As I dressed, the familiar tweed felt like armor, bracing me against an uncertain world. It was as much a part of me as my own skin, and I understood only then how much wearing Gisela’s clothes and jewels had affected me. I had not been entirely myself dressed as I had been in the trappings of royalty. Now I was Veronica Speedwell once more, and as I finished buttoning my jacket and shot my cuffs, I felt invigorated as I had not since we had begun this endeavor.
I had related to Stoker my exchanges with Aunt Vicky and J. J. as well as the information that Yelena was a blackmailer. We did not speak of my father; some things were too near the bone for casual discussion, and I was not ready to think about the opportunity I had let pass me by. Stoker came to collect me just as I finished, having concluded his own struggles with the false moustaches.
“I think the bloody things took off half my skin,” he complained.
“Never mind that now,” I told him. “We will have only a little time to search. I managed Gisela’s bedchamber earlier but found nothing.”
“I did the same for Durand’s room just now,” he said.
“Did what for Durand’s room?” I could just make out the large form of the captain silhouetted in the doorway.
“May I help you, Captain?” Stoker inquired politely.
“Where are the others?” he demanded.
“Still at Windsor,” I informed him. “Where you ought to be. The chancellor was most put out that you could not be found. Where is Yelena?”
Durand’s eyes were limned red with the signs of unshed tears, and a small muscle jumped unsteadily at his jaw. “I do not know.”
“She is not with you?” Stoker asked narrowly.
“If she were, would I ever have forsaken my duty?” He was clearly aghast at the very idea of such a thing. “I stayed behind to look for her.”
“Is that not a dereliction of duty?” I inquired.
“I do not care,” he said, thumping his chest with one fist. “What does it matter if my heart is gone from me?”
I sighed. Durand was clearly as big a romantic as Stoker. “You read poetry, don’t you?” I asked.
He blinked at me. “Yes. I write it also.”
“Of course you do,” I murmured.
Stoker shot me a villainous look. “Veronica, contain your worse impulses. The captain is clearly distraught.”
Durand blinked. “What is this word?”
“‘Distraught’? It means upset. Deeply upset,” Stoker told him.
The captain nodded slowly. “Upset. Yes, this is true. My Yelena is gone.”
His face crumpled and for one terrible moment I thought he was going to weep, and I had had quite enough of crying men for one day.
I spoke to him in a brisk tone, calculated to stiffen his mettle. “Come now, Captain. It cannot be as bad as all that.”
He fixed me with an imploring look. “I know you find things,” he said. “I have heard the baroness and the chancellor speak of it.”
“We do have some experience,” I said with a modest gesture.
“Then you will find my Yelena. Please.”
I sighed and looked at the clock. Time was getting on and this might easily be our only opportunity to search for any clues to where the princess had gone or who had been responsible for Alice’s murder. “The baroness said she received a note and went out, quite suddenly.”
“A note from whom?” he asked, thrusting out his chest manfully. “If it was another man, I will kill him.”
“There is really no call for that,” I told him firmly. “It did occur to me that perhaps Yelena was summoned by the princess.”
Something like hope kindled in his eyes. “You think so?”
