The Royal Assassin (13 page)

I joined Kira as she finished her letter. “Would you post this to the embassy, Miss Peabody?”

“Of course, Princess.” I curtsied and left the room, searching for the duchess on my way downstairs.

I found her engrossed in her painting. She looked up after a moment and said, “I suppose I asked for all that has befallen me, since I agreed to have the princess stay here.”

I waved the message the princess had given me for posting. “The princess has written the ambassador, asking him to pay for a lady's maid for Nadia while she stays here. The lady's maid is to come from the agency you use. Is that satisfactory, Your Grace?”

She smiled. “Very. Good for you for suggesting what I can't say within the bounds of good manners.”

“The princess has been an expensive visitor?”

“It's worse than entertaining our royalty. She takes the carriage whenever she wants; orders new clothes she doesn't plan to pay for and has them sent to this address, which will hurt my reputation with tradesmen; then she plans an elaborate dinner party at my home using my servants, my food, and my silver; her maid steals food from the pantry; they disrupt—”

“Her maid, Mila, steals food?” I was certain the duchess fed her servants well, and that would include Mila.

“Yes. And so far my cook and housekeeper haven't been able to figure out what she does with it. It's too much for a little thing like her to eat.”

“They can ask her. She speaks English. I learned some new words today, but nothing that can be used in polite company. Mila and Nadia could both teach me how to curse, and it's my native tongue, not theirs.”

“Mila speaks English? I've been told by the servants and by
Kira that her lady's maid can't speak English. Of course, we all thought Kira couldn't speak English, either.” The duchess looked pensive.

“The Russians, at least the ones I've met, are a deceptive bunch.” And I couldn't wait for them to leave. I was constantly trailed by fear for Emma and Sumner's safety.

The anarchists Emma and Sumner were involved with were crazy, dangerous people. And if the whole Russian ruling class were like Princess Kira and Lady Raminoff, I could understand the anarchists wanting to be rid of them.

“My staff will be glad to know Mila speaks English. It will make questioning her easier.” She picked up her paintbrush again. “Is there anything else?”

“I have an idea. The Duke of Blackford has a parlor maid, Mary Thomas, who was once a lady's maid. She's a clever young woman and could help us keep an eye on the Russian ladies.”

“I don't think Blackford would mind lending her to us for a short while. Do you want to ask him, or shall I?”

“I will. I'll have to set this up with Mary.” I dropped a small curtsy and left to post the princess's letter.

I walked back to the morning room to see if anything was there that I needed to do as part of my supposed job. I opened the door to find Amelia Whitten, Lady Daisy's governess, searching through the desk.

She straightened up, shut the drawer she'd been rifling through, and looked me in the eye. She didn't even blush.

“May I help you, Miss Whitten?”

“I was looking for some blank paper to use for Lady Daisy to practice her handwriting. I've run out.”

I picked up several sheets from the stack by the door. “Will these do?”

“Nicely.” She took them from my hand as she tried to leave.

I blocked her way. “Where's Lady Daisy?”

“Having a tea party with her nursery maid.”

I stared hard at her. “Next time you come to borrow something, bring her along. She livens up the house, don't you think?”

“Yes.” She shoved past me and escaped at just short of a run.

I sat down and gazed into the back garden. What was Miss Whitten up to? For that matter, why was Mila stealing food? Then I leaned forward, watching as a figure slipped along the edge of the garden from the direction of the carriage house. Ivanov.

He wore worn, dark trousers and a jacket with a workingman's cap, letting him blend in on the London streets, but it was definitely Ivanov. I'd know his unkempt beard, his craggy face, and his tall bulk anywhere.

Leaping up, I raced to the back door and skidded to a stop. One of the maids watched me curiously—the maid still displaying the black eye and bruised face given to her when Ivanov escaped. “Are you expecting a visitor?” I asked.

She looked down at her damp dress and the bucket of dirty water she was using to scrub the stairwell coming up from the kitchen. Then she looked at me as if I'd grown a horn out of my forehead. “Yeah, the Prince of Wales.”

“Ivanov is back. Better inform your mistress.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Gawd.” She plunked the bucket on a step, sloshing water, and ran back down the stairs. “Mrs. Green. Mrs. Green.”

I stepped backward into the lavatory on the landing, hoping I wouldn't be noticed.

I left the door open a crack and held my breath as Ivanov entered. He blinked at the darkness after the bright day outside. I held still, wondering how he couldn't hear the pounding of my
heartbeat. I could have reached out and touched him. And I was certain if he found me spying on him he would kill me. I was terrified my trembling would give me away.

After what felt like an eternity but must have been mere seconds, he moved past me and up the three steps to the main level.

I stayed where I was, afraid he'd notice me before he did whatever he came to do. When I peeked out, sure I'd see him partway down the hall, he was gone. I blinked. He had vanished. Where was he?

Slipping out of my hiding place, I heard the rumble of his voice and the softer murmur of a woman's voice. I couldn't make out their words, and I couldn't tell who the other voice belonged to. Tiptoeing forward, I hoped none of the boards would squeak and give me away. His voice, the louder of the two, was distinct enough that I was certain he was speaking English, but I still couldn't make out the words. He had to be close by, but the morning room and the library were both empty and I knew he couldn't have gone past me to use the back stairs.

I reached the front hall, still on my tiptoes. No sign of Ivanov, and I could no longer hear the sound of his voice. Where had he gone? I quickly peered down the other hallways and started up the steps when the duchess came down toward me.

“Where is he?” She sounded as imperious as Blackford.
A skill they both must have learned in the nursery.

I looked around as if I expected him to suddenly appear. “I don't know. He came in the back door past me and down that hall, but then I lost him.”

“Good Lord. He could be anywhere. Kendrick, look upstairs. Check the nursery, check with Princess Kira.” The butler mounted the stairs at a rapid pace.

“Come with me.” A young, dark-haired footman hurried to
obey the duchess's command and I trailed behind as we opened one door after another on the main floor.

Ivanov was nowhere to be found.

“Sally.” The black-eyed maid hurried toward her mistress. “Run out to the carriage house and ask any of the men out there to come here quickly. We'll search the whole house from cellar to attic until we find him.”

The maid turned and hurried toward the back door, when a young man half-dressed in a footman's uniform raced in. “You'll never guess who just walked out of here and into the carriage house.” Then he looked past Sally and saw the duchess. “Your Grace.” His bow was as sloppy as his apparel.

“Ivanov.” The duchess gazed at him as he nervously tucked in his shirttails. “I'm glad you came in to tell us. We were about to start searching for him. Which way did he go?”

“Coachman stepped in to stop him, but Ivanov punched him. Knocked the wind right out of him. The Russian kept marching into the alley and then headed south.”

“Was he carrying anything?” I asked.

“Not that I saw, ma'am.”

“He didn't appear to carry anything in, either,” I told the duchess.

“So why did he come back?” she asked, her eyes widening. “If you hadn't seen him and warned the household, what would he have done?”

A crash echoed inside the walls. I looked around in surprise, expecting the roof to cave in at any moment. The duchess scowled and the servants froze. After what felt like an eternity but was probably thirty seconds, footsteps could be heard pounding toward us. There was no one in sight.

The wall across from the morning room swung out into the hall and nearly hit me. I gasped and leaped backward. Kendrick, the butler, stepped ungracefully into the hall and said, “We have a problem, Your Grace.”

Peeking around the section of wall, I could see a dark bundle of clothes. And a hand.

I
looked past the butler's feet to see Lady Raminoff sprawled at the bottom of a flight of steps. Her legs were up the first three steps and her trunk and head were at the bottom. Her skirt was up past her bony knees. My first thought was that she would hate to be seen like this.

The duchess gasped and sank toward the floor as her eyes rolled back in her head. The footman she had ordered to come with us earlier was standing next to her and was able to catch her. Then he looked at the butler with a panicked expression, the duchess limp in his arms.

“Put her on the couch in the morning room,” I told him. Then I turned to the half-dressed footman. “Get a constable. Now.”

Kendrick nodded at the men to follow my directions and then said, “Sally, stay with Her Grace.”

In an instant, the hallway was empty except for Kendrick, Lady Raminoff, and me. I had room to bend down close to her, feeling for a pulse and examining her neck and head.

“Her ladyship?” Kendrick asked.

“Dead.”

Church bells began to peal somewhere nearby. I turned and stared at the butler in shock. Why—?

“Thanksgiving service for Her Majesty's long reign. Longer than her grandfather's.” Kendrick nodded as if this was to be expected.

I loosed a sigh and began again to examine the victim.

“Could you please right her skirts?” the butler requested.

“No. We mustn't alter anything until the police arrive.” I straightened. “Where did you find everyone when you went upstairs just now?”

“Lady Daisy was fine. She was with her nursery maid. The Russian maid, Mila, was the only one in the princess's room. I was heading toward the other end of the floor when I heard a loud thud in the direction of the nursery and went back. On my way I opened the door to the stairs and saw Lady Raminoff at the bottom.” Kendrick glanced at the body and then looked away. “I came down to see if I could help the lady.”

“So you didn't see Miss Whitten, the princess, or Nadia?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone in the hall when you heard the thud?”

“No. I was heading toward Their Graces' rooms. There was a bend in the hallway blocking my view.”

I held the collar of Lady Raminoff's gown away from her skin and said, “Kendrick, would you say these bruises were made by hands as large as Ivanov's?”

He shuddered as he faced the corpse and then bent down and held one hand about six inches from her neck. “These were made by smaller hands than mine, and Ivanov had huge hands.”

“I'd guess they were made by a lady's hands. I think Lady
Raminoff died from strangulation and then was thrown down the stairwell.”

“Good heavens. Who would do that?” The butler sounded horrified at the idea.

The footman returned with a young constable. Both men stared at the scene, stunned into silence.

“You need to get help from your police station,” I told the bobby. “This woman's been murdered.”

He walked stiffly away, his eyes still wide, and a moment later I heard his whistle blast twice from the front steps. The sound mixed with the church bells.

The footman was still staring. I turned him away with a hand on his shoulder and said, “You must go out to the carriage house and make sure no one leaves that way. Find out if anyone left after Ivanov.”

“He did this?” the footman asked, looking at the butler.

“We don't think so,” Kendrick replied.

The footman nodded and left by the back door.

“If you'll guard the crime scene for a moment, Kendrick?” I asked and then went into the morning room to find the duchess sitting up.

“She's dead, isn't she? It was those terrible stairs. We had a maid hurry down them a year ago and twist her ankle. I'll have to tell Hereford to seal them up, once and for all.”

“She was strangled, either there or elsewhere, and then dumped there.”

At my brutal words, the duchess's eyes widened. “She was murdered? In my home? By Ivanov? Is that why he came back?”

“She was murdered, but it's unlikely Ivanov did it. The finger mark bruises around her neck are too small to have been made by Ivanov, or even by Kendrick. She was killed by a woman.”

The duchess looked at me coldly. “You were put in my household by Blackford to prevent such things.”

“I failed.” What else could I say? “But I won't fail again.”

“We can only hope.” She sounded skeptical.

“It means I'm going to have to ask some painful questions. Starting with where you were when Sally found you.”

“I was in my studio painting.”

If I hadn't been looking at Sally at that moment, I wouldn't have known the duchess had lied. But after her initial shock, Sally stopped staring wide-eyed at the duchess and nodded her agreement. The duchess was a good employer. I was sure Sally didn't want to lose her post, and it must have seemed like a small lie.

Then the duchess rose and walked slowly out into the hallway. The butler and two bobbies were clustered around Lady Raminoff. “Give them whatever assistance they need, Kendrick,” the duchess said as she passed.

A loud rap on the front door sent Kendrick to open it as one of the constables said, “That'll be the police photographer.”

By the time the duchess and I reached the front hall, the photographer was carrying in his equipment, followed by Sussex and Blackford. Sussex looked around at all the faces staring at him and said, “It wasn't necessary for everyone to greet me, but thank you. Is Princess Kira receiving company?”

I looked up to the landing at the top of the main stairs. Princess Kira, Nadia, and two maids looked down at us and the excitement as more bobbies entered the house. Sussex could see the princess on the landing from where he stood, but good manners prevented him from admitting this.

He was allowing her to decide if she wanted to talk to him, and the silly girl probably wouldn't respond until a maid came up the steps to ask her. I thanked my lucky stars I was part of
the middle class and didn't have to wait on such stupid customs to speak to anyone.

The duchess had the presence of mind to walk forward and say, “She always looks forward to seeing you, Duke,” as she took his hand.

When Blackford glanced at me, I made a small gesture with my head as I made a wincing expression. He nodded, and I knew we'd speak before the end of the day.

I rushed up the stairs to Princess Kira and Nadia, knowing this would be my only chance for a while to question them. “Where were you?”

Kira glanced at Nadia, who said, “I was watching Kira paint. What is going on?”

“Lady Raminoff is dead.”

“She was an old lady and a dragon who shouldn't have been a chaperone. It was too much work for her heart. I'm not surprised,” Kira said with the same icy disregard she showed for her Russian guard.

“She was murdered.”

Kira gave Nadia a frightened look. “It wasn't her heart? Good heavens. First Lidijik, now Lady Raminoff. They are after me.”

“Sussex is here,” I told her, “and he wants nothing so much as to keep you safe. Before you go down to see him, I have one other question. Were you and the duchess painting the same object?”

“The duchess wasn't in the studio, and I didn't see her until she greeted Sussex just now.” Princess Kira walked gracefully down the stairs as if she were entering a ballroom. Nadia followed her with nearly as much grace but more purpose.

I walked down the hall to the nursery to find Miss Whitten overseeing Lady Daisy's penmanship.

“Where were you when Kendrick came in here looking for you?”

“When was that?” She seemed more belligerent than frightened.

“Shortly before he found Lady Raminoff's body.”

My words seemed to shock the belligerence out of her. “I went to find the duchess, to ask if I could take Lady Daisy to the park. She wasn't painting, so I headed back to the nursery. When I did, I saw Kendrick ahead of me. He opened the door to the secret staircase and then disappeared.”

“Did he see you?”

“I wouldn't think so.”

“Was anyone in the studio?”

“Not that I saw. I thought I heard someone and called out, ‘Your Grace,' but no one answered.”

“Did you see Lady Raminoff at any time this morning?”

“No. I heard her arguing with someone earlier, but I don't know who.”

“When was this?”

“Before I gave up trying to teach and went to look for the duchess. All this screeching and arguing is bad for lessons. That's why I decided to take Lady Daisy to the park today.”

“What language were they arguing in?”

“I think Russian, but I'm not sure. Lady Raminoff screeched every time she spoke, so all languages sounded the same coming from her mouth.”

“And the other person?”

“The other person spoke more softly. I couldn't tell you if it was a man or a woman.”

“Could it have been Ivanov?”

She shook her head. “His voice was more like a rumble of thunder. I thought I heard his voice when I went to talk to the duchess after Lady Raminoff stopped shouting, but I can't be sure. Probably one of the footmen.”

“Did you know Ivanov was in this house this morning?”

She put a protective hand on Lady Daisy's shoulder. “No. When?”

“While you were looking for Her Grace.”

“Heavens. He didn't come in here, did he?”

“He was overheard speaking to an unknown woman in the secret staircase that opens just outside the nursery. The staircase where Lady Raminoff's body was found.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and walked away. “It wasn't me. I want nothing to do with that brute.”

Maybe now she'd tell the truth about Ivanov. “He tried to force his advances on you, didn't he?”

Miss Whitten shook her head. “No. He had no interest in me. He was trying to frighten me. That's what he seems to enjoy.”

For someone who hadn't been helpful in the past, Miss Whitten was certainly providing a great deal of detail now.

•   •   •

AFTER DINNER, I
headed alone to Sir Broderick's for our meeting. It was too dark to see the clouds that had rolled in during the afternoon, but the damp was finding its way through every seam to chill my skin. Knowing Emma was in disguise in the East End in this threatening weather was not lifting the satchel of worry on my shoulder.

Everyone was waiting when I walked in. I quickly poured myself a cup of tea and sat down next to Frances. Sir Broderick opened our meeting by saying, “Today our monarch has ruled longer than any other in Britain. None of us was alive when Queen Victoria was crowned. The next time you think things are changing quickly, remember we do have one source of stability.”

I wasn't sure if this was a cause for celebration or despair. Turning to Blackford, I asked, “How was the atmosphere at luncheon today, Your Grace?”

“The duchess seems ready to wash her hands of her houseguests. Princess Kira and Nadia skirmished all through the meal. In Russian. If I spend much more time in that household, I'll learn to speak the language whether I plan to or not.” His lips forced a brief smile, but none of us was in the mood for humor. “Tell us what happened from the beginning.”

I did, with all the detail I saw or was told.

“Had anyone shown you the location of the secret staircase?” the duke asked.

“No. Only when Kendrick opened it to show us Lady Raminoff's body. I hope the coroner was called in.” I studied Blackford's face.

“The police surgeon has seen the body. He agrees with your assessment that the killer could well be a woman because of the small hands, although she'd have to be strong.”

“Tell us more about this hidden staircase,” Jacob said.

“There was a time when things like servants' stairways were disguised with even the entrances hidden out of sight. Hereford House goes back to before the Georges, and in subsequent renovations, they left the secret panel passages alone.” Blackford smiled. “They were great fun when we were children.”

I could imagine a little, dark-haired boy sneaking down those stairs with his friends and peeking out from a slightly opened hidden panel.

“Would Ivanov know where to look for this staircase?”

“Everyone in the house knew about it. The servants used it regularly.” Blackford turned to me. “Since Ivanov wasn't seen to carry anything in or out of the house, has the duchess checked
her jewelry? He and his accomplice could be nothing more than thieves.”

“And murderers.” I stared into his eyes until I felt the familiar pull of his gaze drawing me closer. It was all I could do to keep from putting my hand on his sleeve. The fire of his determination shone in his dark eyes and made me want to help him succeed in whatever crazy plan he was creating.

“You don't really believe their main goal is theft,” I added. “If they're thieving, it's only a sideline to what they mean to accomplish. But was Ivanov's aim in joining the household to get close to the princess or to Lady Raminoff? Was she the target all the time?”