The Perfect Impostor
Page 27
“Does anyone know you’re back?”
“No.”
“Well, there you are then.” She described how she’d elicited a servant’s confession. The relief he felt was palpable. As was his admiration.
“I think Amos must have left that cupboard and gone after James,” she said. “If you could get him to admit that, then it might ease the guilt Millie and Peter feel.”
“I shall get Richard to question him on the matter.”
“Thank you. I feel responsible, you see.”
Tears were streaming down her face. He immediately got to his feet, offering her solace and a handkerchief simultaneously.
“I thought you’d be relieved it’s all over,” he said.
“I am. These are tears of joy,” she spluttered, mopping them up as best she could. “I can’t believe I no longer have to fear him.”
“Well you don’t,” he said softly. “No one can harm you now.”
The soft light of gratitude shining through her brittle tears was his undoing. With a strangled oath he was upon her again. He pinned her beneath him on the bed, mindless of the protests from his injured thigh, and bent his head to kiss her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, turning her face away.
“Claiming my reward.”
“Your reward? Why should you be entitled to any reward?” She scowled but there was no venom behind the gesture. “You didn’t trust me.”
“No, I didn’t.” He grasped her chin and turned her face until she was obliged to look directly at him. “But not for one moment did I suspect you of murder.”
“I can hardly blame you if you did. I mean, the evidence was rather overwhelming.”
“Damn the evidence! I already knew you better than that.”
“And yet, before you went careering off after criminals, you couldn’t look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t think I’d done it. What sort of trust does that imply?”
“Katrina, if I’d looked at you at that precise moment, when you were so vulnerable, so in need of my protection, I wouldn’t have been able to prevent myself from doing this.”
“What?” Her voice quavered.
He claimed her lips in a possessive kiss that spoke more eloquently than a thousand words. Her attempts to defuse it were brief and, he was encouraged to note, halfhearted. Soon she was kissing him back with a passion at least as desperate as his own. He crushed her lips quite mercilessly, pouring into that kiss every ounce of relief he felt at the way matters had resolved themselves. He forced her lips apart with his tongue, demanding her complete and absolute capitulation. There was little finesse in his action, just fierce determination to show her how comprehensively he loved her.
When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily. It would be so easy to rip that flimsy robe from her. To lose himself in her profound sensuality.
But words must come first.
“You are now free to pursue your career,” he said, finally turning on his back to ease the strain on his injury and running a finger idly down the outside of her breast. “And the ladies from this party will be falling over themselves to acquire your services.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Oh, I’m sure it could happen that way. But it won’t.”
“What do you mean? You just said that it would.” She leaned up on one elbow, disappointment and frustration clouding her expression. “They don’t like my designs enough to overlook my humble establishment, I suppose.”
“No, that’s not what I mean at all.”
“Then what?”
“They won’t be able to call on you because, my lovely Tethys, you won’t be at leisure to receive them.”
“Leo, what in the world are you talking about?” She brushed his cheek with a frustrated hand. “I believe that scratch on your thigh has addled your wits.”
“My wits have never been more finely attuned, I thank you.”
“Then what? I don’t—”
“You, my angel, won’t be able to oblige your new patrons because you will be at my estate in Berkshire.”
She elevated a brow. “I will?”
“Most assuredly.”
“Do you require the services of a modiste?”
He chuckled. “I most certainly require your exclusive services.” He paused to brush a strand of hair away from her eyes. “As my wife.”
She sat up so abruptly that her elbow caught him a painful blow on the chest. “Your wife! Are you mad?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“I think you must be.” She gulped. “Leo, use your sense, I couldn’t possibly marry you.”
“Why ever not?”
“Oh, for goodness sake! I’m a modiste. A widow with a questionable past. You’re the brother of a duke. These things just don’t happen.”
He shrugged. “I fail to see why.”
“I know what it is,” she said pensively. “I look so much like Julia that you’re prepared to settle for second best.”
“Don’t you dare to say such things!”
“Why not? It’s true. She told me all about it.”
Leo made a scoffing sound at the back of his throat. “I’d started to see glimpses of the real Julia before I went away and knew I didn’t want to marry her—”
“And yet you let people believe that you’d jilted her?”
“It seemed easier. It’s different for a man.”
“It was still a noble thing to do.”
“You’re noble too. Forgiving her so easily after all she put you through. And I’m still not persuaded that she told you the truth. Italian lessons indeed! Julia?”
“Oh, it’s true. When I couldn’t sleep after going to the servants’ hall, she woke up and showed off her new skills by conjugating Italian verbs. Aloud.” Katrina rolled her eyes. “I drifted off almost at once.”
Leo chuckled. “It sounds to me as though Dupont’s got his hands full.”
“You don’t have to behave so nobly towards me,” she said, an encouraging trace of regret in her tone. “You have nothing to reproach yourself for.”
“I don’t give a damn about nobility, Katrina. I just want you for my wife.”
“And I think I’ve reasoned out why. Julia sent Gower here to pursue me and you want to best him after he attempted to steal Julia from you.” Her smile was loaded with resentment. “There, you see, you can’t hide anything from me.”
“That’s rot.” He turned to one side, leaning up on an elbow. “And to answer your earlier question, my wanting to marry you has nothing to do with your resemblance to Julia.”
“Then why?”
“I want you because you’re so uniquely yourself.”
There were tears in her eyes. “Even so, I can’t turn you into a laughingstock.”
“You think I care about other people’s opinions?”
“It would be like history repeating itself. First my mother falling for the lord of the manor and now me.”
“Ah, so you have fallen for me then.” He traced the line of her lips with his forefinger, daring to hope.
“I suppose you have a certain puerile charm,” she said, curling a lock of his hair round her finger and tugging at it. “But it won’t serve.”
“You could, even now, be carrying my child,” he said, placing a hand protectively over her abdomen. “Have you considered that possibility?”
“Then I really would be following in my mother’s footsteps.”
“Katrina,” he said with a heavy sigh. “This is not the same at all. I’m independently wealthy and not reliant upon anyone’s permission to marry. I want you and won’t settle for less.”
“But what about what I want?”
“What do you want?”
“It’s funny, Julia reminded me earlier about our governess asking us the same question.”
“And how did you respond?”
“Julia said she wanted a gentleman with the grandest title and biggest fortune she could find.”
Leo rolled his eyes. “And what about you?”
“My ambitions were not quite so lofty. I said that I very much desired a man who would love me for the person I actually am.”
“You’re quite wrong, Tethys,” he said softly. “That’s not a modest ambition at all. It’s the most precious, the most sought-after desire on God’s earth. Only the lucky few ever get to experience such an all-encompassing love.”
“Yes,” she said, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “And do you know, I think I just might turn out to be one of them.”
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About the Author
Wendy Soliman grew up on the Isle of Wight, in southern England. She blames the castles, fabulous old buildings and ancient monuments that surrounded her for her enduring love of history. She started writing stories at an early age and basically never stopped.
Wendy now lives in Andorra, dividing her time between there and the west coast of Florida. She lives with her husband and a rescued dog of indeterminate pedigree. When not writing she enjoys reading other people’s books, walking miles with her dog, drinking decent wine and generally making the most out of life.
Visit her website at www.wendysoliman.com for more details about her and her books.
Also by Wendy Soliman from Carina Press:
Of Dukes and Deceptions
A Scandalous Proposition
Writing as W. Soliman:
Unfinished Business
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-9354-4
Copyright © 2012 by Wendy Soliman
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