Dear Impostor

by Nicole Byrd

  They sat in silence as the vehicle moved down the long drive, then Psyche turned to gaze in inquiry at her companion. “Was it helpful, this visit?” she asked quietly.

  Touching the miniature, he did not pretend to misunderstand her. Indeed, some of the old bitterness, the long-standing anger, had ebbed. After they had made love, he had slept easily, and the dreams had not returned. He seemed to have turned a corner. He knew now that his mother had loved him. And to see his father as an adult was to see that he was not the all-powerful, all-knowing figure who had ruled Gabriel’s childhood with an iron hand. And if his father was fallible, after all, then his assessment of Gabriel might be similarly flawed.

  It was only because of Psyche that he had had the chance to understand these revelations, as startling as bolts from the heavens. Only because of Psyche had he returned to this house of painful memories, and because of Psyche, he now understood that he could be the man he chose to be, not the failure that his father had judged him, not a replica of his tyrant of a sire.

  “I think you have released me from a decades-old curse,” he told her.

  She looked startled, then her eyes cleared as understanding dawned. “I am glad, “ she said. “We must all come to terms with our parents, I suppose.”

  It was his turn to be surprised. “What, my jackass of a father has taught you something, too?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, thinking of the long silent dinner they had endured, the glares they had received from the Marquis when he deigned to look Gabriel’s way at all. “You were right in what you said last night. I have been angry at my parents for a long time, for risking themselves in such a foolhardy experiment, for dying, for leaving me to raise Circe by myself. But staying in that house reminded me of the years of love and laughter and good times I shared with them, and how fortunate I was to have parents who valued me, who encouraged me, who accepted me for everything that I was.”

  Her voice quivered, and she had to swallow hard. Gabriel saw that her eyes gleamed with tears, and she blinked them back. “I still miss them; I always will. But I will also remember to be thankful for every day we had together.”

  He took her hands and held them close within his own; he wanted desperately to lighten the sadness that shadowed her face and to protect her from any further grief. It pained him more than he could say to think that he might cause her unhappiness if he left. But he also knew that he could do her more harm by staying.

  Soon enough, he would be gone, back to foreign lands and high-stakes card games which might someday allow him new entry into the kind of life that Psyche deserved. He thought he had found his chance, with Barrett’s property, but he had been misled. Gabriel knew that he must leave–he would never cheat Psyche of what she so rightfully deserved. Nor could he expect a woman like Psyche to wait for the years it might take him to retrieve his fortune. But what they had had was so precious, their stolen lovemaking so intense, so overpowering, that he would cherish it all his life.

  No, despite the beginnings of new understanding, he could offer her too little. And face the truth–even if he had money, had property, he was still not the man for Psyche, not the kind of sterling upright gentleman with an unblemished past whom Psyche deserved. For Psyche, the best would hardly be good enough, and he fell far short of that exemplary level.

  Sighing, he looked outside the carriage. They had made the main road and had turned north toward London. Within a few hours, they would be back in the city, and he would have to come up with a way to dispose of Barrett once and for all, convince the old villain to call off his hired gang and settle this man to man. Unfortunately, he had not the glimmer of an idea how this was to be accomplished. But he must think of something!

  “Gabriel!” Psyche exclaimed.

  A moment later, he saw what had caused her cry, and he called to the coachman to pull up the team. When the carriage rolled to a stop, Gabriel opened the door and jumped out, and Psyche leaned her head outside the vehicle to see what was going on.

  The sight that had brought them to a halt was alarming enough. The sporty curricle that partially blocked the road had lost one of its wheels and now tilted at an alarming angle toward the ditch at the side. Two horses stood amid the tangled traces, one shaking its head, the other whinnying softly; the animals seemed unharmed. As for the solitary occupant–now, Gabriel understood Psyche’s perturbation.

  “Why, Cousin Percy,” Gabriel drawled. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  The rotund figure jumped up; Psyche’s relative had been sitting on the side of the road, perhaps contemplating his next move. “Cousin,” Percy exclaimed in relief, staring at Psyche and ignoring Gabriel’s comment. “I am relieved to see you well.”

  “I am quite well, thank you,” Psyche answered. “You, however, do not seem to be so lucky. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to assist you, of course. After you left town in such a precipitous fashion, I feared the worse!” Percy turned to glare at Gabriel, and his meaning was obvious.

  Psyche sighed. “No, I have not been abducted, Percy. And how did you manage to upset your curricle?”

  “It was not my fault,” Percy protested. “A rabbit jumped out of the hedgerow, and my near horse shied–it could have happened to anyone.”

  “No doubt,” Gabriel said, his tone dry. “And you didn’t even bother to bring a groom with you?” The groom’s seat on the skewed carriage was empty, as they could all see. “Or did you send him to get help?”

  “No, of course I came alone. I did not want to broadcast the news of my cousin’s sad disregard for the proprieties to the world! To go off alone with a man–” Percy’s face flushed, and he seemed prepared to prose on forever.

  “A man who happens to be my fiancé!” Psyche cut him off without ceremony. “Percy, neither my reputation nor my person needs your protection. You have no claim on me! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Until you wake from this sad infatuation, your comments are hardly to be trusted,” Percy said, his tone stiff.

  Psyche drew a deep breath, but Percy had turned to face Gabriel. “I should ask you to take me up to your estate, if you would, sir. I understand it is only a few miles from here.”

  Gabriel glanced at the man in surprise. It was true that the estate he had won from Barrett lay just ahead, but– “How did you know that?” he demanded, suspicion raising the hair along the back of his neck.

  “Aunt Sophia told me, after I demanded your destination,” Percy admitted, looking complacent. “I could hardly let Psyche go off like this without coming to protect her good name, if nothing else.”

  He must have hounded the poor woman unmercifully, and her aunt must have been distressed enough by their sudden flight to have let the information slip, Psyche thought. Poor Aunt Sophie!

  “My good name will be just fine, if you can keep your mouth shut,” Psyche told him. “And remember, any scandal touching me will also reflect on yourself, Percy. I know how strongly you and your father feel about family honor.”

  “Didn’t I just say that that is why I came?” Percy pulled himself up to his full height, bringing him almost to Gabriel’s shoulder. “And having come this far only to support you, Cousin, I think a little assistance on your part is not too much to ask.”

  Gabriel glanced at Psyche. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. I’m not refusing you hospitality, but the estate is in ruins; it has nothing to offer you. There is a small inn in the next village–”

  ”Do you think I could be seen in a public hostelry looking like this?” His tone outraged, Percy gestured to a small rip in his elegant sleeve and a slight sprinkling of dust on his pantaloons.

  “But Percy, the house is empty; there is no housekeeper to repair your coat or dust off your garments,” Psyche tried to help. “Truly–”

  ”I cannot believe you would refuse such a simple request!” Percy folded his arms, the picture of affronted obstinacy.

  “This is a waste of breath,”
Gabriel said. “He will not stop talking long enough to listen. Perhaps we should indeed stop at my–um–estate and show him its condition. We could at least leave his horses there till we can send someone from the village to reclaim them.”

  “Is it safe?” Psyche whispered.

  “I should think the ruffians would have given up by now; they have no reason to think we will return,” he pointed out.

  Psyche nodded. “Very well, Percy, We shall take you to Gabriel’s property, and then on to the village where you can see about getting your wheel repaired.”

  Above all, she did not want him sharing the chaise with them all the way back to London; the thought of listening to Percy prose on, full of recriminations for her unmaidenly conduct, was enough to make her shudder. And she and Gabriel had so little time left; she knew he was still thinking of moving on; she could tell from the occasional moments of quiet when he visibly withdrew into his thoughts, seemed even to forget her presence. No, they must get rid of her obnoxious cousin as soon as possible.

  Gabriel and their driver managed to extract Percy’s horses from the traces; one seemed whole, but the other limped badly; both were tied to the back of their carriage. Then Percy stepped into the chaise, taking the first seat where he fortunately faced the driver, with his back to Psyche and Gabriel, who remained in the rear seat. This did not keep Percy from looking over his shoulder and addressing them often, however. They had to go at a very slow pace because of the injured horse; Psyche was most glad to see the neglected driveway of Gabriel’s property soon come into view. The driver turned the team, and the carriage rolled along through the narrow driveway, pulling up in front of the house.

  It really had lovely lines, Psyche thought, imagining the house refurbished. If it were reclaimed from its neglect, it would be a most handsome dwelling. She lost herself in thoughts of new paint and wallpapers while the men got out of the carriage.

  “Cousin,” Percy called to her, holding out his hand to assist her.

  She had not meant to leave the carriage, knowing their stop was to be brief, but it was easier to get out than to argue with Percy. She took his hand as briefly as possible and stepped quickly down to the weedy gravel.

  “There, you see,” she told her cousin. “We have no staff here to make you comfortable. We will leave your team here and go on to the village. It is a small place, and no one will remark upon your torn coat.”

  Percy climbed the steps and peered inside the open doorway. “If that is the case, what were you doing here, Psyche? You did not stay here–alone–last night?” He sounded horrified.

  Psyche bit back a groan, and Gabriel frowned. “We did not stay the night here,” he said, his tone sharp. “We visited a relative of mine, and we were suitably chaperoned.”

  Well, as to that, Psyche bit back a grin, but she must not allow Percy to see her amusement. “Come along, Percy,” she said. Really, her cousin was too provoking. Now he had wandered into the house, as if searching for some evidence of a secret love nest. She walked after him, determined to get him back in the carriage and head to the village, so they could be rid of his irksome company as soon as possible.

  Gabriel was still frowning, something was not right. Why did Percy seem so determined to inspect Gabriel’s ruin of an estate? Was it just another bit of evidence to convince Psyche to give up her engagement to a man her cousin, with an unusual moment of perception, was convinced was a scoundrel? So be it; Gabriel knew that Percy, for all his inanities, was quite right about this judgment.

  What were they doing, lingering inside the moldy hall? “Psyche,” Gabriel called. “Are you ready to leave?”

  He heard her exclaim, then Percy mutter a soothing word. Gabriel headed quickly up the steps. More mice? He walked through the doorway into the dimness of the hall, and before his eyes could adjust, he felt strong hands grab him from behind.

  “Ah,” a familiar voice purred. “Just as I hoped. Welcome to my estate, Lord Impostor.”

  Chapter 22

  He was a fool, more than a fool.

  Gabriel felt the awareness of danger pour over him, bringing his muscles taut and his nerves on edge, but it was too late. Barrett stood with a small pistol pointed his way as one of Barrett’s hired killers pulled Gabriel’s arms together and tied his wrists with stout rope. Another ruffian held his hand over Psyche’s lips; behind his grimy fingers, her face was pale with shock and fear. Percy looked merely smug.

  Percy! Damn the coward, he had somehow joined with Barrett to lure them here. Damn himself for being lulled by Percy’s impotent idiocy into believing him harmless. If they lived through this–which was most doubtful–Gabriel swore to himself that he would have Percy’s head on a silver platter.

  Psyche bit the hand which had prevented her from giving Gabriel any warning. The man who held her swore and waved his injured finger in the air. Psyche stared at her cousin in disbelief. “Percy, who could you? How did you even know–”

  ”Barrett came to me, explained,” Percy said, his tone just as pompous as usual. “Since I wanted to rid you of your entanglement with this scoundrel, and since Barrett was able to tell me even more about his misdeeds–”

  ”Misdeeds?” Psyche’s voice trembled with outrage. “This man has tried to murder us more than once. Don’t talk to me about misdeeds! How could you strike a bargain with him, Percy?”

  “I wanted Tarrington out of the way,” Percy said simply. “I know it is a shock to your feminine sensibilities just now, Cousin, but in time you will come to see the wisdom of my actions, and you will thank me for it.”

  Did he really believe this claptrap? Psyche stared at her cousin with horror, not sure she had ever really seen him before. He met her gaze calmly, his self-satisfaction unblemished. But he had always been selfish, had always thought only of himself, his wishes, his desires, and never of hers. Why should this betrayal be such a surprise? Percy might be too squeamish to murder with his own hand, but if someone else would do it for him–

  “I will detest you for the rest of my life,” Psyche told him, steadying her voice with great effort. “No matter how long or how short that may be. And I will never, ever, consider marriage with you, not if I die a spinster ten times over.”

  Percy shrugged. “You will change your mind,” he said, his confidence undaunted. “Females do.”

  “Percy!” Psyche glared at him. “You have been duped.”

  He sniffed.

  “What makes you think you will be allowed to live long enough to pursue this noble plan?” Gabriel asked the other man, keeping his voice low. Barrett had crossed to the other side of the room and was conferring with his two hired killers. “You really think that Barrett will leave any witnesses alive after he has disposed of me?”

  Percy blinked; the idiot had apparently never considered this possibility.

  “He wouldn’t.” Percy’s smile faded just a little. “I agreed that I would say nothing–”

  ”And do you have any conception of the danger to which you have exposed Psyche?” Gabriel felt both disdain for Percy’s stupidity and fear for Psyche, and the fear threatened to slow his thoughts. No, he must not panic; he needed all his wits about him.

  Percy pursed his thick lips as if he mulled over Gabriel’s words. Psyche glanced toward Gabriel, looking anxious.

  “Do you see anything about with a sharp edge?” he whispered, testing the bonds that held his wrists immobile. The rope was new and stout, and he pulled against it without result. She glanced around the room, but only curls of dust and a few splinters of wood littered the floor, no handy knife revealed itself. The small dagger he had confiscated at the masquerade was tucked inside his coat, but he had no way to reach it, nor could Psyche, without the others seeing.

  Barrett was striding back to face them; he had sent one of the men out of the room, heaven knew for what ungodly purpose. Percy looked up. “I say, Barrett, I think I’ll just start back to London with Miss Hill,” he said, his tone almost normal. The doubts that Gabri
el had induced were beginning to work, but it was too late. Everything was too late.

  Gabriel felt his chest tighten with fear and building anger. How dare Barrett plot to harm the woman that Gabriel adored, the lady who had imbued him with the courage to love again. Whatever else happened, he had to see that Psyche emerged from this peril alive and unhurt. He struggled again against the ropes that held him; he thought that the knots slipped just a little, but not enough.

  Barrett glanced at him warily, then looked back to Percy. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the man said, his tone full of oily politeness.

  “Why not?” Percy was sweating now; droplets formed on his forehead, and his tone was not as sure.

  “Because I fear that the lady would never be silent; she has formed a tendre for this rascal, as women usually do for a pretty face. They seem reluctant to realize the true nature of a man’s worth.” Barrett lifted his sharp chin and stepped closer to Psyche.

  She shuddered. “I think I know your true worth,” she told him, her voice commendably steady.

  Sweet Psyche, who had the mettle of a lioness, Gabriel thought. He had let her down again by allowing Percy to lead them into this trap, and he would never forgive himself, for however many minutes he had left to live. He would deserve the deepest circle of hell for that foolish error alone.

  Barrett snorted. “I should like to take the time to teach you otherwise.” He leered at the smooth curves of her bosom. “Unfortunately, the longer we linger here, the greater the chance, however remote, that some passerby might notice that my hulk of an estate boasts occupants, and that is so unusual it might stir talk in the neighborhood. I fear we must dispose of these troublesome trespassers, and if a blaze should break out in an empty house, ah well, the evidence will soon be destroyed.” He turned his pistol toward Percy, who shrank back in alarm, and Psyche, who stood her ground, though her expression was somber.

  Gabriel felt himself go cold; he stopped his useless struggle against the ropes and prepared to launch himself toward Barrett. He knew that he could not reach the villain in time, but it might give Psyche a few moments to escape.