The Perfect Impostor

by Wendy Soliman

  He had proved his point.

  “I thought so,” he said smugly.

  “You really do take the most shocking liberties.”

  “Then cry out for assistance. Any number of the gentlemen here will be pleased to come to your aid.” He smiled at her. “Especially Gower. We don’t like one another, as you well know, and it’s all your fault. He would love to show himself off in a heroic light at my expense.”

  “Humph, I wouldn’t give you that satisfaction.”

  “I think you could give me a very great deal of satisfaction,” he said softly. “But I won’t put you in that position.” He paused significantly. “For the moment.”

  He grasped her arm lightly as he spoke, his fingers touching the bare flesh above her elbow-length glove. She winced. Leo wasn’t holding her tightly enough to cause her any pain but he immediately released her, glancing at her arm to see if he could detect the cause of her discomfort. A circle of purple bruises ringed the fleshy part of her upper arm. He scowled.

  “Dupont did that to you?” he asked, running his finger gently over the affected area.

  She turned away and didn’t answer him.

  “Julia?” He touched her shoulder and gently turned her towards him again. “Where else are you hurt?”

  “He doesn’t know his own strength sometimes,” she said, still not looking at him.

  Leo was momentarily lost for words. “Can it really be worth it?” he asked quietly.

  “He’s always sorry afterwards.” She lifted her shoulders. “Besides, what can I do about it?”

  What indeed? Dupont had clearly used this woman in a brutish fashion, believing her to be his wife. How could he not tell the difference, even in an advanced state of inebriation? If he treated Julia thus, it reinforced his belief that she had good reason to be involved in criminal acts. But why had the impostor allowed herself to be violated? What hold did Julia have over her that would persuade her to endure such abuse? Just thinking about it filled Leo with an uncontrollable rage.

  Keeping his thoughts to himself, he reclaimed her hand and they returned to the main walkway. They strolled back to the terrace with a respectable amount of space separating them. Once immersed in the throng he found her a glass of champagne and abruptly excused himself, needing time to think. But solitude was impossible at such a gathering. Gower bore down on him, a noxious smile twisting his lips.

  “See you’re staking your claim already.” He nodded towards Julia, now surrounded by a throng of people.

  “Hardly. The lady’s married.”

  Gower produced a handsome enamelled snuff box, offered it to Leo, who declined, and took a pinch himself. “Since when did that stop you?” he asked in a goading tone.

  “I was thinking more about you,” Leo said languidly. “If you’re still as anxious to ingratiate yourself with the Prince Regent, seducing the wife of his favourite equerry isn’t the best way to go about it.”

  “It would only be a problem if he were to find out. And who would tell him?” Gower grinned, a flash of the puerile charm that so entranced the ladies evidenced in his expression. “Julia enjoys my society and I dare say the gloss of her elevated status has worn off by now.”

  “If that’s what you think, why bother to discuss it with me? Julia’s the person you should be seeking out.”

  “Oh, I shall, have no fears on that score.” Gower sounded supremely confident in his ability to succeed. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a prior claim.”

  Leo quirked a brow. “Because you’re not confident the lady will prefer you over me?”

  “Oh, I think we established the answer to that some time ago.” Gower couldn’t resist gloating. “But times change and I’ve never been one to queue, or deliberately queer another man’s patch.”

  Leo fell back on his skills as a diplomat and adopted a mien as casual as Gower’s. The two men had once been close, coming from similar backgrounds and being the same age. They had been at Eton together and afterwards at Cambridge. Then things started to go wrong. Both wished for situations in the Diplomatic Service but Gower didn’t have the wit or discipline to excel in that profession. In spite of his powerful connections he was refused a position by Leo’s brother and didn’t take the rejection well. Disgruntled, he fell back on his good looks and launched himself on society, bent on revenge. He made a point of seducing other men’s wives, especially those who played a part in killing off his career expectations, however extraneously.

  Leo knew him for what he was. An indolent wastrel with a grudge to bear. He was a gamester to boot and had run through his fortune, depending upon his rich lady friends to bail him out of difficulties. That he’d targeted Julia in order to drive a wedge between her and Leo was one thing. Leo had long since recovered from that disappointment. A part of him was even grateful to Gower for exposing her true character. But to see him attempt something similar with the impostor was entirely another. She wouldn’t realise what was happening until it was too late to prevent a scandal.

  Leo simply wouldn’t allow it to happen.

  “By all means go ahead, Gower,” he said insouciantly. “Julia is of no interest to me. I was thinking only of your own situation, and the position at Court you’re so anxious to procure. Personally, I have other interests.” His gaze drifted towards Mrs. Nugent. When she turned towards him, he raised his hand in greeting.

  “Who’s that?”

  Gower’s interest was instantly piqued. Mrs. Nugent, in deep pink silk, was aiding Leo’s cause by looking particularly alluring. “Have you not met Mrs. Nugent yet?”

  “Never met her and never heard of her. She tried to approach me just now but Lady Marshall steered her away before we could be introduced.”

  “Probably didn’t want to offend you. Her husband’s in trade, you see.”

  “Trade.” Gower looked as though he’d just detected a particularly unpleasant odour. “Then what the devil is she doing here?”

  “Nugent is very comfortably situated. If even half of what I hear is to be believed, he’s allowing himself to be gulled by all and sundry in order to gain acceptance into society.”

  “Hmm.” Gower’s eyes were focused speculatively upon Mrs. Nugent. “Her husband isn’t here?”

  “No, but he’s expected tomorrow. He’s negotiating some contract up in town. Something to do with wheat, I believe she said.”

  “And leaving his lovely wife all alone.”

  “She isn’t alone, Gower,” Leo said, steel in his tone. “I’m here.”

  “So you are, Kincade, so you are.” He paused to flash a challenging grin Leo’s way. “But then so am I. And since we’ve decided that she’s not really a lady, the usual rules don’t apply. It’s every man for himself. I wonder which of us she’ll choose. Care to have a pony on it?”

  Leo merely shrugged and made no reply. Gower, chuckling, sauntered off to do his worst.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Katrina made a conscious effort not to follow Leo Kincade with her eyes as he walked away. Not even to admire the view. There was no need. She was already well acquainted with the breadth of his shoulders and simply would not give in to the growing temptation to lean on them. She quelled her dissatisfaction at having been so summarily abandoned with a dismissive toss of her head, even though she ought to be grateful to him. Leo clearly understood what she’d temporarily forgotten—they’d already spent longer alone together than politeness dictated. Her fellow guests would draw inappropriate conclusions. Lady Ainsworth had already made her suspicions plain. All the same, his desire to be rid of her was insulting and she was completely out of charity with him.

  She was surrounded now by a group of people, some of whom were new to her, all of whom appeared anxious to engage her attention. But she was getting accustomed to that. Being a marchioness with a husband who held the prince’s ear made her a target for all manner of favour seekers. As introductions were made, she attempted to remember the people’s names, wondering if she was
supposed to know any of them. Why hadn’t she thought to ask Celia who was expected this evening? Not that it was likely to have made much difference. Since the episode with Lord Kincade, her concentration was shot to pieces, and she didn’t seem to be able to absorb one word in ten that was spoken to her. Tellingly, even some of the compliments directed towards her gown by other ladies failed to hold her attention.

  Instead her mind was drugged by recollections of Leo Kincade’s audacious kiss and her feeble attempts to rebuff it. He knew she wasn’t really objecting. Of course he did. A man with his level of experience couldn’t fail to read the signs. The moment she melted against him, as a force stronger than her own will stirred long-dormant emotions deep within her, he would have sensed victory. Once assured of her capitulation, he broke it off, just to torment her. It was too embarrassing for words. Infuriating man! Something about his attitude led her to suppose that he was testing her in some way. Settling old scores, perhaps. Making a point.

  Her head spun as conflicting emotions assailed her from all angles. She made a valiant attempt to banish all thoughts of the dratted man but selfish longings swamped her reason, making that impossible. In her current state of agitation it was beyond her ability to decide what motivated Leo Kincade. Why it was that he seemed both distant and possessive in turn.

  Nor did she comprehend why he’d seen fit to warn her against Lord Gower. What was Julia’s connection with that gentleman? Damnation, Celia should have put aside her fixation with waltzing for long enough to prepare her better! Had that oversight been deliberate?

  The question forming in her mind about Celia’s priorities finally tore her mind away from Lord Kincade. She’d thought Celia was fiercely loyal to Julia, but now had niggling doubts about her constancy.

  Katrina was so distracted that she hadn’t noticed Lord Gower bearing down on her, a teasing smile playing about his lips. She was in no state of mind to cope with him but was trapped amongst the throng gathered on the terrace. She had no option but to stand her ground and try to discover precisely what this latest tormentor expected from her. He was attractive, and she could see she wasn’t alone in that opinion since several female heads turned to follow his progress across the terrace. He was quite Lord Kincade’s equal in terms of physicality and rugged good looks. But something about his attitude, his indolent manner of passing people by as though they were beneath his notice, didn’t sit comfortably with her. She suspected he and Julia had some sort of amorous history. Without the marquess in attendance, would he seek to initiate intimacies?

  Katrina panicked. She could detect from the confidence in his expression that he felt assured of a warm welcome. She frantically turned towards the gentleman standing next to her, whose name she’d already forgotten but whom she understood to be from Scotland. She asked him the first question that came into her head, focusing all her attention upon him in an effort to make it appear as though they were engaged in animated conversation.

  “Do you plan to remain in the south of England for long?” Katrina inwardly groaned at the inane nature of her question. Julia would have said something witty and charming but it was quite beyond Katrina to think of anything appropriate.

  “I have some engagements for the next month, Lady Dupont.” He appeared flattered that she’d chosen to notice him. “My wife and sons will join me after that time.”

  “You astonish me, sir.” Katrina tossed her head and forced out a peal of Julia-like laughter. “Your wife must be blessed with a very trusting nature to allow you out of her sight for so long.”

  “Well, er…”

  The poor man appeared baffled, as well he might. He had absolutely nothing to recommend him, and Katrina found it very difficult to imagine any woman being consumed with jealousy at his prolonged absence.

  “I have business with the government to transact.” He clasped his lapels as though he’d just confided some great secret of state. “I represent the interests of the Board of Manufacturers in the upper house.”

  “Oh, but has not Parliament risen for the summer?”

  The gentleman, whose name Katrina still couldn’t recall, bestowed a patronising smile upon her. “My dear Lady Dupont, I realise that ladies, very properly, have no heads for business. However, I should have thought that being married to the marquess you would know that any decisions of import are almost always negotiated outside of the house.”

  Katrina valiantly resisted the temptation to kick his ankle. The pompous windbag! But his attitude was a common one. Bitter experience had taught her that women who interested themselves in the business world were subjected to anything from derision and amused condescension to outright hostility. And if that failed to deter them, it wasn’t unknown for their efforts to be sabotaged. It was the duty of the fairer sex to be decorative, to run their homes, raise their families and occupy their minds with nothing more taxing than the latest fashions. Katrina quite agreed with that last requirement. But it still rankled that if a woman did chance to have a mind and opinions of her own, she was better advised to conceal the fact if she didn’t wish to be ostracised. “Yes, you’re certainly right about that. Like you, he’s a slave to duty and I barely see him.” Gower was getting closer. She bestowed a glittering smile upon her boring Scotsman. “Pray tell me, sir, what aspect of Scottish industry engages your interest?”

  “I suppose there’s no harm in your knowing,” he said, blossoming beneath her interest. “I am charged with negotiating more favourable terms for the manufacturers of linen in my country.”

  Linen. Thank goodness! Here was a subject that Katrina could speak about with authority. “How interesting, sir. I—”

  “Keeping Lady Dupont all to yourself, Dowling,” Lord Gower said as he strolled up to join them. “Can’t have that. Terribly bad form, don’t you know.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” Lord Dowling puffed out his chest as though he’d been accused of impropriety, his thin cheeks stained an unbecoming shade of red. “The lady was kind enough to—”

  “Lord Dowling and I were discussing Scotland.” Katrina attempted to defuse the situation but realised to her horror that Gower was in the right of it. The rest of the people in their group had drifted away. How long had she been alone with the Scotsman? Dowling seemed to realise it too, excused himself and walked away, leaving her alone with the one person she wished to avoid.

  “Julia.” He bowed over her hand and brushed his lips against her gloved knuckles, allowing them to linger.

  “Lord Gower.” She glanced over her shoulder at the terrace where people were drifting towards the tables. “We should join the rest of the party.”

  “I can recall a time when you were not quite so keen to be rid of my company,” he remarked, still keeping a firm hold on her hand.

  “And you were not always so obvious in your partiality.”

  He released her hand and bowed. “Touché.” Amusement flickered across his features as he placed her hand on his sleeve and steered her towards the rest of the company. “When can I see you?” he asked, dropping his voice to a seductive whisper.

  “You cannot.”

  “Don’t be so coy, Julia, it doesn’t become you. I’m only here because you told me you would be and—”

  God’s teeth, what game did Julia think she was playing? First her husband turning up unannounced and now this rake assuming she was his for the taking. He didn’t appear to be the sort of person who would give up easily. Nor did she have an unending supply of opiates. It was obvious that he didn’t take her rejection seriously and she had no notion how to handle the situation.

  “I don’t recall making any such promise,” she said airily. “Besides, my husband is liable to drop by at any time.”

  “No, he isn’t. He’s back in Brighton, boasting about his wife’s devotion and how delighted she was by his unexpected visit.”

  Katrina blushed but couldn’t think of an appropriate retort.

  “He is now fully engaged with the prince’s affair
s and won’t return here.”

  “Nevertheless, I—”

  “I made sure of that before setting out to join you.” His eyes burned with fervour and although he spoke casually she could tell he was implacably determined. “We are assured of privacy.”

  Katrina glanced at the throng. “Amongst this crowd.”

  “Losing oneself in a crowd is usually the surest way to guarantee it.”

  “Or invite ruin.” She stopped walking and turned to look at him. “I didn’t invite you here.” Well, that was true enough. “I have no interest in you.” Equally true. “And I would thank you to leave me alone.” Unquestionable.

  “You were interested enough before Kincade’s return,” he countered, a hard edge to his voice. “Is that where your preference now lies?”

  “Jealousy doesn’t become you, my lord.”

  “Jealousy be damned! I put myself to a deal of trouble getting here for this wretched thing. Don’t imagine I’d have bothered were it not for you.” He stared directly at her, the determination she could detect in his gaze making her knees quake. “You owe me.”

  “Nonsense!”

  “And you’ve changed,” he said, screwing up his eyes to examine her more closely. “There’s something different about you but I’m damned if I can put my finger on it.”

  “Just because I no longer find you charming, you place the blame at my door.”

  He chuckled. “Not yours. I suspect I know who’s turned your head.”

  “What do you mean?” Katrina knew she shouldn’t have shown an interest but the words slipped past her guard.

  “I’ve told Kincade I’ll give way for him, pretending an interest in the little hussy he has in his sights.”

  Katrina must have been staring blankly because he took great delight in speaking his next words.

  “Mrs. Nugent. Didn’t you know?” His twisted smile rendered him temporarily ugly. “Our friend has lowered his standards over the years. Still, if he thinks I want her, he’ll be too busy staking first claim to worry about you. Our path is clear.”