Blackford.” He never raised his voice. His tone remained reasonable.

“My father didn't know where the Bible was. He couldn't tell you. And you murdered him for it.”

“His death, and your mother's, dear lady, was an accident. If I'd known how weakened the structure was, I never would have taken them there.”

“Why did you? Why not talk in our bookshop?”

“With all the traffic in the street? I couldn't trust your father not to lie to me. I needed to convince him to tell me the truth.”

“And Denis Lupton? Did he need persuading?”

“Your father and Lupton worked together to defraud me.”

When I opened my mouth to protest, he held up a hand to silence me.

“Yes. They were involved in taking my Gutenberg Bible and hiding my possession away from recovery. I wanted what was mine.” For the first time, his voice held passion.

I could barely make a sound as I gasped out the words. “You're more concerned with a book than with human lives?” He truly was mad.

“That book is more than three hundred years old. Neither your father nor Lupton would have lasted that long.”

I stalked toward him. “That doesn't give you the right to kill them.”

He shrugged his shoulders. The smooth black fabric of his suit absorbed the light from the wall sconces. “They had no right to steal from me.”

“That's your answer? To meet a wrong with a greater wrong?”

“The Bible says an eye for an eye.”

I would never win this argument with a man who'd made up his mind years ago. “The Bible also says, Judge not, lest ye be judged. In this case, good advice, since my father had nothing to do with Lupton or your Gutenberg.”

“Your father knew what Lupton did with my Bible. If he'd trusted me with the information instead of foolishly protecting Lupton, he and your mother would have been immediately released.”

He sighed and paced a few steps. “I now know your father wasn't in possession of my Gutenberg, since you moved your residence and your bookshop. You didn't take my Bible with you, nor did you leave it behind hidden in a wall or under the floorboards. I was sorely disappointed that your move didn't uncover my Gutenberg.”

Then he turned to me and in his most understanding, malicious tone, he added, “You've done much better with the bookshop than your father did. Better location, nicer store, more stock. You have a natural flair for bookselling, unlike your father.”

“How dare you speak of my father like that? He was a good man. A good father.” My fists and my stomach muscles clenched in a half-conscious desire to fight.

“No doubt he was a good father, but not a good salesman. He couldn't even convince me of the truth. That he had no idea where my Gutenberg Bible was.”

“You killed my parents for nothing.” I tried to keep a sob out of my voice as I leaned on the back of a chair to help me stay upright.

“An unfortunate circumstance.”

“An unfortunate—!” I stepped around the chair as fury strengthened my limbs. I would have hit him if the door hadn't
opened at that moment. Blackford walked in, accompanied by the man who'd greeted me coolly in the receiving line. Apparently, ambassadors don't like to welcome nobodies.

Count Farkas bowed and said, “Your Excellency.”

“I am ready for our meeting now, Count.”

I gave the ambassador the deep curtsy his title demanded. The count bowed to me and I gave him a cold stare. Then the two foreigners strolled out of the room. I shook with unrelieved anger. Blackford walked over to me and said, “Georgia. I'm sorry.”

“For what? Because the count killed my parents over a misunderstanding? Because he now calls it an unfortunate circumstance? Because he values books more than human life?”

“Yes.”

I tipped my head up, trying to keep the tears brimming in my eyes from rolling down my cheeks.

Feeling something shoved into my hand, I looked down and found another of Blackford's monogrammed handkerchiefs. As I mopped my eyes, I said, “How many of these do you carry with you?”

“As many as I think may be needed in the course of an evening. Knowing you'd meet Farkas tonight, I thought to be prepared.”

Laughing and crying at once, I threw my arms around Blackford's shoulders. He embraced me as I sobbed on his smooth jacket. He murmured in my ear and rubbed my back, assuring me this wouldn't be the end of our dealings with Count Farkas. The man wouldn't always be protected.

“I think I'm upset because he was right. My parents' deaths were my fault. I chose to pull Sir Broderick out of the fire first. If I'd left and run around to the back of the structure, I could have pulled them out. At least one of them. Instead I chose Sir Broderick, and my parents died.”

“No, Georgia, none of that was your fault.”

“I feel like I made the wrong choice.”

Blackford held me at arm's length. “No. You did the best you could. You started with the problem in front of you and then went on to the next one. If you had decided to run around the outside of the house and then broken in, giving the fire more time and oxygen, they might all have died, and you with them.” He pulled me close again and ran his gloved hand up and down my back. “You should be proud of what you succeeded in doing. Don't feel guilty. You made the best choice you could. A choice no seventeen-year-old girl should have to make.”

Slowly, his words and his touch took effect and I regained control over my emotions. Two words penetrated my whirling mind.
Our dealings.
I looked up at Blackford and wiped my face on his handkerchief. “Did you mean what you said? That we would try to bring Count Farkas to justice together?”

“Yes. As long as you are looking for justice and not revenge.”

“I hope I'm looking for justice in the deaths of my parents. In moments of grief, I fear I want revenge. Is that wrong?”

“No.”

With that one word, my heart soared.

“As long as when you act, it is to bring Count Farkas to justice.”

I nodded, and then I glanced at his sodden jacket. “Oh, Your Grace. I am so sorry.”

He lifted my chin with one forefinger. “Don't worry about it. I have a very good valet. But I think we should leave now, and from the looks of your face, I think it should be by the side entrance. Otherwise, I might get a reputation as a cad.”

“You could never be that, Blackford.”

“I'm glad you think so.”

Smiling, he escorted me out another door and along an empty
corridor. Then we walked down a dark stairwell and a narrow hall to the front entrance, where we picked up our cloaks and Blackford retrieved his top hat. I could hear a beehive full of voices, but none of the revelers were in sight. They must all have been in the ballroom. Dancing the waltz I'd wanted and now wouldn't have with the duke.

I was glad we didn't meet any of the other guests. My face must have looked as devastated as I felt.

The duke's carriage appeared after a minute's delay and Blackford lifted me inside. My limbs were as limp as day-old lettuce. Then he climbed in, sat down beside me, and held my hand.

“Count Farkas took three lives here and who knows how many elsewhere and he feels no remorse. He called murdering my parents, who had nothing to do with his stupid Bible, an unfortunate circumstance. He thinks of their deaths as an accident. A misunderstanding. Oh, Blackford, I feel dirty just from being in the same room with him.”

“He didn't hurt you, did he?”

“He never touched me. I did, however, want to hurt him.”

In the light spilling into the carriage from the lamps outside, I saw him smile. “I bet you did.”

We sat in silence for a little while, listening to the clop of the horse hooves on the pavement. Slowly, I gained mastery of my nerves.

“The business I was called away on—”

“That prevented us from waltzing,” I said, my waspishness a sign I wasn't completely in control of my tongue yet.

“I am sorry about that. I'm also sorry that the meeting left me with the feeling that our American partners are trying to cheat us. I'll have to sail to New York soon.”

That grabbed my full attention. “No. Blackford, we have an investigation to complete.”

“I promise I'll not leave until it's finished, but then I'll be gone for some time. I have a series of investments in Canada and the United States and it's been quite a while since I visited them.”

“And you're being cheated on one of them?”

“I fear so. It makes me wonder what is happening with the rest of them.” He put his arm around me and pulled me close. “But right now, you have all my attention. You and our investigation.”

I could have done without his words telling me he'd soon sail to America to check on his investments. First I felt abandoned by Emma. Now Blackford. What was next? My stomach churned with sorrow and frustration.

“Emma. Sumner. What are they doing? Do you know?” I asked him.

“I know he loves her. I know he'd die before he'd let anyone harm her. They're all right. Don't worry.”

“But I do.”

“I'd worry about your bookshop if I were you.”

I shifted to stare into his eyes. “What has happened to my bookshop?”

“Nothing. How can you not see it?”

I settled with my head against his shoulder. “I feel like Emma has been sneaking around with Sumner lately. I know she's fond of him. But I know nothing with certainty.”

“Neither do they. When they make up their minds, they'll tell us. So we must be patient and wait.”

Tears sprang up again unexpectedly and I swiped at them with Blackford's soggy handkerchief. I was going to lose Emma. I was sure of it. And I was going to miss her. Just as I would miss the duke.

“You can't hold her back.”

“I'd never dream of it. But I'll miss her. She's been like the little sister I never had. She was maybe thirteen, uneducated, dirty, and undernourished, when she was captured in the course of a murder investigation by Scotland Yard. She's lived with Phyllida and me ever since.”

“I didn't know that,” Blackford said. “Does Sumner?”

“I suspect she's told him. Especially since they're working in the East End, where she lived before her arrest and subsequent placement in my home.”