An Unexpected Peril (Veronica Speedwell #6) -Deanna Raybourn Page 0,89

his debts repaid. The French lads in his employ are not above using a few persuasions—a club applied to a kneecap, an explosive tossed through a window. Whatever the situation requires. One of them threw the squib last night at a signal from Max. He blended into the crowd and was back in France on the first Channel steamer. You can despise him all you like, but I can assure you, the alternative would have been worse. The duke has fallen in with a particularly nasty crowd who will not take it well if he fails to pay his debts of honor.” She paused, drawing in a breath. “See here, I know what I did was very wrong, but no harm was actually done. I have spent my entire life taking risks like that—I haven’t had any other way to get ahead. And I have my first front-page byline out of it, so if you are expecting an apology, I’m afraid you will be sitting in the anteroom of hell before you hear one out of me.”

She lifted her chin, and in spite of her defiance, I was rather glad to see something of her old spirit in evidence. I did not like a defeated J. J.

“What about the chocolate box?” Stoker asked. “There was a threat left inside a box of rose and violet creams on the princess’s dressing table.”

“Another suggestion from Max’s unsavory companion from Deauville. He wanted to put Gisela on edge a bit so the ‘bomb’ would feel even more frightening when it went off, make her feel like she was surrounded by enemies, that sort of thing.”

“That is diabolical,” I said. “How on earth can she possibly marry such a man?”

J. J. waved a dismissive hand. “He is no worse than most and better than many. The duke is treading water just now, you know. He owes a great deal of money and he is frightened. I think we all know how stupid frightened people can be.”

We all fell silent for a moment, and then Stoker spoke. “When Maximilian and Gisela stopped on the way to the station, where did they go?” I asked.

J. J. studied her nails. “I do not think I should say.”

“What?” I asked, resisting the urge to shake her.

J. J. shook her head and smiled. “I have told you quite enough and got nothing in return. Now, if you want anything else, you will have to make it worth my while.”

“Stoker, your notecase,” I said quickly. “How much have you got?”

“I do not want money!” she protested, clearly offended. “I want something far more valuable than that.” She sat back with an air of triumph.

“What on earth could we have that is more valuable than banknotes?” Stoker asked.

Her smile was rapacious. “It is very simple and will cost you absolutely nothing. I simply want to go to the dinner at Windsor Castle. As the attendant of Her Serene Highness, the Princess Gisela of the Alpenwald.”

A long moment of horrified silence followed her pronouncement.

Stoker spoke first. “Out of the question.”

“How do you even know about the dinner?” I asked.

“It is all the Alpenwalders talk about,” she said. “They are very excited. Apparently, it is one of the grandest things to happen to them since the Holy Roman Emperor came to tea in 1225.”

“No one in Europe was drinking tea in 1225,” I informed her acidly.

She gave a shrug. “Details. Now, may I come?”

“Absolutely not,” I told her, relishing the moment.

She sat back and folded her arms over her chest. “Make it happen or I will publish a story in tomorrow’s newspaper about my time in the Sudbury Hotel working as a chambermaid where I uncovered the fact that an Englishwoman of dubious reputation has been masquerading as a missing princess,” she said coolly.

“You would not dare,” Stoker began, but his tone was doubtful. She absolutely would dare.

“My reputation is not dubious,” I protested.

“It is not exactly lily white,” she countered. “And, of course, I will make certain to mention your innamorato, the black sheep of a distinguished aristocratic family. And naturally, if his name is mentioned, it will revive all those nasty stories about his divorce,” she added.

“You absolute—” The word I used was not relevant to this narrative, but it was entirely appropriate, causing Stoker to blush furiously.

“Sticks and stones,” J. J. said calmly. “Do we have a bargain? I will tell you everything I know about the princess’s departure, and I will promise not to write about your origins for