The Perfect Impostor (4 page)

Presumably because she knew Katrina would never have agreed to attend this one if she had.

“Lady Harley’s treasure hunt was certainly diverting,” Lady Ainsworth said.

“Indeed it was. I’ve never seen its like.” Well, that was true enough, Katrina thought, fanning herself and wondering what the devil else she could possibly say on the matter. “It was quite out of the ordinary.”

“As are you, Lady Dupont.” Lady Ainsworth tilted her head and regarded her closely. “You look altered. What can be so different about you, I wonder.”

“Oh, I have a new modiste. The most amazing creature. She has entirely altered my look.”

“Where is she to be found?” asked both ladies together.

Katrina told them.

“Such a humble address,” Lady Chester said doubtfully.

“But well worth the inconvenience. Besides, she will not be there for long. I intend to make her my protégée.”

“And start a fashion for veiled bonnets.” Lady Ainsworth’s eyes rested upon Katrina’s headwear. “How clever of you.”

“I was becoming too dull and needed to shake myself out of my usual routine.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done that. I hardly knew you.”

That was what worried her.

* * *

Amos’s patience had its limits. He’d been royally entertained in a tavern down by the docks this last sennight by a whore who could do astonishing things with her tongue. But even her company was starting to pall. Besides, she knew her worth and was severely depleting his already stretched funds. It was time for action. He’d been watching Katrina’s premises every day and there’d been no further appearances by her wealthy client. If fact, there’d been no clients at all. And no sign of Katrina.

But he knew she was in there. He’d seen her moving about and had also followed one of the girls who worked for her. She’d told the butcher that her mistress had a mind for mutton stew and he wasn’t to palm her off with no gristle, mind, or he’d have her to answer to. That had been two days ago and the time had come to act. He’d wait until dusk, though. Not that anyone around these parts would balk at seeing some woman being removed forcibly by a man claiming to be an enraged husband. Still, better to err on the side of caution.

Besides, there was the matter of the two girls who worked for Katrina to be taken into account. He’d toyed with the idea of seducing at least one of them and making an ally out of her, but he was in no mood for coaxing timid misses into spreading their legs. Now he regretted not acting. They were bound to kick up a racket. He’d have to overcome them, tie them up or something to give him time to get away. After that they could do what they liked.

To see his plan through he’d need a carriage. More blasted expense. He’d take Katrina to the tavern he’d been frequenting. He’d have her himself, multiple times and in ways she’d find as unpalatable as they were painful—nobody took a blind bit of notice of feminine screams at the Dog and Duck. Once he’d broken her spirit, let her know who was master, he’d set her to work with the rest of the whores. He liked that idea. It smacked of poetic justice.

Lost in pleasant reflection about the evening to come, it took him a moment to realise that a grand carriage—the same bloody carriage with the marquess’s crest on the doors—was making its way into Basing Lane. He swore violently. He should have thrown caution to the wind and made his move yesterday. The marchioness descended from the carriage and made for Katrina’s establishment, her eyes focused directly in front of her.

A short time later she reappeared. The footman assisted her into the vehicle and it moved away. Before Amos could decide what to do next, a smaller unmarked carriage pulled up and Katrina appeared in the doorway of her salon. She was wearing a cloak with the hood pulled over her hair, covering most of her face, but Amos would know that body anywhere. Feelings of sheer lust and fierce possessiveness ripped through him as she paused for a moment on the threshold. After a few seconds she stepped into the waiting conveyance and the coachman immediately moved his horses on. Off to an assignation with her lover, no doubt. Anger and unadulterated jealousy consumed Amos. He’d waited all this time only to see her go off with another man.

The streets were busy, the progress of the carriage slow. Amos followed on foot and was almost able to climb up behind but decided against it. He could hear voices from inside the conveyance. Katrina wasn’t alone and he’d give much to know who was with her. But he couldn’t risk taking a look. A footman was riding beside the coachman, and Amos’s presence would be noticed in an instant. He hadn’t exercised so much caution just to blow it all in a rush of blood to the head. He endeavoured to hail a hackney so he could follow Katrina and establish the name of her protector. Just his luck! Although Cheapside was usually alive with the damned things, when he needed one most, none was available.

All Amos could do was watch, boiling with rage, as the carriage gained the north road out of London and finally picked up speed.

Leo couldn’t abide the thought of an entire week at a house party, nor see the necessity for it, so he granted himself a two-day respite before setting out for Tunbridge Wells. Since he wasn’t supposed to be back in England, he was unable to risk being seen in public. But he was nothing if not resourceful and was sufficiently half-sprung on the morning of the third day to congratulate himself upon spending very little of the intervening time in pursuit of gainful occupation.

“Don’t get this at all,” Boscombe grumbled, seated beside Leo as he drove his curricle towards Tunbridge Wells. “If you ask me, it’s all a massive waste of time.”

“I dare say,” Leo agreed in a languid tone.

“Then why are we setting off on this wild goose chase?”

“Because the duke’s made up his mind that it’s worth looking into.” Leo sighed. “You know how he is when he gets an idea in his head. They’ll be no peace unless we do as we’re told.”

“But jewel thefts.” Boscombe’s aggrieved expression made his opinion on the subject plainly apparent. “Bah!”

“As you say, Boscombe, jewel thefts. It’s quite a departure from our usual activities, I grant you, but I dare say we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough.”

“So I should hope. Breaking up piddling little thieving rings is hardly in the same league as feeding false information to a known spy and bringing the French to sword at Salamanca.”

“That was one of our finer moments, I’ll grant you that.” Leo suppressed a smile. “It would seem that the passage of time has agitated your yen for excitement.”

“Perhaps.” Leo’s servant shrugged, as though risking his life in a daring effort to help bring about Wellington’s famous victory had been all in a day’s work. In many respects Leo supposed it was.

“Now we must face the more mundane. If the Home Secretary and the duke are concerned about these thefts, then we owe it to them to look into the matter with the same diligence we used to lure the French into our snare.”

Boscombe sniffed. “Suppose so.”

“The duke and I don’t altogether agree that servants can’t be involved,” Leo said pensively. “What’s to say one of them isn’t acting on his master’s or mistress’s orders?”

Boscombe frowned as he assessed the possibility. “A bit risky, if you ask me.”

“The whole thing’s insanely risky, that’s precisely my point. The thief must realise that it’s only a matter of time before a connection’s made between the robberies. He knows we’ll be waiting for him sooner or later, so why continue?”

“Perhaps I ain’t the only one yearning for excitement.”

“Napoleon might be short of blunt but there must be easier ways for his supporters to raise it. It doesn’t make sense to risk so much for such a comparatively small reward. There has to be more to it than that and I fully intend to find out what it is.”

“Oh, aye.” Boscombe rolled his eyes. “And there was me thinking Lady Dupont might have something to do with your determination to get involved.”

“Then you thought wrong,” Leo snapped.

“All right, there’s no need to get so defensive.” Boscombe threw a sideways glance at Leo, his expression speculative. “Seen her since she married the marquess, have you?”

“No.”

“Really, there’s no time like the present. If she’s already disenchanted with her new life then it would be an ideal opportunity for you to—”

“Leave it, Boscombe.” Leo’s tone was glacial.

“I’ll shut up but that don’t alter the fact that you won’t be able to help seeing her at this bean-feast.” Boscombe guffawed at Leo’s expression. “I hope she no longer interests you, ’cos you’re better off without her, m’lord. I told you that much when it all started going wrong.”

“I need you to work on the senior servants.” Leo’s change of subject was deliberate. He had no intention of discussing Julia Dupont with anyone. Not even Boscombe. “All the valets and ladies’ maids, especially those who attend the three ladies of interest to us.”

“What, all of them?” Boscombe pulled a face.

“I seem to recall that Lady Dupont has a very sprightly young thing looking after her.”

Boscombe brightened considerably. “Aye, well, there is that, I suppose.”

“And whilst you’re at it, don’t overlook their grooms. People tend to forget that they will have to be housed somewhere during the festivities.”

“Aye, but they’d be most likely put in the coach house. They’d stand out if they ventured into the house, especially above stairs, because they have no reason to be there.”

“Even so, Boscombe.”

“Fair enough.”

It was late afternoon when Leo turned the curricle into the pristine gravel driveway of Upton Manor. He set his pair of matching bays to a steady trot but it still took some time to reach the house itself. It was perched on a slight rise and commanded a fine vista over the surrounding countryside. Dawkins, the butler, knew Leo well and showed deferential pleasure at seeing him. He was too well trained to display any reaction at having an extra, unexpected guest to accommodate when the house was probably already full. He informed Leo that his master and mistress were taking tea with their guests on the terrace.

Only as he followed Dawkins in that direction did it occur to Leo that he could have timed his arrival better. Making his appearance when the entire company was assembled in one place wasn’t the best way to gauge their individual reactions to his unexpected presence. But there was no help for it, and he eyed the gathered throng with detached interest as he waited to be announced.

“Leo!” Lady Marshall sprang to her feet as fast as her arthritic knees would permit. “Is it really you?” She turned her beaming countenance towards him and held out her hands. He smiled in return as he walked up to his godmother, genuinely pleased to see her. “What a delightful surprise. I thought you were abroad somewhere doing heaven alone knows what for king and country. The antics you gentlemen get up to are quite beyond a frail feminine brain.”

Leo suppressed a smile and kissed her outstretched hand. Her mind was still as sharp as a needle in spite of the dizzy image she enjoyed projecting.

“When did you get back?”

“Last night. I was on my way back to town but could hardly pass your gates without calling in. However…” He allowed his gaze to drift across the gathering. All conversation had ceased and speculative glances were being cast in his direction. “I had no idea you would be entertaining. I am intruding.”

“Nonsense, my boy.” Lord Marshall stood to clasp Leo’s hand and shoulder. “Always a delight to see you.”

“You simply must stay for a few days, Leo,” Lady Marshall said. “You would be a most welcome addition to our little gathering.”

“Very well, if you’re quite sure. Thank you, I should be delighted.”

A chair was produced for him and placed beside Lady Marshall. He was handed a cup of tea, and before he knew it was the centre of much curiosity.

He noticed Julia at once on the periphery of the throng, a vision in lilac muslin. A pretty parasol was tipped over one shoulder, shading her face, and an extravagant bonnet covered her curls. Two young gentlemen were competing for her attention. He refrained from rolling his eyes. Some things never changed. She had observed his arrival, of that he was certain, but now appeared determined to look everywhere except at him. It was the first thing she’d done that surprised him. Julia never played by the rules.

He was acquainted with almost everyone present except some of the younger set. He withstood the giggling attention of the girls with stoic indifference. The barrage of questions directed towards him by the young men keen to know more about his life as a diplomat were almost as easily deflected. He was dimly aware of the speculative expressions on the faces of some of the matrons but ignored their interest. Instead he focused his attention on Mrs. Nugent, the only one of the suspect ladies not previously known to him.

She was exquisitely pretty and would provide interesting competition for Julia. But there was also something contrived about her manner that set him on his guard. She found it difficult to disguise her pleasure at being included in a society gathering of this nature. If her husband really was short of the necessary blunt to maintain their way of life, there was no telling what she might be prepared to do to cling on to her newfound status.

The tea things were cleared away and people drifted towards the house, presumably to rest before it was time to dress for dinner. Still Julia hadn’t acknowledged his presence in any way other than offering him a brief curtsey when he entered the room. They had yet to exchange a single word, a fact not lost on the majority of the company. Leo decided it would be best to get the initial confrontation over with in public and strolled towards her. Charles Chester and Peter Nugent were still vying for her attention.

“Lady Dupont.” He offered her a fastidiously correct bow. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“My Lord Kincade.” She stood and curtsied but didn’t meet his gaze. “It’s been too long.”

“Alas, duty has kept me from these shores these several months.”

She offered him a playful half smile that, given the nature of their discourse, didn’t seem entirely appropriate. “Was it ever thus?”

“My travels prevented me from congratulating you upon your nuptials. Allow me rectify that.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head but kept her eyes focused on the ground. She had every reason to be embarrassed in his company, but he was shaken to discover that she was sensible of the fact, and wondered about the change in her. The lack of vitality and spirited retorts that had always set her apart were totally lacking today. Had marriage already quelled her liveliness? He decided to press the point, all in the furtherance of his investigations, naturally.

“Your husband isn’t here with you?”

“No, he’s engaged in Brighton with His Royal Highness.”

“Ah, I see.”

Leo ought to have made some light remark about Dupont’s stupidity in leaving his young wife to her own devices. He didn’t do so, instead allowing a silence to lengthen between them, anxious to see if the Julia of old would fill the void with bright chatter. To his astonishment she remained silent, still examining the paving stones beneath her feet with rapt interest and keeping her parasol tipped at an angle to shade her face even though there was little or no sun to speak of.

“Do you plan to stay long in England, Lord Kincade?” she asked when the silence was in danger of becoming embarrassing.

“My plans are not yet finalised.”

“Then nothing has changed in that respect either.” She offered him a brief glance from behind her parasol but just as quickly dropped her eyes again.

“You do me an injustice,” he said softly.

“Do I?”

“I don’t believe I ever misled you about my duties.”

“I trust your brother is well,” she said in an abrupt change of subject.

“Thank you. To the best of my knowledge I believe that he is. But I dare say you’ve seen him more recently than I have.”

She looked taken aback, which caused Leo to wonder. Richard had told him he attended a small dinner party at the prince’s behest just two weeks previously and that Julia had been there with her husband. But she appeared to have no recollection of the event.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said, flustered. “I’d quite forgotten.”

“A theatre party, was it not?”

“Yes indeed, the theatre.”

Another long silence ensued. Leo’s mind was alive with possibilities and he made no effort to break it. Richard hated the theatre and could never be persuaded to attend. Julia had lied about when she last saw his brother. But why? The atmosphere radiated with tension. Leo sensed that she was about to take her leave and was gripped with an urgent desire to keep her with him. And to make her talk to him. There was something altogether strange about her attitude that had little to do with embarrassment, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Or, at least, that was how he excused his behaviour to himself.

“Your young friends will think us very dull companions if we have nothing to say to one another,” he said, including her two admirers with a sweep of one hand. “Perhaps you can tell us how matters stand in Brighton. I feel sure that will interest them.” Both men dutifully nodded but looked understandably perplexed. “Tell us, my lady, how does the prince do?”

“I believe he rather enjoys himself in Brighton, away from the parental eye.”

“Is Mrs. Fitzherbert in occupation with His Royal Highness?”

“Really, my lord,” Chester said, his cheeks bright red with indignation. “I hardly think that a suitable question to pose to a lady of the marchioness’s sensibilities.” He shook his head emphatically. Leo struggled not to laugh. If Chester knew Julia a tenth as well as Leo himself did, then he’d be aware that there was no subject on this earth more likely to engage her attention. “Perhaps we should talk about something else.”

“It was a perfectly proper question, Chester,” Leo drawled. The day had yet to dawn when he would allow a Johnny raw to presume to tell him how to behave. “The activities of the prince’s paramour are reported extensively in the news sheets.”

“Even so—”

“Well, Lady Dupont?” Leo spoke with exaggerated civility. “Shall you enlighten us?”

“Since I am not in Brighton, I don’t see how I can satisfy your curiosity, Lord Kincade.”

Leo inclined his head, completely baffled by the change in her. “As you wish,” he said languidly. “For now,” he added, so quietly that only she heard him. He was surprised to see the effect his words had on her. Far from the feisty retort he expected, what little colour she retained drained from her face and she looked almost afraid. Like a cornered rabbit. “Well, Chester,” he continued affably. “It appears that we must live in ignorance of the prince’s private life until someone better informed has the goodness to enlighten us.”

It was now Julia’s turn to blush. “Excuse me, my lord,” she said stiffly. “Gentlemen.”

And with a swish of muslin she was gone, leaving all three men staring after her in mute astonishment at her abrupt departure.

“Damn!” muttered Leo quietly, not too sure why he felt so aggrieved.