Imposter Bride

by Patricia Simpson

  A good half hour later, the driver pulled up at the door of the townhouse, which appeared ominously dark. Was the captain already asleep? Or was he not at home? Surely Mrs. Betrus must be in the house.

  Sophie hurried to the door, struck by a sudden and unexpected pang of homesickness for the place where she’d spent some wonderful moments. She rapped on the door. No one answered. She rapped again and listened for the sound of footsteps in the short hallway on the other side of the entry. The house was silent.

  Perhaps Mrs. Betrus was visiting her sister and the captain was out or still at his club. She turned, and instructed the driver to take her to Maxwell’s.

  Though she should not enter such a place unescorted, she had no choice but to look for the captain at his club. If she didn’t deliver the buckle tomorrow, she would face certain ruination, a trial, and probably the gallows.

  Maxwell’s was another quarter hour away. The closer they got to the club, the tighter grew the pinched feeling in Sophie’s stomach. Meeting Ramsay at his house was one thing, seeking him out at his place of business was quite another. If people saw them together, what gossip would fly? It was bad enough that she’d slapped Edward in the park. What would he think if he heard she had made a rendezvous with the captain?

  She forced herself not to think of the social ruin she might bring down upon herself. Besides, if all went as she hoped, she would soon be far away from London, without a care to what the Metcalfs thought of her.

  The coach pulled to a stop in front of the three-story building, with its symmetrical facade of twelve windows and two graceful columns on either side of the double entry. Liveried attendants waited at the door and were kept busy by a constant stream of people. Light poured from every window, and even in the street she could hear the loud hum of a crowd.

  The driver came around to open her door and assist her to the footpath.

  “Welcome to Maxwell’s,” he announced.

  Sophie glanced up at the lighted windows, heard the laughter of a woman as she glided toward the entrance on the arm of a well-dressed man, and changed her mind.

  “I will not be going in,” she decided. “Would you find the owner, Captain Ramsay, and ask that he meet me outside?”

  “Shall I use your name, Miss?” he asked.

  “It’s Katherine Hinds.”

  “Beware of footpads, miss. If you so much as suspect mischief in the making, you run inside.”

  “All right.”

  More at ease with her decision to remain outside, she sat back to wait. Still, the tightness in her stomach did not dissipate. No matter where she was meeting Ian Ramsay and how angry she was with him, she was nervous in anticipation of seeing him.

  Time dragged on, and Sophie began to wonder if the driver had run into trouble. Again and again, she watched the door open, but no Ian Ramsay exited the building. The tension became unbearable, and she was just about to burst out of the coach and march into the club, when she saw the driver come down the footpath from a side entry, walking with a small, slight man.

  Perhaps Ramsay had decided to honor his promise not to see her again. She felt oddly deflated, and sat back in the coach, so no one would guess she’d been staring out the window.

  The door opened and the short man slipped in.

  “Good evening, Miss Hinds,” he greeted.

  Sophie recognized the man from the day of the huge snowstorm when the captain had taught her to dance.

  “Good evening, Mr. Puckett.”

  “You are looking for the captain?”

  “Yes, it’s very important that I speak with him.”

  Puckett frowned. “Unfortunately, the captain has left town.”

  “Left town?” she cried.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Puckett asked, leaning forward. “Is there something I can do?”

  “Thank you for offering, Mr. Puckett, but it is the captain I must see.”

  “He went to Scotland. Left a few hours ago.”

  “Scotland?” She gasped.

  “Yes.” Puckett pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. “Please don’t think I’m prying, but is it the earl?” he asked. “Has he upset you?”

  “No, not at all.” She put a hand to her mouth, wondering what she was going to do. “When will Ramsay be back?”

  “Probably not for a month.”

  “Oh dear.”

  Puckett watched her, his face lined with worry. “There might be a chance that a courier could catch up with him.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I need to speak to him directly.”

  “Personal, then?”

  “I lost something at his house. I need to recover it by tomorrow. It’s very important.”

  “Oh, I could help you with that.”

  “But I think the captain might have the item.”

  “And may I ask what it is?”

  Sophie sighed, not sure if she should divulge the object of her quest and wondering if she could trust Ramsay’s assistant. He seemed an honorable fellow, and Ramsay certainly entrusted him with his business affairs. She would have to take the chance.

  “I had a buckle. A diamond buckle. It seems to have been misplaced.”

  “Oh?” Puckett dabbed his forehead again, agitated.

  “I know it sounds odd, but it’s a matter of life and death that I have the buckle in my hands by eleven tomorrow morning.”

  “Even if a courier was dispatched immediately, I doubt you could make such a deadline.”

  Sophie glanced out the window as her world closed in upon her, suffocating her. What would she do now? The only person who might have helped her had left the country. She had to procure immunity somehow, or she would be dogged by the law for the rest of her days. She had to ensure she was legally protected as soon as possible by someone who could put Constable Keener in his place. And that meant marrying Edward Metcalf.

  The next morning at eleven, the earliest hour it was proper to make a call, Sophie arrived at Blethin Hall, home of the Metcalf family, the place where all her trouble had begun. She found it ironic that she had been forced to return to the estate and forced to look to Edward for help, now that Ramsay had left London for Scotland.

  Sophie stood at the front entrance, her entrails knotted with anxiety. She had no intention of meeting the constable’s agent at noon as planned, as it would have been fruitless to hand over the substitute buckle. Instead, she had come on an entirely different mission, and one that filled her with dread. She steeled herself and put on a smile as the door opened to admit her.

  The Metcalf’s butler ushered her into the underheated and overly ornate Blethin Hall. She had forgotten how oppressive the house was, and especially now that she was worried and upset. Everywhere she looked she was bombarded by red and yellow chintz patterns, ornate Japanese vases, loops of fringe and tassels, and swirling oriental carpets. She wondered that the entire Metcalf family wasn’t a bit mad having spent their lives in such a riot of color and pattern.

  When Sophie was announced, Charlotte held out her hands in greeting and gave her a hug.

  “My soon-to-be sister!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful to see you!”

  “Did you enjoy the ball the other night?” Sophie asked, struggling to make small talk.

  “Oh yes! That mysterious Captain Ramsay was there. Scandalous, wasn’t it?”

  “I believe my grandmother likes to raise eyebrows.”

  “I think so, too!” Charlotte sat down in an armless chair and spread her skirts around her. She was dressed in yellow, which set off her dark hair. “Tell me, Katherine, what is the captain like? He seemed too distracted to say more than three words to me the other evening.”

  “That’s the way he is. He’s a quiet man, not meant for small talk.”

  “But I like that quality in a man. And he’s so attractive.” She poured a cup of tea for Sophie and lifted it her way. “I have half a notion to invite him to tea. Do you think he would come?”

  Sophie doubted
it. “He’s very busy, you know.”

  “Does he have a mistress?”

  “Heavens, how should I know!”

  “You stayed with him all those days, didn’t you? Surely you learned something!”

  “He didn’t talk much about himself.”

  “What about cards? Does he like cards?”

  “He’s never mentioned it.” Sophie sipped her tea. “And I’ve never seen him play.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I’ll have Edward escort me to Maxwell’s. That’s the club the captain owns, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Maybe tonight. I haven’t been able to think of anything but that man for the last two days. I can’t tell you how he makes me feel!” She waved a graceful hand in front of her face, as if fanning overheated skin, and smiled. Charlotte was kind and lovely, and Sophie had no wish to see her hurt. But she could not tell Charlotte the truth about Captain Ramsay without doing him harm. Even though she was angry with him for spurning her, she still owed him a great deal. In fact, she would not even mention that Ramsay was out of town, in case he didn’t want his absence known.

  “Some men have that effect,” she agreed. Then she lifted her cup. “And I don’t mean to change the subject, but is Edward home?”

  “Yes, but he’s in a foul mood. I’d come back tomorrow, if I were you.”

  “Oh?” She glanced in the direction of the central stairs, as if hoping to see through the ceiling. Her behavior at Hyde Park had likely contributed to his bad humor.

  “Don’t let Mother know I told you this, but he is suffering a hangover. I saw him come home last night, roaring drunk.”

  “Poor Edward.”

  “Poor Edward nothing. It’s his own fault.” Charlotte winked. “Let’s hope marriage will rein him in a little. Men can be so wild!”

  “Can’t they.” Sophie took another drink of tea, wondering what she should do. She simply had to speak to Edward, and the sooner the better. It might be hours before the constable decided to act against her. Or it might be a matter of minutes after noon before he sought vengeance against her. She could waste no time.

  “Do you think I could see him for just a few moments?” she asked. “I believe I hurt his feelings yesterday, and it’s quite consuming me, the thought of him suffering on my account.”

  “Hurt Edward’s feelings?” Charlotte repeated, as if the idea was out of the realm of possibilities.

  “Yes. I couldn’t bear it if I knew I had caused him distress.”

  “You are so sweet, Katherine.” Charlotte put down her cup. “How can I refuse you?” she rose to her feet. “Come, I’ll take you to his room. It can’t hurt. After all, you are to be married.”

  “Thank you.”

  Charlotte took her hand and led her up the grand staircase to the second level. At the landing, she turned right and walked along the passageway until she came to a partially-opened door.

  “Edward, you have company.”

  “Go away!” a surly voice yelled back.

  The two women exchanged glances, but Charlotte only smiled again, accustomed to her brother’s cross nature. “It’s your bride-to-be. Are you decent?”

  “I said, go away!”

  Charlotte pushed open the door. “He will be happy to see you,” she said, giggling.

  Sophie had no such command of her sense of humor. She walked across the threshold, not sure what she should do. Sheer desperation was the only reason she kept moving forward.

  Edward lay on a chaise by a fire, a glass of water at his elbow and a folded cloth on his forehead. He was dressed in a morning coat of light gray, with dark gray breeches, white hose and slippers.

  Sophie approached him, still not sure what to say. “Edward,” she began.

  “Katherine?” At the sound of her voice he looked up, and reached for the cloth on his head. He dragged it off as he sat up part way. “I thought Charlotte was jesting.”

  “No, ‘tis I.”

  “Come to slap me again?”

  “To apologize.”

  “Really?” His cool gaze swept over her. “Why the change of heart?”

  “I don’t know what came over me yesterday. And I’ve been a wreck all night, thinking how I must have hurt your feelings.”

  “Indeed?” he purred, his usual smugness returning.

  “Having time to think it over, I believe I was frightened, and I simply struck out at you without quite knowing my own mind. The past month has been a trying time for me, Edward. All the changes. All the new people and places—”

  “But you slapped me.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry for it. Dreadfully sorry.”

  “How sorry?”

  “Very exceedingly sorry.”

  “Well,” he smiled for the first time. “I admire a girl who can admit she was wrong.” He held out his hand. “Come here.”

  She stared at his hand, sure she didn’t want to get any closer to him, but knowing she must if she were to carry out her plan. She stepped forward. He clutched her fingers and drew her down until she sat on the edge of the chaise, her hips touching his thigh.

  “Can you forgive me?” she whispered, barely able to stomach her own words. “Dear, dear Edward?”

  “As long as you don’t do it again.”

  “I promise.”

  “Then seal it with a kiss.”

  She looked down at his face, at his lazy blue eyes, and marveled that he could harbor any passion for a woman, as he seemed so bored with life. He gazed languidly at her, waiting for her, a half smile on his lips, confident that she would grant his request.

  Sophie drew in a breath, forcing herself to play a part she not only didn’t feel, but didn’t relish. Perhaps she would get accustomed to this man’s touch, but she would never desire it. She leaned closer, and he reached up to pull her head down to his. He kissed her hard, his fingers clutching bunches of her hair, trapping her against his mouth. She wanted to struggle, to push him away, but she could not. She had to swallow her pride and actually encourage him.

  She caressed his face and allowed her bosom to heave, guessing that it would arouse him. He reacted as she suspected, kissing her throat and straining to press his nose between the mounds of her breasts.

  “You frightened me so yesterday,” she whispered in his hair. “With your kisses, your ardor.”

  “Because I am mad for you,” he responded, his voice slurred. He struggled to push down the tight edge of her bodice to get to her breasts, recovering with amazing speed from his hangover. “I can’t help it, Katherine!”

  “I don’t know of these things. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Ah, love, I will show you!”

  “But will it hurt me?” She pulled back. “I’ve heard it will hurt.”

  “No. Those are just tales to frighten young maids.” His eyes looked feverish. “Wait a moment.” He twisted and jumped to his feet, and strode across the room to shut the door. Then he locked it and turned back to face her.

  Chapter 15

  “You’ve been told lies, Miss Hinds,” Edward said, pulling off his coat. “By dried up old governesses and prudes.”

  “Truly?”

  “It’s time you had a lesson.” He stopped near the chaise and unbuttoned the flap of his pants. “Look what you do to me, Katherine.”

  He showed himself to her, and it was all she could do to keep from turning away in disgust. Instead, she put both hands over her eyes, and pretended to peek through her fingers. “When it swells like this, it is so painful. You can’t believe how painful.”

  “Oh dear! What causes it?”

  “Desire for you.”

  “For me?” She lowered her hands. “What can be done about it?”

  He laughed. “Oh, delightful, Miss Hinds!” He caught his lower lip in his teeth and looked down at himself.

  She glanced at him and then back to his face, knowing she had to finish what she started this time, and loathed the thought of accepting this man as a lover.

>   “Come,” he said, reaching out to her. “Stand up for a moment.”

  She did as requested, and he sighed with pleasure as he brought her against him. Though she could feel nothing much through her thick petticoat, she guessed Edward felt a great deal, because his breath stuck in his throat as he clutched her even tighter. “Ah, that’s a good girl.”

  He moved his hips as he kissed her, and squeezed her and clutched her until he arched against her, gasping, “Your hanky, your hanky!”

  Worried about the tight insistence in his voice, she struggled to pull out her handkerchief from the sleeve of her bodice, and gave it to him. He breathed a string of profanities, and then clutched the linen to himself, pouring his seed into it as far as she could tell.

  Then, panting, he collapsed upon the chaise, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. Sophie brushed her skirts into place while Edward lay there, spent, and didn’t even bother to cover himself.

  Sophie had never been as shocked or as disgusted by a man’s behavior. He hadn’t said one romantic word to her, and had used her womanly curves to arouse himself and find his pleasure. The moment had been all about the fulfillment of his desire, and nothing about her. She could have been anyone standing in the room with him—anyone with a warm body and a pair of breasts for him to fondle.

  Still, she could not allow her disgust to show. She must call upon every shred of fortitude she possessed to walk Edward Metcalf through the next few moments.

  Sophie dropped to the cushion beside him and bent to his mouth. She pressed a chaste kiss upon his dry lips.

  “You are like a wild beast,” she murmured.

  “See what you do to me?” He smiled. “Just wait until next time, when we have more privacy.”