by Jenna Brandt
“Stop, right now,” he barked out behind her in a menacing tone.
Her hand froze on the knob of the door. Was it possible she misread the situation last night? This whole time she thought he knew something about what happened to Isadora. Now she wondered if he was behind what happened to Isadora. Did he kill her friend?
Josephine could hear him push back his chair and his footsteps come around the desk. She turned to face him, trying to conceal the fear in her eyes. She needed to say whatever he needed to hear to let her go. “Look, I won’t say anything to the detectives when they question me. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” he growled out as he stared at her, “Which means you can’t leave her until I make you understand what’s going on.”
“You don’t have to; I’m sure whatever happened between you and Isadora was an accident,” Josephine said, hoping she could dart out the door before it was too late. “Why don’t you just let me go.”
He moved even closer, stopping only inches away. He reached around her, clicking the lock on the door. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Should she scream? Would the secretary on the other side do anything, or was she afraid of Mr. Gilbert, too? Before Josephine could yell though, he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her down into the chair. He sat down on the edge of the desk, looking down at her.
“Listen to what I’m telling you, Lady Josephine. I’m a spy for the government. I have been for nearly ten years now. I use my position as an editor to gather information to keep anything from befalling the Queen and our country. I’m very good at my job, but I’m only one man, so I enlist the help of other people. I’m in charge of an organization filled with dozens of informants and spies, all working towards the goal of protecting our way of life.”
She could tell he believed what he was saying. She didn’t know anything about spies or what they did, but it sounded plausible. Could he be telling the truth?
“If I were to believe you, what does that have to do with Isadora?”
“She was one of my informants.”
Josephine’s brows came together in a furrow. “Why would she ever agree to do that?”
“Because someone is blackmailing several members of the nobility and merchant class, including Isadora’s father. Due to the intimate nature of the blackmail, it was clear early on the blackmailer was also from the same social class. I needed someone on the inside that could find out who knew anything about it. She’d been working for me for two months and has narrowed it down to three suspects. That was the information she gave me last night.”
“That doesn’t explain what happened to her,” Josephine pointed out.
He nodded. “I know. She also told me last night that she had received a threat. She was worried the blackmailer knew what she had been doing and was going to do something about it. I dismissed her concerns, since blackmailers never resort to violence.”
“Until last night,” Josephine seethed out in anger. “Last night, whoever is blackmailing all those men decided to kill my friend.”
A look of guilt filled the man’s eyes. “I know; I miscalculated what this blackmailer was capable of. If I had known, I would have never left her alone. I can tell you this, I won’t stop until I find out what happened to Lady Isadora and who was behind it.”
“Thank you for that, but how exactly are you going to manage it? You were the one who said you need access to the upper class.”
“I had planned on tracking you down and asking you to take Isadora’s place, but the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s a bad idea. I don’t want to jeopardize your safety.”
“It isn’t your choice though, is it? Like you said, I’m smart. I know, that without my help, your chances of finding this blackmailer and making him pay for Isadora’s death diminishes greatly. I want to help you—for my friend.”
“That’s admirable, Lady Josephine,” Mr. Gilbert said, pushing off the desk and going around to take his seat back behind his desk again. He pulled out a note, scribbled down something on another piece of paper, and handed it over to her. “Those are the names Lady Isadora gave me last night.”
“I know all three of these men,” Josephine said in dismay, processing the fact that someone in her social circle was a blackmailing murderer. “Two of them I would think would never do such a thing. The third man, he’s a rake and a scoundrel, but I can’t imagine him killing anyone.”
“Are you having second thoughts?”
Josephine shook her head. “No, I’m still determined to help. I just have no idea where to start. I’m not as vivacious as Isadora. I tend to blend into the background.”
“I can hardly believe that from what you demonstrated here today.”
“That is because I was upset about Isadora’s death. I don’t do things like this normally.”
“Listening is an important aspect of spying—probably one of the most; that and observing. You can do both better without being brash. If no one is paying attention to you, they won’t know you’re watching them.”
She nodded, memorizing the names then handing them back to him. “That makes sense. Here, I don’t need this anymore, and I don’t want one of the servants finding it by accident.”
“Smart, you’re very smart, Lady Josephine.”
“For being so smart, I have no idea where to start with my investigation.”
“I would start with Isadora’s funeral. All three men will be there. With emotions running high, there’s a chance they will have looser lips. Whoever killed Lady Isadora, was hired by the person who is behind the blackmail. Once we find the blackmailer, we will have all the answers.”
“I don’t approve of using my friend’s funeral like that.”
“Wouldn’t she want you to?”
Josephine knew he was right, but it didn’t make it easier to digest. “I suppose she would. When I find something out, should I contact you here?”
He nodded. “Mention the auxiliary and I will know it’s about the blackmailer. Don’t put anything that pertains to the investigation in your message.”
“Mr. Gilbert, I think—”
“Charles, you can call me Charles. Considering you’re spying for me now, I think we can address each other by our given names.”
“All right…Charles, I think I should be heading back before my father starts worrying about me. I don’t want to raise any suspicion.”
“Good luck, Josephine, and be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Five
Charles didn’t normally follow his informants around to make sure they were okay, but given what happened with Lady Isadora, he wanted to do a better job of managing Josephine. He pulled his hat down and raised the edge of the collar of his coat. It was cold out in the spring morning air, but he didn’t mind. He needed to be here to make sure Josephine was safe, as well as to make sure she could handle her assignment without giving away her involvement in the secret investigation.
The funeral procession made its way down the dirt path and over to the crypt for the royal family. Charles was watching from a distance, since he didn’t want to get caught up in the Queen’s security. He did have a legitimate reason for being there, covering the royal funeral for the newspaper, but it was a flimsy one. He didn’t want to get called out on it or draw unwanted attention to himself. Watching from several yards away was good enough.
About a dozen carriages back, Josephine emerged along with an older woman and man, he assumed they were her parents. She was wearing a black dress, fitted at the waist, then flared out at the hips. Though her face was partially obscured by the black lace veil, it didn’t lessen her beauty. He could still imagine her lush green eyes looking up at him.
Why did he think that about her? He shouldn’t let himself, but ever since he saw her that first night at the theater, all he could think about was how breathtaking she was. Once he got to see her ingenuity and determination at his office after she tra
cked him down, he realized she wasn’t just a pretty face. She was smart, too. Her ability to figure out there was a connection between him and Isadora, despite his best efforts to dissuade her, proved she had a gift for espionage. She saw through people’s deceptions, which would play into her favor with helping with the investigation.
He liked a smart woman—when she stood up to his own mental prowess—it was a sure way to grab his admiration. It was what prompted him to tell her to use his given name. He wanted to hear what it would sound like coming from her lips, and when she said it the first time, it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. It was like a symphony tumbling from her mouth.
Charles shoved the thought away, trying to remind himself to not let himself get taken in by the gorgeous brunette. He kept finding himself doing things out of character because of her. His number one rule was to keep his relationships with his informants professional. He never mixed business with pleasure, but there was something about Josephine that made him want to break his own rule. When he looked at her, he wondered what it would be like to kiss those perfect pink lips.
The interment passed by in the typical fashion with lots of crying and tears—so loud he could hear them from across the dirt road. Nothing out of the ordinary. By the end, Charles was ready to head back to the office, but a commotion behind him drew his attention. Two men were fighting, one of which he recognized as the Duke of Witherton. This was hardly the place to have an argument. He moved across the street, hoping he could hear what the two men were discussing.
“You shouldn’t be here. Isadora’s death is all your fault. You caused the fight between us the night at the theater, Witherton. If you hadn’t, I would have been with her rather than her being alone where someone could hurt her. Part of me wonders if you were the one who killed her—everyone knows you have a rotten temper.”
“Don’t blame me because, not only did you fail at keeping her happy, you couldn’t keep her safe, either. If anyone is to blame for what happened to her, it’s you, Selborne, for your sheer lack of competence.”
“You have no idea what was between Isadora and me,” the other man bellowed in anger.
“I know you—”
“Gentleman, this is not the place for this,” Josephine’s father interrupted, coming up to the men. “If you cannot control your emotions, you will need to remove yourself. Noblemen do not conduct themselves like this.”
Both men looked embarrassed as they moved away from each other. Charles made note that the Duke of Witherton had indeed been at the theater that night, and in contact with Isadora. Did he find out she suspected him? If he did, was it possible he did something about it? Was he behind the blackmail and Isadora’s death? This wasn’t enough to prove it, but it did make him even more suspicious of the man.
Now that the service was over, everyone was leaving the cemetery.
Josephine’s family returned to their carriage. Just before she climbed inside, she turned to look at Charles. He hadn’t realized she saw him there. Josephine didn’t say a word, but instead gave him a knowing smile before she disappeared inside the carriage. She sure was a clever girl. Perhaps, she was capable of handling herself and didn’t need him keeping an eye on her after all.
Six
After the funeral, there was a gathering at Isadora’s home. Her mother had retired for the evening, but her father and brother were both listening to their guests share memories of Isadora. Both looked as if they hadn’t slept since her death, dark circles under their eyes and hollow looks in them. Josephine felt terrible for the Saxe-Saalfield family and what they were going through.
Several other close friends of the family were present including Duncan. He kept looking at her in a way that made her uneasy. She wondered if it was to see how she was reacting to Isadora’s death. The truth was, she was barely keeping it together for the day. She could hardly believe her friend was dead, but when she let herself dwell on it, she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle of tears. The only thing that seemed to help was distracting herself with the task of assisting Charles figure out who was responsible for killing Isadora.
When she had seen him at the cemetery earlier in the day, it piqued her curiosity. Had he been there to check up on her? Did he have doubts she could accomplish her task? She was new to spying, but she assumed it wasn’t much different then listening to the gossipers of the Ton. Except now, she would be reporting it back to someone. She was trying her best to work her way around the room listening to the different conversations that might give her any clues about Isadora’s death. The problem was: no one was talking about her death. Everyone was carefully sidestepping that and focusing on anything else. She couldn’t very well just bring it up out of the blue or it would draw raised eyebrows. She didn’t need attention like that.
Josephine glanced over to find Duncan still staring at her. The way he continued to watch her made her wonder if she were blending in poorly. Naturally shy, she wasn’t good at engaging with others. In the past, she let Isadora do the talking during social gatherings. Without her friend present, she was forced to do it herself. Though she had passed all her etiquette classes at finishing school, she still found herself uncomfortable in social settings. She would rather be riding her horse or reading a book.
Deciding she needed a short reprieve, she made her way towards the privy. She made her way down the hall, and from a distance she could hear whispering. She stopped just short and listened to the conversation. She immediately recognized both female voices.
“Do you think the rumors about Isadora and the Duke of Witherton are true? Were they secretly having an affair?” whispered Lady Mary, the daughter of Baron Montpelier to her friend, Lady Wilma, Isadora’s second cousin.
“I’ve heard the same possibility myself. He was in her box the night of her death. Some think he might be responsible—that they had a lover’s quarrel and he pushed her over the balcony. Isadora was always getting herself into trouble and thought being related to our cousin would get her out of it.”
Josephine found Lady Wilma’s statement hypocritical. she was the one with an air of superiority due to her relationship to the Queen. She thought she could do whatever she wanted because of it, including spreading false rumors about the deceased, even if Isadora was part of her family. Josephine wanted to defend her friend, but they hadn’t seen her yet. She knew it would be better to let them talk to see if they revealed anything relevant to her investigation.
“I don’t know, Wilma, Isadora told me she was going to finally relent and agree to marry Lord Selborne. I can’t imagine her carrying on with another man if that was the case.”
Lady Wilma snorted. “You didn’t know my cousin then. She had no problem with a discreet affair, marriage would to change this.”
Deciding she had had enough, Josephine came around the corner and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, ladies, I need to visit the privy.”
Both women looked shocked to see her. After a moment’s hesitation, Lady Mary apologized. “Pardon us, Lady Josephine. I hope you don’t think poorly of us for what you might have overheard. I know how close you were to Lady Isadora.”
“Don’t make excuses to her, Mary,” Lady Wilma said through narrowed eyes. “We were only speaking the truth.”
“So you say,” Josephine challenged. “But since I was the closest to Isadora, I can tell you that she was not having a dalliance with anyone. Isadora wasn’t that type of woman.”
“I’m not surprised you would say that. It’s common to want to make someone a saint after they die,” Lady Wilma mocked, then turning to her friend, she added, “Come on, Mary, let’s head back to the parlor where there’s more pleasant company to be had.”
The women moved down the hall and disappeared out of sight, leaving Josephine alone. She sagged against the wall, tired from the long day, not to mention spending so much time trying to pay attention to every detail to dozens of conversations. There had to be something more she could do beyond that. She knew
that Isadora’s father wasn’t on the list of suspects, but he was friends with the men who were. Could there be information in his study that would shed some light on the blackmailer?
Deciding it couldn’t hurt to take a peek around to find out, Josephine pushed off the wall and retreated down the hall to the first door on the left. She knocked softly, and when no one answered, she opened it and slipped inside.
The large room was neat and tidy, with everything in a designated place. She made her way over to the desk first, moving pieces of papers and books, but making sure to put everything back in the exact place she got them. She opened the drawers next and went through them in the same manner.
The opening of the door behind her startled Josephine causing her to spin around with a book in her hand.
“What are you doing in here?” she heard the familiar voice of Duncan ask.
“I just needed a few moments of quiet after everything that happened today. I thought I could find a book to read, since Isadora’s father had told me I could borrow one whenever I wanted.”
“How nice of him,” Duncan said, coming further into the room. “Which one did you pick?”
Josephine didn’t want to admit she had no idea what book she held in her hands. It was simply the one she had picked up off the desk when she heard the door open. She hadn’t been paying attention to the titles but simply looking for any piece of paper that might be hidden inside them. She pushed the book towards Duncan. He took and read the title, “The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Does your selection demonstrate that you enjoy books themed around revenge, Lady Josephine?”
“I wouldn’t call it revenge; I would call it justice. I think that if something awful happens to someone, the person responsible should pay for what they did.”
“I agree. I can’t help but wonder, is the selection because you wish there to be justice for Isadora. I know how much you cared for her. This must be so hard for you.”
