The Perfect Impostor

by Wendy Soliman

  “I assume there’s an innocent reason, like an affair, if you can call such a thing innocent. Since Dupont wasn’t expected, I suppose Julia thought the deception would work.”

  “Surely the impostor wouldn’t be prepared to give herself to Dupont? Even if she pleaded a headache, presumably he’d notice it wasn’t his own wife in his bed, even if he was in his cups.”

  “Exactly.” Leo threw his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So the stakes must be a lot higher than a mere affair.”

  “You think Lady Dupont is our thief?”

  “It looks that way, and what’s more, that maid of hers must be involved. Dupont’s coachmen might have been deceived but Celia has to be in on it.” Leo paused to assimilate his thoughts. “Look at the impatient way she handled the impostor during the dancing lesson. Any lady’s maid could confidently expect to be dismissed for such familiar behaviour.”

  “But, if Lady Dupont is the thief, surely she needs to be here.”

  “Exactly. There’s something not right about all this but until I get a response to that note, I’m damned if I know what it is.”

  “Right, I’ll be on my way then.” Boscombe paused with his hand on the door handle. “Anything you wish me to report to His Grace?”

  “No, I’ve explained everything in that note. Just get back as soon as you can tomorrow. Nothing will happen here until after the duchess arrives with her tiara. In the meantime, I shall keep a weather eye on the impostor.”

  Boscombe chuckled. “I dare say you can be trusted not to muck that up.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Celia was a hard taskmaster. As soon as luncheon was over she all but ordered Katrina to return to her chamber so they could continue with their lesson.

  “We won’t be able to string many steps together in such a confined space,” she told Katrina, moving aside the furniture in the sitting room, “but at least we’ll be able to work on the rise-and-fall action. And we can attempt some of the turns we were unable to tackle in that field.”

  Katrina sighed. “Very well.”

  She was tired, a tense headache pounding at her skull. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep until all her problems went away. Oh, and if she could forget all about Leo Kincade’s somnolent smile, his coercive charm and blistering gaze, that would make her feel more in control too. His incendiary kiss still scorched her lips, constantly dragging her mind back to the episode in the garden when she had more urgent matters to consider.

  Like what to do about tomorrow’s ball. Now that she’d attempted a few waltz steps, she still had grave reservations about attending, more convinced than ever that she would never pass muster. Celia took every opportunity to remind her that she owed it to Julia to master the infuriating dance. But the way things were going, even the tenacious Celia would soon see that it was hopeless. Being so clumsy wasn’t such a bad thing, Katrina decided, since that unfortunate circumstance would enable her to slip away in the morning with a clear conscience.

  “Come along, ma’am.” Celia tutted when Katrina moved the wrong foot yet again, almost bringing them both to the ground. “You’re not concentrating.”

  “Enough!” Something inside Katrina snapped. “We’ve been at it for more than an hour and I’m exhausted. I must go down to the terrace and take tea with the other ladies. It will seem strange if I don’t appear. And,” she added, waving a hand to prevent Celia from interrupting her, “after that I intend to have a bath and a long rest.”

  Celia pursed her lips but had the good sense not to pursue the matter. “Very well, ma’am,” she said peevishly. “But we ought to make an early start on your next lesson tomorrow. You have so much still to learn. With all the preparations for the ball, no one is likely to miss you and we’ll be able to make some headway.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Celia shot her a sharp look. “Surely you are not still intending to give up? You almost have it.”

  “Your anxiety for your mistress does you credit,” Katrina said firmly, rather enjoying exerting herself. She’d had enough of being bullied, cajoled, cross-questioned. And kissed. “But surely you can see how hopeless it is.”

  “Nonsense, milady, we can easily—”

  “Now then, I think the blue-striped Indian muslin for this afternoon.” Katrina’s tone made it clear that the discussion was over. “And tonight, for the ridotto, the cream rep-sarcenet might best keep the chill out.”

  “The gown that looks as though it’s made from milky velvet, trimmed with gold braid?”

  Celia knew very well what rep-sarcenet was—she would be a sorry excuse for a lady’s maid if she didn’t—but was being deliberately obtuse because Katrina had stood up for herself. She was too tired to care about her maid’s fit of pique and merely nodded, endeavouring to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that she was being manipulated by an expert hand. Well, two experts actually. Celia was acting on Julia’s specific orders, and whatever Julia was up to, it was apparently essential for its success that Katrina remain here posing as her friend for the duration of the party.

  She had assumed that Julia was involved in an extramarital affair. She was no longer quite so sure. There was just something about the whole business that set warning bells jangling inside her head. She needed to be on her guard. But against what precisely? It was little wonder that she had a headache.

  A short time later Katrina joined the ladies, all of whom expressed their excitement at the prospect of the forthcoming ball.

  “I do believe Lord Kincade has taken a shine to my Isabel,” Lady Ainsworth confided in an aside to Katrina, loud enough for the entire company to hear.

  “Really?” Katrina’s surprise wasn’t feigned. When Isabel Ainsworth had crossed their path earlier, clad in her unflattering gown, Leo had barely spared her a glance.

  “Oh yes, this morning he spent a deal of time explaining to her exactly how to draw a bow. None of the other young ladies commanded nearly so much of his attention.”

  “Perhaps because they were better shots,” muttered Emily Nugent sulkily.

  “Lord Kincade insisted upon remaining beside Isabel until she hit the target,” Lady Ainsworth trumpeted, sounding as though she was desperately trying to convince herself. “And tomorrow I dare say he’ll spend half the evening dancing with her. What a shame she’s too young to waltz.”

  “We’re in the country here,” Katrina said, “and the rules are not so strenuously enforced. After all, it’s hardly Almack’s.”

  “Ah, that’s true. Thank you, Lady Dupont. I shall make Isabel aware that should Lord Kincade request her hand for a waltz then she has my leave to accept.”

  Katrina turned away to hide her smile. Fending off Isabel Ainsworth would ensure that Leo Kincade’s attention wasn’t focused on her. If she attended, that is, which was still far from certain.

  “It’s all a lot of rot,” Lady Ainsworth said to her in an undertone.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “About Kincade and my Isabel, of course. I merely said it to annoy Mrs. Nugent. She has expectations in that quarter with regard to her mousy daughter. She doesn’t stand a chance but I do so enjoy causing trouble.”

  Katrina smiled, rather enjoying her irreverent company. “Yes, so I apprehend.”

  “It will be quite a crush,” Lady Marshall said, beaming at Katrina as she fed sweetmeats to her pug dogs. “I didn’t expect everyone we invited to come but it appears they’ve heard about the auction and your volunteering to waltz with the highest bidder, dear Lady Dupont. Everyone is most anxious to see how much the gentlemen will be prepared to pay for the privilege.”

  Katrina’s heart sank. She had no idea that the novel auction prize had garnered quite so much interest. Indeed she failed to understand how anyone outside of the house party could be aware of it. But it seemed they were, and given that the auction was in such a good cause how, in all conscience, could she walk away now?

  “Disappointingly
little, I dare say,” Katrina said flippantly. “When it comes to opening their purse strings, even for worthy causes such as this one, gentlemen are apt to display parsimonious tendencies.”

  “You’ve sold yourself before then, have you?” Mrs. Nugent asked.

  “No, Mrs. Nugent,” Katrina responded with the sweetest of smiles. “But should the occasion arise, no doubt you will be able to advise me on the matter, what with your husband’s success in the business world.” She silently congratulated herself on such a Julia-like setdown.

  “Oh, I’m terribly sorry.” Mrs. Nugent’s hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

  “The jealous little witch!” Lady Ainsworth hardly bothered to lower her voice as she addressed Katrina. “Such airs!”

  “Why is she so unpleasant to me?” Katrina had been anxious to ingratiate herself with everyone at the party but Mrs. Nugent took constant jibes at her. Alienating the most senior lady present hardly seemed the best way to achieve her ambitions.

  Lady Ainsworth merely smiled. “I told you, she has set her sights on Kincade for her daughter.”

  “Yes, but what’s that to me?”

  “My dear, don’t pretend you don’t know, for I shall refuse to believe you.”

  “No, really, I—”

  “Did your husband tell you that he’s agreed to match the amount the winning gentleman pays to dance with you?” Lady Marshall asked Katrina.

  “No, ma’am, he must have forgotten to mention it.”

  But it certainly explained how word had spread. Katrina felt the colour drain from her face as the impossibility of her situation struck home. Dupont would not have hesitated to relate the story at Court. It was just the sort of announcement he would enjoy making, amusing the prince and showing himself in a philanthropic light.

  By making the event public knowledge, he had turned her into a cause célèbre, trapping her in an impossible situation. She was now the principal attraction at a ball that would doubtless be talked about for years to come. Walking out would cause more problems for Julia than brazening the thing through. Oh lord, what a mess! Perhaps she could somehow contrive to break an ankle. She couldn’t see any other way out. If she left unexpectedly, what with all the interest her presence had created, word would reach the marquess before she’d travelled five miles.

  “Perhaps he intended it as a surprise. Allowing you to dance a waltz with the highest bidder when he’s not even here to protect your interests shows great generosity of spirit. And then to match that bid in aid of our brave soldiers…well, it’s not something you hear about every day. It’s bound to create a stir.” Lady Marshall reached across and patted Katrina’s hand, almost tipping one of her dogs off her lap in the process. “You’ll be the making of my ball, m’dear.”

  But not for the reasons you suppose, dear Lady Marshall.

  “I wonder how much you will raise.”

  Katrina didn’t need to turn her head to know who’d whispered the words softly enough so that only she could hear them. His breath agitated the sensitive spot beneath her left ear, sending waves of awareness ricocheting down her spine.

  “Disappointingly little, I dare say,” she snapped, pretending not to understand the deliberate double entendre, even though Julia would have played up to it. “I really don’t see why so much fuss is being made over a silly dance.”

  “You disappoint me, Julia,” he purred. “That’s not like you at all. Where’s your patriotic spirit? It’s all for a good cause and, even if it were not, it will give you an opportunity to take centre stage.” The caustic, taunting Lord Kincade was back and Katrina didn’t know whether to feel relieved or regretful. “Parsons is running a book, you know. He’s taking bets on who will stump up the most for the privilege of holding you in his arms.”

  “If you expect me to ask who’s in the lead then I fear you’re bound for disappointment, my lord.” She twirled her parasol over her shoulder, blocking his sardonic expression from view and almost taking his eye out with one of the spokes. “It matters little to me who’s foolish enough to part with his blunt. I just want the whole thing over with.”

  “I think you must be sickening for something.” He looked suitably concerned. “That’s not at all the response I expected. Either you’re unwell or marriage has quelled your adventurous spirit.”

  Katrina stood up. Her head was pounding again and she could take no more. Bobbing a brief curtsey in Lady Marshall’s direction she headed towards the house. But Leo Kincade clearly hadn’t finished amusing himself at her expense and easily kept pace with her.

  “Lord Erith is odds-on to win,” he said amiably. “Rumour has it that he didn’t intend to be here until he heard about the auction. Being your husband’s archrival at Court, I suppose he couldn’t resist this opportunity to annoy him.”

  Katrina didn’t have a notion who he was talking about. Presumably she was supposed to dislike this Lord Erith and so made do with pulling a face.

  “Of course, the old blighter is the most dreadful letch and also has terrible gout, so don’t expect him to lead. You’d be much better advised to concentrate your efforts on avoiding his wandering hands. To the best of my knowledge they aren’t suffering from any affliction that will prevent him from taking atrocious liberties.”

  Katrina stopped walking and turned to glare at him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Immensely.”

  She shot him a look that could freeze stone but it bounced harmlessly off his disgustingly self-assured expression. “I’m glad someone is.”

  “If the idea of exhibiting yourself is so distasteful you could always contrive to turn an ankle,” he suggested, a mocking smile playing about his lips. “Although I own that would be a pity. I recall that you have a very delicate, shapely ankle. It would be a shame to damage it simply to avoid Lord Erith’s clutches.”

  Damn his eyes, how had he known she’d been considering just such a course of action? He appeared to be intimately acquainted with Julia’s ankles. What other parts of her body were familiar territory?

  “So you think me a coward,” she said, attempting to replicate the teasing tone she was sure Julia would have employed in such a situation. “Add that to all the other reasons you have to hold me in low esteem and there will be little left to admire.”

  “Oh, I dare say I shall think of something.”

  A cool hand reached up and gently traced the line of her cheek, scorching her skin with a featherlight touch. One finger ran along the edge of her lips, forcing its way between them in an overtly suggestive manner. It was all she could do to prevent herself from drawing that long, capable finger into her mouth and sucking the life out of it. Much as, God help her, she would like him to suck her most intimate places until she melted into submission.

  A fire burned in his eyes, almost as though he was waging a war with himself and coming out on the losing side. She endeavoured to turn her head away but something stronger than her own will kept her eyes focused on the frustrated passion that fuelled his expression. His eyes turned as black as obsidian as he continued to hold her gaze, and it felt like a lifetime suspended in a moment before he dropped his hand from her face.

  “You are many things, Julia,” he said softly, “but I have never once doubted your courage.”

  His eyes were still fixed on her face, the reluctant admiration in his expression reminding her of the way he’d regarded her immediately before he kissed her. His look was a tender caress that caused something unfamiliar to stir deep within her core and tug at her heart. The vision of them locked together in a passionate embrace drugged her mind but she ruthlessly tamped down the emotion it engendered. It addled her brain, kicked aside all vestiges of common sense and made her seriously consider confiding in him. If anyone could help her out of this farrago it would be him.

  Katrina opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. This man was not to be trusted. He was dangerous. Yes, definitely dangerous but so compelling that simply looki
ng at him made her go weak at the knees.

  “Perhaps marriage has changed me,” she said, striving for a flippant tone.

  He chuckled. “I doubt that very much.”

  “Then perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  “You’ve got what you’ve always wanted,” he said provocatively, all signs of the passionate struggle she thought she’d detected now absent from his expression. “Everyone who matters will be talking about you for weeks. Why such false modesty?”

  She snapped the head off a flower that had the misfortune to be growing in a tub close at hand and brutally shredded it. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Evidently not.”

  She reached for another flower but he guided her away from the tub before she could completely decimate the display.

  “Lady Marshall has a most lavish firework display planned for midnight. It was to be the highlight of the ball but I believe that speculation about your part in the auction has eclipsed even the prospect of that spectacle. People are talking about nothing else.” He tilted his head and regarded her with an air of cynical detachment. “Congratulations, my dear. You’ll be a sensation.”

  And he walked away and left her.

  Unsure what to make of his attitude, one minute passionately intimate, the next distant and remote, Katrina headed for her room and the longed-for bath. When Celia left her to rest, the sleep she so craved eluded her. Instead she lay, wide awake, staring up at the bed’s canopy, trying to come to a decision. But as with everything else she had attempted recently, she singularly failed in that regard too.

  Images of Leo Kincade’s multifaceted attitude refused to leave her head. She wished she knew what to make of him. What had passed between him and Julia to set them so at odds with one another? Inexperienced in matters of the heart, Katrina sensed that Leo had good reason to resent Julia. If she’d jilted him, that was hardly surprising. But in spite of that, he appeared to be having a difficult time denying that he was still attracted to her. Why else would he have kissed her? It was an impulsive gesture that he clearly now regretted, which would explain his current provocative mood. He could sense that she had no appetite for the waltz and was enjoying adding to her discomfort by constantly alluding to the matter.