“I will be. And I’ve thought of an addition to our costumes. Sir Broderick, don’t you have a friend with a collection of ceremonial jeweled daggers?” I gave Emma a smile and she grinned in return.
Before we left the house, I sat down across from Sir Broderick. “I want you to know I’ve been looking for my parents’ murderer in the area where I saw him from the omnibus.”
His voice went soft. “I’m not surprised. Any luck?”
“No. But while I was searching this afternoon I ran into the Duke of Blackford. He’s going to see if he can learn anything about the cottage and its ownership.”
“We both tried that. And failed.”
“Do you mind if he tries?”
“No. But don’t be upset if he’s unsuccessful, and don’t overlook him as a suspect in Drake’s disappearance because he’s offered to help you on another matter.”
After all these years, I’d developed that much sense. I was about to object when Sir Broderick said, “I’ve made a small breakthrough in locating the killer.”
I instantly forgave him for doubting my ability to separate the duke’s assistance on one investigation from his role in another. “You found him.”
“Baby steps, Georgia. This man covers his tracks well.”
I was nearly jumping with anticipation. “What have you learned?”
“Do you know Weldon Parrish?”
“Bookshop owner, antiquarian collector, hates women who own shops.” I’d once tried to broker a deal with him over an old copy of the Psalms. I didn’t plan to do business with him again.
“He came here yesterday at my request. The sort of request Adam Fogarty and his friends can deliver.”
Sir Broderick seldom used muscle, preferring persuasion. “Why did you—?”
“Parrish was the one spreading the Gutenberg Bible rumor.”
“He has the copy my parents were killed for?” I’d kill him myself if he did.
“I don’t think so. I told him I didn’t care why, I just wanted the truth about the book. He was finally convinced to tell me he was acting for a South African collector who has decided to take his book off the market.”
“And you think this South African—?” I was halfway out of my chair.
“No. Sit down. The man most interested in buying the book was tall and blond with a faint accent. He gave his name as Mr. Jones. Parrish said it’s obviously fake, but his money is real. A fortune, apparently. His description of Mr. Jones matches yours of the killer.”
“Does he have an address for Mr. Jones? How does Mr. Parrish get in contact with him?”
“Parrish claims he doesn’t have any way to get in touch with him. The man seeks out Parrish. Parrish says he seems to know when he’s heard back from the seller.”
“I don’t believe Mr. Parrish.”
“Neither do I, but that’s what I learned.”
*
THE NEXT DAY, we closed the bookshop at noon so we could get cleaned up, put on our best corsets and shifts, and hide the jeweled daggers Jacob had brought us in our bags before we left for Lady Westover’s.
We were shown into the parlor where Madame Leclerc and her assistant waited. “Oh, good. Try on the dresses, ladies. I can’t wait to see you in them,” Lady Westover said. Her eyes glowed with excitement.
Emma went first. In her dress, with her mask and the jewels the duke had sent over that morning, I wouldn’t have recognized her. She was beyond regal. She was mesmerizing, icy, devastating, and she hadn’t even done her hair yet.
Madame Leclerc looked her over and said, “There is one more detail.” She brought out a sash in the same fabric and fastened it from one of Emma’s shoulders to the other side of her waist, mimicking the sashes royalty wore.
I reached into her bag and pulled out the diamond-encrusted dagger. I handed it to Emma and said, “Think this will be a good addition to the sash?”
She smiled beneath her half mask. “Perfect.”
“Daring,” Madame Leclerc proclaimed and fitted it to the sash by the fastener on the back of the dagger’s sheath at Emma’s waist.
“That is certainly unique, although not quite what I had in mind.” Lady Westover glanced over at me and raised her eyebrows. I shrugged in reply, knowing she couldn’t imagine the dangers we might face. I didn’t like not knowing what we’d encounter. She turned toward Madame Leclerc and announced in a firm tone, “Now, let’s get Emma out of her dress and get Georgia into hers.”
I expected my appearance to be a disappointment after seeing beautiful Emma so exquisitely dressed. After helping me into my petticoat, Madame Leclerc and her assistant lifted my dress over my head and lowered it into place. They buttoned the back, fastened the sash, and put on my mask. Then they put the tiara on my messy hair and hooked the necklace so it lay cold against my chest.