Chapter 18
Chapter
Margaret’s mind had completely derailed. Great iron wheels spinning in vain as her D.O.G.S. training puffed out of her head like steam from a locomotive smokestack, dissipating in the wind.
She gawked at the library door. Mr. Noble was just on the other side.
Any moment now, the chief would conclude her preliminary interview and send him in here, for her to recruit as a covert asset.
For her to work alongside on the purloined patent case without the guise of an alias to imbue her with confidence.
Yes, she’d still be maintaining her cover at the Invention Factory, but Mr. Noble would be in on her secret now, which meant she’d have to speak to the man as herself.
A gasp of panic triggered a spasm of pain in Margaret’s side.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t flip a points lever and keep chugging along, smoothly switching back and forth between the tracks of her true identity and the railway of her undercover alias.
She didn’t have that level of experience as an inspector.
Even if she managed to get her mind back on track, she still needed time to prepare.
To plan. To gauge if she had enough teaspoons left to not let everyone down.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t just derail the night’s impromptu mission.
She’d suffer a crash with the entire D.O.G.S. on board.
“Everything is going to be fine, Maggie.” Jane leaned forward on the chair across from the divan without so much as a creak of the wingback’s antique walnut frame.
She locked eyes with Margaret, gaze focused and steady as she spoke in hushed tones.
“Helena will go apprise your parents of the situation, so they’re not caught unawares, then she’s been assigned to keep an eye on Mumsie and distract her with a new naturalism book, if necessary. ”
Margaret nodded her comprehension as Helena squeezed her hand and vanished from the room. Good, good. Her parents would adhere to protocol, and Helena would have no trouble occupying Mumsie with their mutual favorite subject.
“Louisa and Professor Quimby will return to the receiving table to see to the donations and keep up appearances should any latecomers arrive. Meanwhile, Iva Leene and I will be stationed at the library door on standby, should you need assistance, and to prevent anyone from wandering in here. Once you’ve recruited Mr. Noble, I’ll return him to Mr. Harrison’s company before he’s missed, and Iva Leene will see you home via the servants’ entrance before Mr. Harrison catches sight of you. ”
Nodding again, Margaret exhaled a long breath and relaxed a trifle.
There was some sort of plan. She’d no idea how Jane managed to come up with such a plan spur of the moment, but she could play her part.
Hopefully. “Shouldn’t someone make my excuses to Lady Darrowby?
She’s sure to notice my absence eventually. ”
Before Jane could reply, the upholstered divan seat took to the air and landed on the floor with a thwump. Startled, the pair turned to find Lady Darrowby emerging from the divan, her coiffure having replaced the cushioned bench.
The duchess returned their astonished looks with a demure smile. “Given that Lady Darrowby was serving as an inspector whilst the pair of you were still being toted about in prams, I should think that unnecessary.”
Served as a . . . great gadgets, how many surprises could one night hold? Margaret blinked as the duchess extricated herself from the divan as though she’d had more than one occasion to emerge from the piece of furniture situated flush upon the wood floor. “You’re a lady inspector?”
“Former lady inspector.” The duchess restored the cushioned seat to its place and lowered upon it gracefully. “As per the bylaws of the Daughters of Genius Society, I was forced to retire upon wedding my covert asset.”
Margaret blinked again. “The Duke of Darrowby was a covert asset?”
“Indeed, covert assets aren’t a rarity, I assure you.
The Daughters of Genius Society has always utilized them.
Quite strategically and conscientiously, of course.
Why, the duke was just one of many covert assets who assisted me in cases over the years, though he was the only one to win my affections and thus end my career.
Not that I regret it, mind. My Mickey is an absolute dear, and the way he leads one in a waltz is most .
. . invigorating. I do, however, still lament that the Widow didn’t acquiesce to my request for members of the D.O.G.S.
to be referred to as ‘secret agents’ and use code names.
For example, I proposed to be called Agent Buttons.
Does that not sound mysterious? Alas, the Widow argued code names were an unnecessary convolution and the term secret agent would never catch on as it was too preposterous to consider for practical implementation. ”
Margaret gaped indecorously. For Lady Darrowby to have petitioned the Widow about such matters . . . why, she must’ve been present at the society’s inception. A founding member, as it were. “Does Mumsie know about this?”
“Heidi? Not a word of it! When I was an inspector, we didn’t travel in the same social circles, and by the time we were fortunate enough to cross paths, I’d long since gone inactive.
The only reason I’m telling you now is because Elenore—ahem .
. . Professor Quimby thought I ought to be made aware of recent developments, seeing as they were taking place in my home.
” Lady Darrowby gave one of the divan’s armrests a pat.
“Thus why I was ensuring the old secret passageway remained in working order, just in case. A lady can never be too prepared, polite, or armed.”
Armed? “Duchess Darrowby, are you carrying?”
“Always. I’m never without my favorite pistol.
My father was an avid marksman and taught me well.
I’m proud to say, in my career as a lady inspector, I never missed a shot.
If one must incapacitate a belligerent, one ought to do so properly.
Now, I shall leave you to your work, inspectors.
You mustn’t fritter away time listening to an old woman reminisce about her glorious youth. ”
On the contrary, Margaret felt as though she could listen to Lady Darrowby reminisce for several enraptured hours rather happily, but the woman had already risen and taken her leave, exiting the library with a graceful air of nonchalance that belied the astonishing nature of her entrance.
Margaret blinked. “Did that . . . did that really just happen?”
“The Duchess of Darrowby popping up from the furnishings like a jack-in-the-box? Indeed, it did,” Jane confirmed with an insouciant nod.
“Great gadgets!” Mind spinning, Margaret found herself eyeing the room’s other fixtures warily. “If there’s a duchess in the divan, one can’t help but wonder if there’s a baroness concealed behind every bookcase. Or a countess lurking behind the curtains. Or a—”
“The duchess was quite right, Maggie. Delay only serves to heighten nerves and suspicions, and you’ve obviously enough to spare as it is. Best to find calm in focusing on the task at hand.” Jane nodded toward the library door. “Are you ready to recruit Mr. Noble?”
Not unless abundant politeness could make up for an absence of preparedness and arms. Margaret straightened in her wheelchair, regaining control of her whirling wits by calmly smoothing a few wrinkles from her cerulean tea gown.
Just focus on the task at hand. Focus and follow the proper protocols.
Before her mind could throw a wrench of self-doubt into the newly turning cogs of her resolve, she nodded.
Lord, give me strength. “Send in Mr. Noble.”
“That’s the spirit, Maggie. Just remain tranquil and rely on your training. You can do this. Besides, I’m fairly certain your prospective asset won’t require much convincing.” Jane smiled, as much as she ever did, the expression suppressed and fleeting. Then she was gone.
What exactly had Jane meant by that last remark?
Margaret hadn’t time to ponder before Mr. Noble entered the room.
He took in the sight of her alone in the library, glanced over his shoulder at the guarded door, and then slowly made his way her direction.
His cheeks were rather flushed. Poor man must’ve grown overheated in the corridor.
“Are you unwell, Mr. Noble? You look a little feverish.”
Turning an even deeper shade of crimson, the man tugged at his collar.
“I’m q-quite well, thank you.” Mr. Noble’s gaze dropped to the floorboards as though embarrassed she’d mentioned his health, which struck Margaret with immediate remorse.
She knew all too well how uncomfortable it could be to have one’s well-being, or lack thereof, made a topic of discussion.
Badly done, Margaret. “Do, please, take a seat.”
Mr. Noble raised his eyes to meet hers once more, a lock of brown hair breaking free of its pomade to sweep across his brow. Without a word, he lowered into the wingback.
Odd, the chair hadn’t felt so terribly close when Jane had occupied it moments earlier. A strange, fluttery sensation upset Margaret’s stomach. Nerves, no doubt. Best to forge ahead and settle this quickly. “I assume Professor Quimby has read you in on . . . well, everything.”
“Indeed, Lady Margaret. She has.”
There was no trace of aggravation or annoyance in Mr. Noble’s use of her title.
For some reason she couldn’t deduce, he was taking the night’s series of extraordinary events remarkably well.
“Since you were granted entry to the library, I can also assume the chief deemed you a trustworthy candidate for the position of covert asset.”
“Indeed, Lady Margaret. She did.”
“Excellent. Then, I suppose, the only thing left is for me to officially confirm whether you are willing to act as my covert asset on this investigation, Mr. Noble.”
“Quite, Lady Margaret. I am entirely at your disposal.”