PRAISE FOR
THE VANISHING THIEF
“An engaging heroine . . . and a story that will keep you turning pages until you reach the end.”
—Emily Brightwell, national bestselling author of the Mrs. Jeffries Mysteries
“A delightful adventure in Victorian England with the motley crew that is the Archivist Society—a group dedicated to obtaining justice when all else fails.”
—Victoria Thompson, national bestselling author of the Gaslight Mysteries
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Kate Parker
THE VANISHING THIEF
THE COUNTERFEIT LADY
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
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Copyright © 2014 by Kate Parker.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-61740-3
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parker, Kate, 1949–
The counterfeit lady / Kate Parker.—Berkley Prime Crime trade paperback edition. pages cm
ISBN 978-0-425-26661-8 (paperback)
1. Women booksellers—Fiction. 2. Booksellers and bookselling—Fiction.3. Women private investigators—Fiction. 4. Cold cases (Criminal investigation)—Fiction. 5. London (England)—Fiction. 6. Great Britain—History—Victoria, 1837–1901—Fiction. I. Title.PS3616.A74525C68 2014
813'6—dc23
2014005613
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime trade paperback edition / August 2014
Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino.
Cover design by George Long.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
To John,
because you’ve always been there.
CONTENTS
Praise for The Vanishing Thief
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Kate Parker
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks to my brother, William Henck, whose timely comments about the naval arms race of the 1890s provided the background to this story. Thanks also to my daughter, Jennifer, who doesn’t mind revisiting historic spots in London or making a quick trip on BritRail to do research as long as there’s time for the theater.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank the people who helped me polish both this book and my craft. Hannah Meredith, the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood, the Pixie Chicks, and the HCRW all deserve a big thanks. My agent, Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyons Literary Agency, had important suggestions to improve this work, as did my editor, Faith Black. The cover artists and copyeditors at Berkley Prime Crime brought their special skills to the book and made it the best it can be.
And a thank-you to Ken Gates, who handed me a newspaper article on the RWA National Conference and told me to join them if I wanted to learn to write. That was many years ago, but the conversation ultimately led to the Victorian Bookshop Mysteries. The thought and the advice were appreciated.
While this story is based on the current events of the time period, I’ve reimagined those events as if they were acted out by my characters. Any errors not in the service of the story are mine.
CHAPTER ONE
"I need you.”
I looked across the width of the shop counter at the Duke of Blackford and all the blood left my head. Pressing my fingers into the wood, I gaped at him as his words echoed in my brain.
I never expected to hear him say anything like that to me, Georgia Fenchurch, a middle-class bookshop owner. Never mind the fevered dreams I had about the duke. Broad shoulders, the fragrance of pristine linen and smoke, and a smile reminiscent of his pirate-raider ancestors haunted my nights. Left speechless, I gazed into his mesmerizing dark eyes. I hadn’t seen him since spring, but I’d thought of him often.
Then he added, “Miss Fenchurch, Queen Victoria and our country need you,” and my lovely daydream of sitting across the breakfast table from those dark eyes rose into the steam that encircled London thanks to a merciless heat wave.
“Perhaps we should go into my office.” I nodded to my assistant, Emma Keyes, who was helping a customer, and walked out from behind the counter.
We entered my small office in the back of the shop, stuffy now with the unbearable weather, and the duke immediately headed for the window overlooking the alley. Before I could tell him the window was stuck, he had it open several inches and had turned to face me. “Is it safe to speak here?”