“You still have not explained why I must go,” I said impatiently. “Why should the duke want to sell the necklace to me?”
“He is reluctant to use Errol as a go-between,” Daniel answered. “He’s not met the gentleman Errol says is interested in putting up the money for the necklace—because the gentleman doesn’t exist, of course. The duke is careful, and prefers to deal directly with people instead of using intermediaries. Considering what he gets up to, that is not surprising.”
“And I, er, might have mentioned that Mr. Lancaster’s lovely fiancée could be interested in purchasing the diamonds,” Mr. Fielding finished.
“Oh, did you?” I sent him a glare. “Thank you very much.”
“I would not ask you, Kat.” Daniel faced me, shutting out my view of the others. “I hardly want you in danger, but I am running out of time—I’ve had word that another attempt at murdering British government officials might happen soon, with the duke providing the funds. I need to catch him at it and thwart his scheme.”
I understood why Daniel was in this predicament, though I did not like to say so out loud. The cold-eyed Mr. Monaghan had demanded a result, and Daniel would have to do anything he could to get it.
Mr. Fielding broke in. “As soon as I made the suggestion, the duke brightened. Said you were a fine lady he could trust, and as he had no use for the necklace, he would be willing to sell it to you. His wife is very particular about the jewels she wears, and she was not happy with him for handing Lord Clifford two hundred guineas.”
I recalled meeting the small, smiling duchess and hoped she knew nothing of her husband’s perfidy. She must be exasperated with what she saw as his kind heart getting the better of him when he’d purchased the necklace from Lord Clifford.
“The duke took her admonishment as a cue to sell the necklace for a good price,” Daniel said. “He does want the money—he is simply being cautious as to how he obtains it.” He cleared his throat. “I made certain to imply, in a roundabout, vague manner, that you might be sympathetic to his cause, which made him all the more keen.”
I thought this over while Daniel and Mr. Fielding watched me closely, Mr. Thanos and Cynthia more dubious.
Finally, I heaved a sigh. “Very well. I will give up my half day out tomorrow and help you.”
“I’m afraid it must be tonight, Kat. I left the Berkeley Square house saying I’d look you up at your hotel and bring you back for a meal. The duchess offered you hospitality for the night—or as long as you wish to stay—but you will be modest and insist on returning to your hotel after your transaction with the duke.”
“So I should hope.” Sudden apprehension made my limbs watery. “I left the gown at Miss Townsend’s.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Cynthia said, breaking her silence. “I have another for you, plus all the trimmings—I stopped by Miss Townsend’s and fetched them. We thought you’d be less noticeable going in and out here.”
My apprehension grew. “Except by Mr. Thanos’s landlady. What will she think of my transformation?”
“I will distract her while you slip away,” Mr. Fielding promised. “A vicar is always ready to bend a housewife’s ear about good works.”
* * *
* * *
An hour later saw me once more in a graceful frock that Miss Townsend had supplied. According to Cynthia, her friend had wanted to be rid of several gowns, and Miss Townsend had altered them for me. She, being familiar with Daniel’s work, likely had guessed my role would have to be played more than once.
This gown was a peach-colored evening dress, with creamy lace on the bodice, bustle, and hem. The décolletage bared my shoulders an unnerving amount, and I kept trying to raise the wide band of the neckline to cover what I considered a daring expanse of bare skin.
“You are beautiful, Mrs. Holloway,” Cynthia assured me as we stood before a looking glass in Mr. Thanos’s bedchamber. “No need to fuss.”
“I’ve never shown my shoulders in my life,” I said, tugging up the neckline again.
“Well, you ought to more often. You have lovely skin.”
“A right fool I’d look in the kitchen with my frock down to my bosom.” I declared.
“Take this.” Cynthia wound a lace shawl about my arms, which, in my opinion, did very little to cover me. I felt a definite draft on my back.
White silk gloves completed the costume, soft against my work-roughened fingers. Cynthia pinned up my hair, letting one lock stray down to rest on the shawl. I resisted tucking it into the coiffure again.
Cynthia led me out. “Gentlemen, I give you Mrs. Katharine Holtmann, belle of Amsterdam.”
“Don’t be silly,” I whispered as I stepped into the front room.
The three men sprang to their feet. Mr. Fielding made a comical, old-fashioned bow, extending his leg. “Your servant, my lady.”
Daniel’s gaze met mine in amusement at his brother’s ridiculousness. His eyes held admiration, and I will stoop to admitting that the admiration pleased me.
Mr. Thanos stared at me without embarrassment, his mouth agape. “Jove, Mrs. Holloway, I’d never know you were the same person. Or that you could make such excellent tea cakes.” The packet of them was open on his desk, one already reduced to crumbs.
“I have decided I’d rather be known for skill in cooking than for being a dressmaker’s doll,” I told him. “Having nothing to do all day but keep my clothes clean would be tedious.”
“Now you know what I face, Mrs. H.,” Cynthia said wryly. “Lord save me from it.”
Mr. Thanos’s gaze went to Cynthia and remained there, his expression thoughtful. I wondered if he’d approached her yet about her acting as his assistant. I hoped he would, and also hoped that, when they were thrown together day after day, he’d ask her an even more important question.
Daniel offered his arm. “Shall we adjourn to Berkeley Square?”
I slid my hand through the crook of his elbow, trying not to like the feeling of his strong arm beneath the cashmere sleeve. “We may as well. I do hope Mr. Lancaster’s inanities will not make me too ill.”
Daniel chuckled. “I will endeavor to spare your digestion.”
I allowed Daniel to escort me out. Mr. Fielding bustled past us to keep his word to distract the landlady if necessary. That left Mr. Thanos and Cynthia alone on the landing.
“Suppose I should go,” I heard Cynthia say.
Mr. Thanos paused a long while before he spoke. “I suppose it is best.” He sounded regretful. “But, erm . . . Would you—that is, would you be so kind as to visit me tomorrow? At the Polytechnic,” he added hastily. “At my office. To talk about my lectures.”