Dancing on the Wind

by Mary Jo Putney

  She blushed and ducked her head as if embarrassed by the warmth in his eyes. "All of our lives, people have said that Kristine and I are the most identical twins they've ever seen," she said haltingly. "But believe me, if Kristine was here, you could tell us apart instantly. You'd never notice I was in the room, because she has the kind of vitality that draws every eye."

  "Many actresses and actors have that ability, and they can turn it off when they choose to," he said, unimpressed. His eyes narrowed. "When Lady Graham introduced us, you recognized me, though you tried to conceal your reaction."

  "That wasn't recognition, but alarm," she said tartly. "You were glaring at me as if I were a cockroach."

  "Surely not a cockroach," he said with an involuntary smile.

  "Your expression was enough to terrify any innocent female." She went to stand by the fire, her head bowed. "I don't know what is between you and Kristine, and frankly, I don't want to know. My only desire is to be left in peace."

  "I'm still not convinced that you have a sister." He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, regarding her thoughtfully. "Since my experience is that you are a fluent liar, I'll need stronger evidence than your unsupported word."

  She raised her head and gave him an icy glance. "I can't see why the burden of proof should be on me. I was minding my own business when you assaulted me."

  Good God, what if she really was an innocent stranger who had never seen him before? An appalling thought. "If you're telling the truth about having a twin sister, I'll owe you a groveling apology."

  A hint of smile showed in her eyes, as if the prospect pleased her. "Prepare yourself to be humbled, Lord Strathmore, because Kristine is as real as you are."

  As she became more relaxed, Kathryn paradoxically seemed both more and less like the woman he knew. She had the familiar quicksilver intelligence, yet it was coupled with a cool reserve that was new to him. Of course, an actress could simulate that.

  He was more likely to get information by being conciliatory instead of accusing. "I know it's an impertinence on my part, Lady Kathryn, but would you be willing to explain why you and your sister are leading such different lives?"

  At the implication that he had accepted her story, she relaxed even more and took a seat by the fire. "It's really quite simple. My father was the fourth Earl of Markland. The Traverses have never had any distinction apart from charm, wildness, and a tendency to produce identical twins. The family seat, Langdale Court, was in Westmoreland."

  He took the chair opposite her. "Was?"

  She sighed. "My father inherited a load of debts and promptly piled on a mountain of his own. The house was falling about our ears when we were growing up. My mother died when we were ten, and after that we ran wild. If some of the ladies in the neighborhood hadn't taken an interest in us, we would have been complete heathens. Papa managed to hold off the bailiffs when he was alive, but after his death five years ago, the estate went to auction, the title went to a second cousin in America, and Kristine and I were left penniless."

  "Your father was so irresponsible that he made no provisions for your future?"

  "Thinking about the future was not in his nature," she said dryly. "I suppose he thought that eventually he would dower us with the winnings from some card game, but he never got around to it. My mother was a vicar's daughter who was disowned after eloping with my father, so there was no help from her side of the family either. Kristine and I were in the position of any other young ladies of good birth and no fortune."

  "Which is not a good position at all."

  "Precisely. One can marry, find work, or become a poor relation existing on charity."

  "Marriage would seem the logical choice. You are both very attractive young women."

  "It takes a great deal of beauty to overcome the lack of a dowry," she said cynically. "And there were... other reasons."

  He wondered what they might be, but refused to let himself get sidetracked. "Is that when you came to live with Lady Jane?"

  She nodded. "Fortunately, Aunt Jane had inherited a modest independence from her grandmother, enough to maintain an establishment here in London. I was happy to accept when she offered us a home, since I don't think I would make a very good governess, and I certainly wasn't qualified to do anything else."

  When she fell silent, he prodded, "What about Kristine?"

  She gazed into the dancing flames. "My sister is ten minutes older than I, and she inherited both of our shares of the Travers charm and wildness. She's too headstrong, too independent, to settle for a quiet life with a blue stocking aunt. She had always loved acting and performing, and she often organized plays and concerts. So she decided to throw propriety to the winds and try for a career in the theater."

  "And so the two of you become classic examples of good twin, wicked twin."

  Missing the irony in his tone, she said sharply, "Kristine is not evil, simply braver than most. She would never take the coward's way out."

  Was that how Kathryn saw her own life—as the coward's way out? "The theater may not be evil," he said mildly, "but it is an unusual choice for a gently bred girl. Her reputation would be destroyed."

  "Kristine said what use is a reputation when it comes to putting food on the table? If she was going to be poor, she might as well enjoy herself. She chose to use a stage name to avoid embarrassing the family, not that there is much family left to embarrass. It took her several years, but as you know, she's now doing very well."

  "Do you keep in close touch with her?"

  Expression troubled, Kathryn turned her gaze back to the fire. "Though Aunt Jane has radical political views, her personal moral standards are of the highest. She strongly disapproved of Kristine's decision and forbade her the house. That made it... difficult for me to see my sister."

  "In other words, you had to choose between your twin and having a roof over your head," Lucien guessed. "Difficult."

  "Not at all. Kristine effectively made the decision for both of us, just as she always made decisions in the past."

  The pain in her voice cut too close to the bone for Lucien's comfort. "Surely she misses you as much as you miss her."

  Kathryn's face shuttered. "That is neither here nor there, Lord Strathmore. You wanted to know why my sister and I lead very different lives, and now you do. I'll thank you not to spread the information. Jane would not like it to be public knowledge that Cassie James is really a black sheep Travers."

  "Your aunt sounds like a bit of a tyrant."

  "She has been very good to me," Kathryn said with even greater coldness. "I will not countenance criticism of her."

  He admired her loyalty and hoped it was rewarded in kind. Despite her prickliness, there was a vulnerability about Kathryn that made him want to protect her—even though he was still not convinced that she wasn't a bald-faced liar.

  "Though actresses can happen in even the best regulated families, I understand why Lady Jane would rather not advertise the connection. However, since you are identical twins, trying to conceal the relationship seems like an exercise in futility."

  She shrugged. "Not really. While we are generally considered attractive, we have no single, distinctive feature like red hair or unusual height. When Kristine performs, she wears costumes and cosmetics so that she scarcely looks like herself, much less like me. Since my circle of acquaintance is small, there are few people in a position to notice the resemblance. No one has made the connection yet."

  He smiled. "I take your point, but you do yourself and your sister less than justice. Though your features may not be flamboyant, the total effect is... memorable." His gaze went to the heavy coil of hair at her nape. If loosened, it would fall past her waist. "For example, your hair might be dismissed as merely brown, but it is still lovely. Thick, shiny, and shimmering with gold highlights."

  She touched her head self-consciously, then stopped in midgesture. "I should have thought of it sooner—our hair is the one obvious difference between my sister and me
. Mine has never been cut, but Kristine shortened hers to make it easier to wear wigs." A triumphant gleam showed in her eyes. "Even the cleverest of actresses couldn't grow this much hair in the interval since you last saw my sister, Lord Strathmore. Does that finally convince you that we are two different women?"

  A vivid mental image of soft hair brushing Cassie James's shoulders flashed through his mind. He uttered a mental oath. Damnation, but his brain was failing. He should have noticed himself. A different apparent hair length was not absolute proof that he was dealing with two separate women, but it came close. "You could be wearing a switch of false hair."

  She rolled her eyes. "You're a suspicious man, but even you must admit that if I am using a switch, it is an exact match for my natural hair."

  She was correct again; her warm, subtly gilded brown tresses were entirely consistent. Half joking, he said, "For proof positive, I would have to pull out the pins so your hair could fall freely."

  Her eyes narrowed like an aggrieved feline. "Enough, Lord Strathmore. A certain amount can be forgiven because you confused me with my sister, but I will not permit further assaults on my person. Surely, even rakes know that the rules are different for actresses and ladies."

  He had to laugh. "You've routed me completely, Lady Kathryn. One last question before I take my leave. Besides her acting, does your sister write political essays under the name L. J. Knight?"

  Kathryn's brows arched. "Of course not. She is an excellent actress, but certainly not a writer. What ever gave you such a foolish idea?"

  "Kristine did."

  "She must have given a truly superior performance if she convinced you that a twenty-four-year-old girl could write with the perception of L. J. Knight."

  "She's a very persuasive young woman." Making a guess based on something he had heard in her voice, he asked, "Do you know Mr. Knight yourself?"

  "Not personally, but Aunt Jane does. According to her, he is an aging invalid with a sharp tongue and little patience for human foibles. They deal very well together."

  If Kathryn knew that about Knight, undoubtedly Kristine did too, which would explain why she had known it was safe to claim his identity. It all made sense.

  Getting to his feet, Lucien said, "You've been very helpful, Lady Kathryn. I'm sorry if I distressed you earlier."

  "That's not a true groveling apology, but I will accept it anyhow." She gave him a level look. "You're not going to hurt Kristine when you find her, are you?"

  "No." He smiled wryly. "Besides, I haven't the foggiest notion where she is. Unless you can tell me?"

  "Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you, Lord Strathmore. I may not approve of the life Kristine has chosen, but she is still my sister."

  He had not expected anything else. "Very well. Until next time, Lady Kathryn."

  "I sincerely hope that there will never be another time," she said with a return to her earlier acerbity. "Considering the length of time we have been closeted together, it would be best if we left separately. I'll wait here for a few minutes."

  He hesitated as if on the verge of saying something more, then settled for a bow and a formal farewell.

  * * *

  After the study door closed, Kit leaned back in her chair, shaking. Had Strathmore believed her? He had seemed to, but she was unsure; he was a difficult man to read. She wondered what he would do with the information he had pried out of her. Though he might not be an enemy, that didn't mean that he wasn't a danger.

  Danger...

  She shivered as a disturbingly vivid memory of how it had felt to be in his arms flashed through her mind. Dear Lord, she should have slapped him sooner instead of clinging to him like ivy! She had not behaved at all like the prim, ladylike Kathryn Travers who had inherited a double share of propriety. But she had felt so good, so blessedly safe, that she had been temporarily paralyzed. The Travers part of her was shameless.

  She found herself rubbing the itchy spot inside her thigh, and instantly dropped her hand. Thank heaven he hadn't seen the tattoo. If he had, she would really be in trouble.

  Chapter 18

  Lucien had trouble falling asleep after he returned from the salon. When he did, his dreams were disturbing. He found himself trapped in a swirling, featureless fog that hid all landmarks. As he inched his way forward, knowing that he had a vital mission to perform, he suddenly saw his lovely, elusive Lady Nemesis just ahead of him, her slim body clothed only in mist. Her beauty caught at his heart.

  She smiled and extended her hand. He stepped forward eagerly, but before they could touch, her expression changed to horror. She turned and fled. Ignoring the menacing shapes that surrounded them, he raced in pursuit, determined to claim her. She led him to a castle built of stones as dark as death. Sensing that it would be disastrous to enter, he called a warning, but she plunged recklessly through the black arch.

  Grimly, he followed. He emerged into a bright chamber filled with mirrors, every one of them reflecting a different image of her. She was a frightened chambermaid, a worldly, provocative actress, a cool intellectual—every guise he had seen and many that he had not.

  And through the hall echoed the desolate sounds of a woman weeping with anguish.

  Desperate to help, he reached out to a sad-eyed image—Kristine? Kathryn?—and banged his hand into the cold, impervious surface of a mirror.

  Behind him a husky voice whispered, "Help me, Lucien—in the name of God, please help me."

  He whirled about, but could not tell which of the glittering reflections was real. Increasingly frantic, he searched through the hall until his lungs burned and his hands bled from smashing into an infinity of mirrors. But he could not find the warm, flesh-and-blood reality of the woman he sought—only mirrors and cruelly mocking images.

  He awoke, shaking and possessed by a feeling of doom, though he wasn't sure if the doom was his or hers. Perhaps it was mutual. He forced himself to lie back on the pillows and relax, muscle by muscle.

  As his breathing steadied, he had the wry thought that at least he wasn't experiencing the paralyzing emptiness he had known after the sordid encounter with Lola. With his Lady Nemesis, the problem was not too little emotion, but too much, most of it frustration.

  Though Lucien was nine-tenths convinced that his quarry was Kristine Travers, a volatile actress with a very proper twin sister, he was too experienced to accept Kathryn's story without confirmation. His Great-aunt Josephine, the dowager Countess of Steed, might be able to tell him what he needed to know. She had a very long ear for gossip; it was a family trait.

  Fortunately, his aunt was willing to receive him at an unfashionably early hour. Tiny and silver-haired, she sat by a fire, swaddled in shawls, when he was shown into her morning room. "Ring for tea, my boy," she ordered. "Then come here and give your old aunt a kiss."

  After he had obeyed, she waved him into a chair opposite hers. "Have you come here to tell me that you are on the verge of matrimony?"

  He laughed. "The answer is the same as always: no. I promise that if I ever change my mind, you'll be one of the first to know, but for now, you'll have to content yourself with sprigs from other branches of the family tree."

  Lady Steed nodded her head, unsurprised. "Then you're probably here to pry facts from my doddering old brain."

  "Doddering—you? Your mind and memory are as sharp as a Florentine dagger."

  She tried to scowl reprovingly, but couldn't conceal her smile. "What do you want to know this time?"

  "You have friends in Westmoreland, don't you?"

  "The Miltons, near Kendal. The dowager and I have been bosom bows for almost sixty years. I visit them for a fortnight every summer on my way to Scotland. The current viscount is my godson." She peered balefully over her gold-rimmed half-spectacles. "Lord Milton married at twenty-two and has three sons now. There's a man who knows his duty to his family."

  Ignoring her gibe with the skill of long practice, he asked, "Did you ever meet a Lord Markland there?"

  "Oh, y
es, a charming man, though quite worthless. His estate was only a few miles from Milton Hall." She sniffed. "All he could manage to produce was a pair of twin daughters. After he died, the title went to an American cousin, so I expect it's effectively extinct. As I understand it, Americans don't hold with such things as titles."

  Before she could digress into the virtues of the hereditary aristocracy, Lucien said, "Tell me about the twin daughters. Did you ever meet them?"

  "Almost every time I visited the Miltons. They were a lovely pair of girls, Kristine and Kathryn, both with a K. The Traverses have always been known for having odd kicks in their gallops." She shook her head. "Markland neglected his daughters shamefully. Anne Milton was fond of the girls, so she did her best to teach them how to get on in society."

  "The twins were identical?"

  She nodded. "As like as two peas in a pod. I've never seen such a resemblance. For all the times I met them, I never could tell them apart. Very different temperaments, though. Lady Kristine was the older, and she was wild, like her father."

  The tea tray arrived and the countess poured for them. "Kristine's exploits were notorious throughout the county. Swimming naked in the river at midnight, climbing cliffs, wearing breeches to ride with the local hunt, arguing logic with the vicar until the poor man didn't know whether he was coming or going. She should have been a boy."

  That certainly explained where she had developed the skills for burglary and roof running. "What about Lady Kathryn?"

  "She took after her mother, a vicar's daughter, and was a very proper young lady. She was always trailing along behind her sister, trying to keep her out of trouble. A sweet child, but easy to overlook—Kristine did all the talking for both of them." Lady Steed lifted the silver tongs and dropped a chunk of sugar into her cup. "People made allowances for the girls because of the way they had been brought up. There was no real vice in them, but Kristine was definitely headed for trouble. Probably eloped with the first man who asked her, or went on the stage, or did something equally disreputable."