I smiled as if he had just given me the queen’s jewels. “Some habits are good for you.”
He released a long breath and swept one hand toward the door. “We need to catch Snelling. After you.”
Sticking my head out of the doorway, I saw the hall was empty. Blackford left behind me and shut the door. I hurried toward the draperies over the window at the end of the hall. The hall seemed long enough to stretch across the width of London, but finally I reached the end and climbed behind the draperies without anyone catching me. Luckily, the maids did a good job cleaning and I didn’t have to sneeze from the dust.
I peeked out from my hiding spot. The duke had already disappeared around the corner and I felt more alone than ever.
The window ledge was wide enough to sit on and draw my feet up, hiding me entirely from anyone who might see me in the weak light from the night lanterns. The glass windowpanes were cool to the touch from the night air. It was dark and quiet where I sat, and I soon felt my head nodding.
A noise woke me, bringing my head and back away from where I had leaned on the side of the window opening. I looked out through the gap between the draperies in time to see a woman’s skirt and foot disappear around the turn toward the main stairs.
I listened for a moment, but no one else appeared to be stirring. I climbed out of my hiding place and dashed in my dancing slippers to the top of the stairs. Looking down, I glimpsed the hem of a skirt glide down the far hallway.
Rushing along the staircase and foyer, I skidded to a stop when I reached the far hall. No one was in sight. I stopped in front of the door that led to the study. Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I opened the door. A quick check showed there was no one inside and there was no way out.
The next door led to a parlor with a connecting door to another parlor. I continued through the empty rooms, trying each locked, bolted door to the terrace in turn before reaching the door that brought me to the library.
The library’s exit leading into the back garden was unlocked and unbolted. Could Snelling be meeting his buyer on the terrace at this moment? I opened the door, stepped outside, and tripped. I waved my arms and stumbled, landing heavily on my hands and knees. Groaning, I pulled myself up using the half wall that encircled part of the terrace.
Rubbing my knees, I swung around to see what was in my path. A body lay on the ground with its arms and legs sprawled. The moonlight was bright enough that I could make out Mick Snelling’s features and the odd angle his head lay from his body.
I glanced around. No package. No blueprints. His attacker had beaten me to it. I was about to run back in and go upstairs to get Blackford when the door opened. Baron von Steubfeld blocked my path. His furious expression was nearly as intimidating as the pistol he aimed at me. A pistol I couldn’t fail to see glittering in the moonlight.
I stared at the gun rather than his face as I said, “Baron von Steubfeld.” I kept my shaking knees from carrying me back a step. There was no way I’d show fear to the top German spy in England, even if he planned to kill me. If? The pistol left me in no doubt as to his intensions.
“You killed him.”
“No, I—” Surprise jerked my gaze up to look at the baron’s face. “You think I killed him?”
“What have you done with the blueprints?” His voice ground out the unmistakable note of threat.
“Nothing. I found things just as you see them.”
“Do you want the money I would pay him? Because I assure you, there are other ways of making you tell me where the drawings are.” The moonlight showed the cruel smile beneath his mustache.
“She doesn’t have them.”
I made out the solid shadow of the Duke of Blackford behind him. The duke reached out his hand in front of von Steubfeld’s face. The German grimaced and gave him his pistol. “How can you be sure? She might have killed him and taken the plans for herself.”
“I am certain.” The duke must have pocketed the gun, because it was no longer in his hand when he stepped around the baron and knelt by Snelling. “He’s had his neck broken.”
“Professionally done?” the baron asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I apologize, Mrs. Monthalf. You are not a professional killer.”
I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. This was not the time to admit I was a professional, but one who lacked knowledge of breaking necks. “Sumner?” I asked Blackford.
“Possibly, but he would have waited here guarding the ship plans until help arrived. And he’s in London.” The duke rose. “What about your valet?”
A deep sigh rumbled through von Steubfeld’s chest. “Not him. I told him I would handle the transaction, after he botched the transfer last night.”
“Why wouldn’t Snelling deal with your valet?” Blackford had probably learned more from Sumner last night than he’d told me.
“He’d always dealt directly with me before. I suppose he didn’t trust an unknown intermediary.”
“Snelling had already been visited by Sir Henry Stanford with an offer for the blueprints. Perhaps he thought your valet worked for someone other than you,” I suggested.
“Perhaps,” the baron agreed. “And it cost Snelling his life. Meanwhile, my valet waits in my room to carry the drawings into the village. By morning he would have been well on his way to London to catch a boat across the North Sea.”
“After the first handoff, during the ball, failed. Our people were the ones who blocked the first attempt, Baron.” I was ready to give credit to the work the Archivist Society had done.
“You are to be congratulated, Miss Fenchurch.”
I looked at the baron in surprise. “You were the one who sent the notes?”
“Yes. One of my agents is a porter. Very handy when I want to find out what is being moved around London. He was puzzled by the number of sea trunks moved from a dressmaker’s to a house in Mayfair. I had you followed from the house to your bookshop. A few discreet questions gave me your name. When I began to ask around, I learned about your connection to the Archivist Society.” The baron gave me a considering look. “No one else figured out your true mission or your identity. You are to be congratulated.”
I nodded to him graciously. I wasn’t ready to finish playing the well-brought-up lady. “Those notes. Would you have killed me?”
“If I couldn’t find a better solution.”
I shivered.
“I think it’s time to wake our host and have him call the police,” Blackford said, an edge to his voice.
“Does my interest in this man need to be made public?” the baron asked.
“Not if you give me your word as a gentleman that you don’t know where the drawings are currently, don’t have them in your possession, and won’t try to retrieve them.” The duke stared at the baron.
The baron held his gaze. “I neither have them nor know where they are. If they should fall in my lap, I will of course attempt to send them to Germany. That is how the game is played.”
“It’s not a game. A man is dead,” I said.
“Unfortunately, Snelling is the only man who could have testified to Gattenger’s innocence in his wife’s death,” the duke told me.
“Surely all this will be enough to free him from prison.” I sounded slightly desperate to my own ears.
“All what, Georgina? We have a dead man miles from the Gattenger home with no apparent connection to either the husband or the wife. No, finding the drawings on Snelling might have been sufficient. The testimony of a live Snelling certainly would have helped. Finding a dead man without the plans does nothing to prove Gattenger didn’t kill his wife or commit treason.” The duke prowled the area around the body, no doubt looking for the blueprints.
The baron leaned against the door frame, watching him.
“Do you have any other operatives in the area, von Steubfeld?”
“No.”
“Truly?”