City of Secrets
Page 1
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME TITLES BY VICTORIA THOMPSON
GASLIGHT MYSTERIES
MURDER ON ASTOR PLACE
MURDER ON ST. MARK’S PLACE
MURDER ON GRAMERCY PARK
MURDER ON WASHINGTON SQUARE
MURDER ON MULBERRY BEND
MURDER ON MARBLE ROW
MURDER ON LENOX HILL
MURDER IN LITTLE ITALY
MURDER IN CHINATOWN
MURDER ON BANK STREET
MURDER ON WAVERLY PLACE
MURDER ON LEXINGTON AVENUE
MURDER ON SISTERS’ ROW
MURDER ON FIFTH AVENUE
MURDER IN CHELSEA
MURDER IN MURRAY HILL
MURDER ON AMSTERDAM AVENUE
MURDER ON ST. NICHOLAS AVENUE
MURDER IN MORNINGSIDE HEIGHTS
MURDER IN THE BOWERY
MURDER ON UNION SQUARE
COUNTERFEIT LADY NOVELS
CITY OF LIES
CITY OF SECRETS
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2018 by Victoria Thompson
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Thompson, Victoria (Victoria E.), author.
Title: City of secrets / Victoria Thompson.
Description: First edition. | New York : Berkley Prime Crime, 2018. | Series:
A counterfeit lady novel ; 2
Identifiers: LCCN 2018005085 | ISBN 9780451491619 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780451491633 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Swindlers and swindling—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION /
Historical. | FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Historical. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3570.H6442 C585 2018 | DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018005085
First Edition: November 2018
Cover art by Chris Cocozza
Cover logo elements © by yayasya/Shutterstock
Cover design by Alana Colucci
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
To my wonderful editor,
Michelle Vega,
who is godmother to the Counterfeit Lady series.
Thanks for making it better!
CONTENTS
Berkley Prime Crime Titles by Victoria Thompson
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Author’s Note
Readers Guide
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
ELIZABETH HAD TO TELL MORE LIES ON A SUNDAY MORNING AT church than she ever had trying to cheat a mark out of fifty thousand dollars.
“Lovely hat, Mrs. Snodgrass.”
“So nice to see you, Mr. Peabody.”
“Good sermon, Reverend Honesdale.”
But when she glanced over and saw the way Gideon Bates was looking at her, she decided it was worth it. If she was going to marry him, she would have to live in his world, and if that involved lying, at least it was a skill she had already mastered.
“Lizzie!” Anna Vanderslice cried, pushing her way through the worshippers who had lingered after the service to chat. She took Elizabeth’s hands in hers and gave them an affectionate squeeze.
“Anna, I’m so glad to see you.” Finally, she got to speak the truth. “How are things going at home?” she added in a whisper.
Anna’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “David finally admitted to me that he was the one who broke your engagement and he only allowed you to take the credit to save your reputation.”
Indeed, if word got out that Anna’s brother had found Elizabeth unworthy, no other gentleman in New York would dare make her an offer of marriage. Not that Elizabeth wanted to marry any of the other gentlemen in New York. “He’s very kind,” Elizabeth said with a straight face.
“I told him so, too,” Anna said. “Even though we both know he was saving his own reputation with his kindness. No debutante in the city would trust him if he threw you over. How on earth did you convince him it was his idea?”
Elizabeth couldn’t explain how she’d gotten David to break the engagement she’d previously convinced him to make, even though he’d never actually proposed to her—at least not while they were standing in a church aisle. She simply smiled mysteriously. “Are you coming to the salon this week?”
“You know I am.” Anna hadn’t missed a single one of the weekly gatherings held at Elizabeth’s aunt’s house since Elizabeth had introduced her to them.
“We can talk about it then.”
“Anna, how lovely to see you,” Gideon’s mother said, having wandered over from where she’d been greeting some friends. “Is your mother here? I didn’t see her.”
“She has a cold, so she stayed home today.”
“Nothing serious, I hope,” Mrs. Bates said.
Anna’s shrug reminded them both that her mother was something of a hypochondriac whose ailments were never serious. The three women chatted for a few minutes before Anna took her leave to find her brother.
Mrs. Bates scanned the dwindling crowd with the shrewdness of a business tycoon determined to transact a multimillion-dollar deal. Or rather with the shrewdness of a society matron determined to find a social advantage for her only son, which made her even more ruthless than a tycoon. Since her only son needed a wife who was completely acceptable to society, and since Elizabeth was the wife he wanted, Mrs. Bates had her work cut out for her.
At the moment, Gideon’s mother was limited to introducing Elizabeth to whatever illustrious individuals happened to have lingered to chat after this morning’s service. Judging from her expression, she didn’t see anyone left who was worth pursuing.
“Is Priscilla here?” Elizabeth asked, naming the one woman she’d actually become friends with so far. “I didn’t see her.”
“I thought . . .” Mrs. Bates scanned the audito
rium again. “Yes, there she is, up front. Oh dear, I hope she’s not ill.”
Indeed, Priscilla Knight was still sitting in one of the front pews, staring straight ahead and making no move to chat with any of the ladies clustering nearby.
“I’ll make sure she’s all right,” Elizabeth said, hurrying toward the front of the church.
Priscilla had recently been widowed for the second time in her young life, and Elizabeth knew she carried a heavy burden. As she approached, she saw that her friend looked more distressed than ill.
“Priscilla?”
Priscilla looked up and smiled when she recognized Elizabeth, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, Elizabeth, you startled me.”
“You did look like you were deep in thought. I didn’t know whether to interrupt you or not.” Elizabeth slid into the pew beside her. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s not.”
Which was not what people usually said unless something was very wrong indeed. “Can I help?” Elizabeth heard herself say, although she usually wasn’t the least bit interested in getting involved with other people’s problems. But she really did care about Priscilla, which was somewhat of a shock to realize.
“I don’t know if anyone can help.”
Before Elizabeth could respond to this terrifying statement, Daisy Honesdale, the minister’s wife, arrived. Her handsome face was a mask of concern. “Mrs. Knight, are you all right?”
This time Priscilla raised her head and smiled the determined smile of a woman with no intention of giving in to despair. Then she rose to her feet. “I’m perfectly fine, Mrs. Honesdale. I was just praying. For Endicott, you know,” she added, naming her most recently deceased husband.
“Of course,” Mrs. Honesdale said a little uncertainly, glancing at Elizabeth, who had risen as well. “I’m glad to see you in church today, Mrs. Knight. It’s important to see one’s friends when one is in mourning.”
If that were true, then why were widows who were still in mourning forbidden to socialize in all but the most restricted ways? But Elizabeth wasn’t going to take this particular opportunity to challenge society’s strictures. Instead she took Priscilla’s arm, sensing her friend didn’t want the minister’s wife inquiring into her problems. “Mrs. Bates wanted to say hello to you, Priscilla. Let me take you to her.”
They nodded their farewells to Mrs. Honesdale, and Elizabeth escorted Priscilla down the aisle to where Mrs. Bates waited.
“Could you . . . ?” Priscilla whispered.
“Could I what?”
“Could you come to see me?”
Elizabeth could not mistake the desperation in her friend’s eyes. “Of course.”
* * *
• • •
DAISY HONESDALE WATCHED PRISCILLA KNIGHT AND HER friend as they made their way out of the church. They were practically the last to leave, and she waited, knowing Peter would come to find her when he had shaken the hand of the last parishioner and closed the front doors.
He came down the aisle slowly, his clerical robes flapping around his long legs. He was a handsome man, just as she’d been promised, and not particularly bright, which had sealed the deal. She had made a good bargain, and soon she would have everything she had always wanted. How nice it would have been to share her victory with a beautiful man like Peter. He had worked just as hard as she to earn it, after all. But the truth was, she could no longer stand the sight of him.
“What do we know about that girl who’s been coming with Hazel Bates?” she asked when he was close enough.
Peter’s perfect face creased slightly with the effort of thinking. “Her name is Miles. Elizabeth, I think. She’s one of Mrs. Bates’s suffragette friends.”
“She’s gotten awfully friendly with Priscilla Knight.”
He glanced over his shoulder as if he could still see them. “I did notice they walked out together.”
A miracle. “Where did this Miles girl come from? Do we know anything about her?”
“I don’t think so. She just showed up with Mrs. Bates a few weeks ago.”
“Gideon seems smitten.”
“Does he? She’s quite lovely.”
Of course he’d noticed that. “She’s smart, too.”
“How can you tell?”
“Mrs. Bates wouldn’t waste time on her if she wasn’t.”
“Oh.” He considered. “I suppose you’re right.”
Of course she was right. She was always right. “We need to keep an eye on her.”
“Why?”
Daisy managed not to sigh. “Because she’s taken an interest in Priscilla, and Priscilla will soon discover her true situation, and she might confide in the Miles girl.”
“What could she confide?”
“Peter, darling, there are lots of things she could confide. She can, for example, remember the role you and I played in her most recent marriage.”
“We were only trying to help her. You said so yourself.”
“Of course we were, and we had no idea of Mr. Knight’s true nature. We are as shocked as Priscilla will be.”
“Then why do we need to keep an eye on her?”
This time Daisy allowed herself to sigh. “Because we don’t know what trouble she might cause, and we need to be ready.”
Finally, he seemed to grasp the significance of the situation. “What can we do to be ready?”
She favored him with a smile. “I don’t know yet, but opportunities have a way of presenting themselves, don’t they?”
He smiled back. “Yes, almost as if they fell from heaven.”
* * *
• • •
“WHO IS PRISCILLA KNIGHT?” GIDEON ASKED.
Elizabeth had waited until they were enjoying Sunday dinner in the Bateses’ dining room and the maid had withdrawn before telling Mrs. Bates about Priscilla’s strange request.
“Priscilla Jenks,” Mrs. Bates told her son. “You remember, DeForrest Jenks died suddenly a little over a year ago. Priscilla remarried rather quickly, to Endicott Knight.”
“That’s right,” Gideon said. “I remember now. I also remember wondering why on earth she’d married Knight.”
“He was . . . rather attractive,” Mrs. Bates allowed.
Gideon leaned over to where Elizabeth sat to his left and stage-whispered, “The way a cigar-store Indian is attractive—very noble but without much conversation.”
“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” his mother scolded.
Gideon feigned chagrin and Elizabeth bit back a smile. “She must have been thoroughly charmed if she remarried so quickly. Or maybe she just didn’t care much for her first husband and didn’t see any point in mourning him too long.”
“Oh no, she adored DeForrest. They were devoted to each other,” Mrs. Bates said. “And Gideon is right. Endicott wasn’t . . . Well, let’s just say it’s unlikely he charmed her into marrying him.”
“I heard it was money,” Gideon said.
His mother stiffened. “Was DeForrest a client of yours?”
“Certainly not. I couldn’t gossip about him if he was. And I didn’t gossip about him at all, come to that, until this very moment.”
“But someone gossiped to you and said Priscilla married this Mr. Knight for his money,” Elizabeth guessed.
Gideon winced a bit. “Something like that. Someone hinted that DeForrest had left Priscilla destitute and she needed to remarry to provide for her girls.”
Elizabeth glanced over at Mrs. Bates and saw her own disgust reflected in her expression. “How awful for her,” Mrs. Bates said.
“But a very familiar story,” Elizabeth said.
“And now she’s been widowed twice in a little over a year, and she’s barely thirty.” Mrs. Bates shook her head. “No wonder she’s distraught.
”
“So you’re going to see her?” Gideon asked Elizabeth.
“Of course. Except for the women I met in jail, she’s the only female who has shown any interest in being my friend.”
“And only a few of the jailed women live in New York,” Mrs. Bates added. “So of course Elizabeth is going to see Priscilla.”
Gideon shook his head in mock despair. “I just realized I’m probably the only attorney in New York eating Sunday dinner with two convicts.”
“Two convicts who happen to be your mother and your fiancée,” Mrs. Bates reminded him.
“I’m not his fiancée yet,” Elizabeth reminded her right back.
“That’s right,” Gideon said. “It’s bad enough that I’m stealing my best friend’s girl. I can’t be seen to do it too quickly.”
“Is there a specified period of mourning for a lost fiancée?” Elizabeth asked. “Where is Mrs. Ordway’s book? I must check the etiquette on that so you can inform poor David.” Mrs. Edith B. Ordway and her book The Etiquette of Today were considered the ultimate authorities on such matters.
“I’m very sorry to inform you, but David is not currently mourning the loss of his fiancée,” Gideon said gravely.
“You can’t mean it!” Elizabeth said in mock despair. “I thought I’d merit at least a month of grieving.”
“I believe it’s been almost a month,” Gideon said. “Nearly. Close to it, anyway.”
“It has not! I’m terribly affronted. And insulted.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but he’s actually relieved to be shed of you,” Gideon informed her.
Mrs. Bates was laughing now. “He told you this, I assume?”
Gideon managed to maintain a straight face. “Yes, this morning. Not in so many words, of course. A gentleman never besmirches a lady’s character to another gentleman.”
“Horsefeathers,” Elizabeth said. “I shall sue him for breach of promise.”
“No one does that anymore,” Gideon said in the ponderous voice he used to offer legal advice, or would use if anyone ever asked him for it. “That’s what engagement rings are for. The jilted lady can sell the ring to reimburse herself for her injured pride.”