A throat cleared behind us. “Grandmama thought you might be in need of a chaperone. I thought you might prefer it not be her.”
Blackford gave him a sad smile. “I’ve heard the police can be very tight-lipped.”
Inspector Grantham nodded in reply.
“I was just assuring Miss Fenchurch that Scotland Yard will find Lord Hancock. He’s still free to cause trouble, and I’m afraid after tonight’s events he’s gone completely mad.”
“Do you know where Mr. Drake is?” Grantham asked.
There was a slight pause before Blackford said, “He went home to pack. He and his wife will be leaving England tomorrow from Southampton.”
“I’ll have a guard posted at his house until he leaves. If Lord Hancock goes after him again, we’ll catch him.” The inspector said his good-byes and went back into the parlor.
I started to follow, but the duke reached out and caught my arm at the elbow. “You won’t tell anyone?”
“No. It’s not my story to tell.” The Archivist Society seemed to be in possession of more secrets than our government intelligence services.
Blackford smiled. “Drake insisted you be present at the ball while we negotiated the price of the papers he held. He didn’t trust me to act fairly with him, but he trusts you. I arranged for your invitation and costume so he could find you easily, and Miss Keyes’s so you’d have a chaperone. I thought you’d want to know.”
I didn’t return his smile, still angry about the danger he’d put Drake in. “I also know why Hancock and Waxpool’s man Price were both at the ball tonight. They knew Drake would be there. And you were the one who told them.”
“Yes.” I must have looked ready to create havoc, because he continued, “The best way to catch whoever was after Drake was to tell them where he’d be.”
“No wonder Drake doesn’t trust you to act fairly with him.”
“If I had known my actions would put you or Miss Keyes in danger, I wouldn’t have told a soul.” He cupped my cheek in the palm of his hand and gazed into my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I stared back at him, amazed to hear an apology from a duke, especially this one. “Are you really sorry?”
“Yes. I’d never deliberately do anything to hurt you or Miss Keyes.” He stared at my mouth, then shook his head and stepped back. “Now, I think it’s time that I take you both home. I want you to know I’ll see Sir Broderick in the morning to properly thank him for the help of the Archivist Society.” And then the most extraordinary thing happened. He bowed to me. A duke bowed to me.
Drawing on the regal persona I had worn with my Fire Queen costume, I smiled and gave him a nod such as our queen might bestow on her subjects.
Chapter Twenty-two
THE duke and I gathered Emma on our way out, thanked Lady Westover for her hospitality, and went out into the early morning darkness to climb into the towering carriage. I stopped and looked up, hoping to see the stars. I wanted to see something clean and pure outside of my narrow boundaries. Grayish clouds blocked the sky and wisps of fog swirled around still-burning street lamps and trickled down basement stairs. The street smelled of sulfur. The world matched my mood.
The ride home was quick, since we’d found the time after the partygoers and theater enthusiasts traveled home and before the tradesmen and market stallholders went to work. The clip-clop of horse hooves on pavement was the only sound until Emma said, “Please let me know how Mr. Sumner recovers from his wounds. He was a great help at Lord Hancock’s until the Archivist Society arrived.”
“He’s a brave man,” the duke said.
“Yes, and a thoughtful one. His actions ensured I stayed alive until you came to rescue me, Georgia.”
“What—?” I began, but she shook her head. I was too tired to ask anything more.
I was falling asleep on my feet by the time we reached the door to the flat and the duke made his escape, but Phyllida wanted to hear about the ball. As soon as we mentioned Emma’s abduction, she pulled Emma tightly to her breast and cried out, “Thank God you’re safe. That you’re both safe. Georgia, you take too many risks.”
“I had a job to do. And Emma was dancing with Henry the Eighth.”
“And you know what happened to his wives.”
I blinked as a smile crossed Phyllida’s face. It was late, and I was too tired to think of a reply.
After a moment, Emma rose, kissed Phyllida on the cheek, and said it was time that we all got to sleep.
I couldn’t have agreed more.
*
EVEN IF JACOB and Fogarty had already given Sir Broderick a full accounting, both Emma and I wanted to tell him our thoughts on the events of the previous night. Rising early after a very late night followed by little sleep, we turned down Phyllida’s offer of breakfast and headed out into the busy London streets.