The Perfect Impostor (7 page)

Boscombe laughed aloud. “Sounds as if you’d like her better that way.”

“Keep your ear to the ground, Boscombe, and let me know if her maid says anything else interesting. There’s something funny going on, and I’d give much to know what it is.”

“Very well, milord.”

Leo rejoined the gentlemen. The marquess, still the centre of attention and telling even more risqué stories now that there were no ladies present, was drinking the port as steadily as he’d consumed whiskey before dinner and wine during the meal. Perhaps Julia would be spared his attentions tonight after all. Leo was hard-pressed to decide why that should matter to him. Julia was no longer any concern of his. She’d gone into this marriage with her eyes wide open and he didn’t give a damn what she did.

Even so, the thought of such a bracket-faced lecher pawing her for the entire night didn’t sit comfortably with him. Dupont appeared able to handle his liquor, which didn’t auger well for Julia. Only a slight elevation in his ruddy complexion, an extra decibel to his voice and an enhanced insistence that he knew best on all subjects gave him away. And only then because Leo was sitting back, taking little part in the conversation, looking for the signs.

Lord Marshall eventually suggested that they repair to the drawing room, where the ladies were to be found in avid discussion about the charity ball to be held two nights later. An auction was to be the highlight of the affair, raising funds for the displaced servicemen by showing off these socialites at their philanthropic best.

“Ah, gentlemen!” Lady Marshall beamed at them all. “Not a moment too soon. We are just now deciding upon the best lots to auction at the ball and would welcome your advice.”

“Mrs. Nugent has offered a choice of some bolts of silk just imported from India to her husband’s warehouses,” Lady Ainsworth said.

Mrs. Nugent looked furious at having her husband’s warehouses brought into the conversation. Leo imagined she’d not made the offer of the silk voluntarily and that one of her more spiteful companions had suggested it.

“That’s most generous,” Leo said, taking pity on the woman.

“Easy for you to say, Kincade,” Lord Ainsworth said gloomily. “You don’t have a wife and daughters determined to outbid one another for the blasted silk.”

“Lady Chester is kindly offering the use of her box at the Theatre Royal,” Lady Marshall said. Mrs. Nugent looked relieved that the conversation had moved forward. “The latest production of
Hamlet
is taking the town by storm. Tickets are impossible to come by and so that’s bound to raise a lot of money.”

Several other generous offers were made, the ladies attempting to outdo each other, just as Leo had known they would. Julia sat quietly in the shadows at the back of the room and made no contribution to the conversation. He was wondering what had rendered her so lifeless when Lady Ainsworth sidled up to him.

“Our marchioness doesn’t seem to be quite herself tonight,” she said glibly.

“Perhaps she has a megrim.”

“Probably. The unexpected appearance of Dupont would be enough to give anyone the vapours.” Lady Ainsworth shuddered. “She’s seemed totally out of sorts since he arrived.”

“Has she?” Leo forced himself to sound disinterested. “Can’t say I’ve noticed.”

“Leo, don’t tell such clankers. You’ve scarce removed your eyes from her this entire evening.” She offered him a predatory smile. “If I didn’t know you better, I might think you were still suffering from disappointment in that quarter.”

“Then it’s fortunate that you know better, Sarah.” He and Lady Ainsworth had enjoyed a brief liaison shortly after Leo’s separation from Julia.

“I should not be averse to being reminded.”

Leo quirked a brow. “With your husband in attendance?”

“Don’t try to be coy, Leo. It doesn’t suit you.” She pouted. “All right then, if I can’t tempt you, prove that you’re no longer enamoured of Julia Dupont by calling her out about this auction.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” he drawled. “I have nothing to prove to anyone.”

“But it will look odd if she doesn’t contribute.”

Leo sighed, knowing the woman wouldn’t stop plaguing him until she got her way. “Very well. If it would please you.”

She offered him a throaty chuckle. “You know what would please me most but you don’t seem interested. Have you any idea how insulting that is?”

Leo squeezed her wrist. “Stop playing games, Sarah. I don’t feed in other men’s troughs.”

“You did once.”

“That was different.”

She quirked a brow. “Was it.”

“What of you, Lady Dupont?” Charles Chester asked, before Leo could pose the same question. “What donation do you intend to offer to the cause?”

“I’m not sure what more I can contribute,” she said, lifting her shoulders very slightly. “Everyone has been so generous, it’s difficult to know what more can be done.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” called her husband from across the room. “It ain’t like you to lag behind the crowd.”

“Perhaps a contribution of some livestock,” she suggested meekly.

“Stuff and nonsense, m’dear, that would be far too dull.” Dupont shot her a quizzical look. “What the devil ails you this evening?”

“Why not auction yourself, Lady Dupont?” Leo suggested languidly, aware of Lady Ainsworth stifling a giggle behind her fan.

“Beg pardon!” The marquess leapt to his feet. Several of the ladies gasped in outrage, or scandalous delight—it was difficult to tell which. “Are you trying to be deliberately insulting, Kincade?”

“I meant on the dance floor,” Leo said smoothly. “I gather you’re a master of this new dance, the waltz, Lady Dupont. Why not offer yourself to whoever pledges the most for the privilege of partnering you?”

“By gad, sir, that’s perfect!” Dupont slapped his thigh, clearly delighted by a suggestion unique enough to be worthy of retelling in the prince’s court. One which would show his wife in a fashionable light. “Julia could show ’em all a thing or two right enough. She waltzed with the prince himself just last month. Well, what do you say, m’dear?”

Julia smiled with artificial brightness but hesitated for a prolonged moment before nodding. All eyes were upon her. There was nothing else she could have done other than agree. But Leo thought she seemed terrified by a suggestion that should have delighted her. Julia enjoyed nothing more than being the centre of attention.

Damn it, something just wasn’t right with her and he was determined to find out what it was. Looking for anomalies in the behaviour of the ladies under suspicion was, after all, his sole reason for being here.

Dupont had just committed her to making an exhibition of herself in a ballroom full of people when she’d never waltzed a single step in her entire life.

But for now Katrina could barely spare a thought for that predicament. Her more immediate concern was Lord Dupont. Unless she could contrive a way to avoid his amorous advances, she would be exposed for the impostor she was, and the problematic waltz would no longer be relevant.

She needed to slip away and consult Celia on how best to evade the marquess. But the excitement about the auction and the prominent role the others decreed she would play in it turned her into a reluctant centre of attention, restricting her to the drawing room for the entire evening. Questions were fired at her and it took every ounce of ingenuity she possessed to answer them in a lively, Julia-like manner. Of more immediate concern, the marquess directed frequent scowls towards Lord Kincade, suspicious about his presence beneath the same roof as his wife. His eyes were frequently fixed upon her, as though trying to decide if he was being played for a clunch.

Finally, with her nerves at breaking point and a vicious pain hammering at her temple, her opportunity came. People were ambling about in small groups, some drifting towards the card tables, others strolling on the terrace. Katrina seized the chance to retire.

“Yes, m’dear, you go on up.” The marquess was engaged in conversation with several of the gentlemen but noticed her move towards the vestibule. “I shan’t be long.”

Katrina disciplined herself not to run up the stairs. By the time she reached her room and almost threw herself into it, her heart was pounding as painfully as her head. She could tell from Celia’s harried expression that she’d already heard the news.

“What the devil am I to do about him?”

“Don’t panic, ma’am. We’ll think of something.”

“Then
we,
that is to say
you,
had better do so quickly, since he’s not far behind me.” A hand flew to Katrina’s mouth. “Will he expect to share this room with me?” Her gaze darted desperately about but none of his apparel was evident in the orderly chamber.

“No, thankfully you will be spared that.” Celia waved towards a door on the opposite side of the little sitting room. “The marquess’s man has established Lord Dupont’s things in there.”

“Which doesn’t help much. Presumably he knows how to open a door.”

“Yes, but it gains you a respite whilst we decide what to do.”

“Celia, you don’t seem especially surprised by the marquess’s appearance.” Katrina eyed her with suspicion. “Were you aware that this situation might arise? Was Julia?”

“Well, I—”

“Damnation, how could she do this to me?” Katrina threw her discarded slipper at the door but it did little to relieve her mounting tension.

“My lady didn’t know for sure. The marquess always says he’ll try to join her but he doesn’t necessarily make good on that promise. She had other things on her mind and probably forgot he’d even said it.”

“She ought to have told me. I never would have agreed to do this if I’d known.” Katrina paced the length of the room in a highly agitated state. “Which is presumably why she chose not to warn me.” She threw herself into a chair and dropped her head into her splayed hands. “What am I to do, Celia? I won’t share a bed with the man, not even for Julia’s sake.”

“It won’t come to that, ma’am.” She persuaded Katrina to stand and helped her out of her gown. “Was he jug-bitten?”

Katrina considered the question. “He consumed a vast amount of drink before and during dinner and doubtless partook of his fair share of the port too. His voice became louder and his manner more gregarious as the evening wore on.” She glanced at Celia, a question in her eyes. “Would that render him incapable?”

“I doubt it. His lordship has a thick head.”

Katrina’s faint hopes withered. “Well then, the only thing we can do is lock the connecting door.”

“No, that won’t serve. His lordship is used to having his way, and if you don’t let him in then I wouldn’t put it past him to break the door down.”

“You’re right about that. Earlier he made it embarrassingly evident precisely what he had in mind for me.” Katrina shuddered. “I doubt whether a locked door would deter him.”

“Come on, milady.” Celia forced Katrina into a pretty nightgown and matching robe. She released her hair from its clip and brushed it until it shimmered down her back in glorious waves. “I think we should go on the offensive.”

She pouted. “By us, I assume you mean me.”

“You shall not wait for his lordship to call upon you but will take the initiative and go to him.”

“The devil I will! I know your loyalty rests with Julia, but I don’t intend to sacrifice myself to that odious man, not even for the sake of my best friend.” Repulsion gripped Katrina. “Besides, he’d know at once that I’m not his wife when he has me in his bed.”

Celia, locked in thought, took a moment to respond. “As soon as I hear his lordship’s man leave him for the night, you’ll go through to his room and surprise him in that nightgown. I’ve already arranged for a bottle of champagne to be placed in his room—”

“He hates champagne.”

“Yes, but you do not. In such circumstances he wouldn’t be averse to sharing a glass or two with you.”

“What good will that do, other than delay the inevitable?”

“Pour the drinks yourself and add a little of this to his.” Celia handed her a phial of brownish liquid.

“What is it?”

“Laudanum. I procured some from the stillroom as soon as I heard of my master’s arrival.”

“You want me to drug him?” Katrina wondered why, if Celia had already formulated a plan, she hadn’t said so straightaway. Surely she hadn’t hoped that Katrina would agree to share Dupont’s bed? She stared at the woman, trying to read her face, but her expression gave nothing away.

“Mixed with the champagne he won’t taste it, and if you distract him sufficiently he won’t notice that his drink is a different colour to yours. He’ll most likely drain the full glass in one go anyway. He usually does when he drinks champagne with my mistress.”

“I didn’t realise that he dislikes champagne and almost gave myself away.”

“He only likes to drink it in private with you, milady. He probably thought that you were being playful. Encouraging him even.”

Katrina nodded again, her face flooding with colour as she recalled his strange comment and leering expression when she’d handed him the glass.

“Given the amount of alcohol he’s already imbibed, this will knock him out long before you’re in danger of being defiled.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Laudanum works fast. He’ll sleep like a baby once it hits his system. We’ll put him to bed and he’ll be none the wiser. Since he has to leave at first light, he’ll discover evidence that you were in his chamber and assume he bedded you.”

Katrina sighed. “You make it all sound so simple.”

“You have to try it, ma’am, for my mistress’s sake. You owe her a great deal.”

Katrina looked up sharply. Celia went too far. She wanted to tell her that there were limits to any friendship but Celia seemed too implacably determined to entertain arguments.

“If the champagne and laudanum combined somehow fail to halt him, you can always crown him with the chamber pot. That would be equally effective but only do it as a last resort. He’d obviously remember what you’d done, and that would cause problems for my mistress.”

Katrina didn’t give a damn about her mistress and was angry with Celia for her single-mindedness. “It’s all right for you. You’re not the one who will shortly have to fend off the odious man.”

“Have courage, ma’am. Even the fiercest man is malleable when alone in a bedroom with a beautiful woman.”

“Celia, I just don’t know.” Katrina bit her lip, wondering if she had the strength of will to follow through with Celia’s plan. Did she even want to try? She was still furious with Julia for not warning her that her husband might put in an appearance. “Alone he’s bound to notice the differences between Julia and me. I think he already suspects.”

Celia tied a pretty cap over Katrina’s curls, completely covering the crown of her head, helping to disguise her hair. “Here, let’s rub some more of this healing balm into your hands. They look so much better already. Using this twice daily has made them almost respectable. Did I not say that it would?”

“His lordship won’t be fooled.”

“He’ll be so taken with you that he won’t notice your hands.”

Katrina shuddered. “That’s what concerns me.”

“Now then, what more?” Celia stood back and regarded Katrina, frowning. “Yes, I think you’ll do very well. Just a little of milady’s distinctive Bourgeois and Amik perfume.” She applied it liberally, making Katrina sneeze.

“I can’t do this,” Katrina said, sinking onto the side of the bed and clutching her aching head in her hands.

“Of course you can! Did I not mention that my master is short-sighted but too vain to wear glasses. He is expecting to entertain his wife and in the dim light of a bedchamber he won’t realise that you aren’t her.”

“You make it sound so straightforward. Probably because it’s not you who’s about to be pawed by a stranger.”

“I think I can hear his lordship.” Celia’s voice took on an urgent edge as she tripped to the connecting door and pressed her ear to it. Against her better judgement Katrina followed her, naked fear twisting at her insides as she tried to decide whether there really was a chance of Celia’s crazy plan succeeding. If Dupont caught her trying to drug him he’d bellow like a bull, bringing the whole household to their door. “He’s in there. I can hear him talking to his man.”

Time seemed to stand still. In the face of Celia’s determination, Katrina felt powerless to do anything other than to follow her instructions. She thought about her late husband and the more perilous situations she’d faced when he was alive. Had it not been for Julia’s father, she would likely have been hanged for murder.

That decided her. She lifted her chin, took a deep breath and knew she could do this.

“All right, milady, it’s time. I’ve just heard him dismiss his man.” Celia slipped the small phial of laudanum into Katrina’s hand. “I’ll be right here on the other side of this door if you need me.”

She patted Katrina’s shoulder, opened the door and gave her a small shove in the back when her limbs refused to move, sending her tumbling into the room. Lord Dupont looked up, clearly surprised that she’d taken the initiative, but he made no effort to disguise his pleasure. His eyes widened, filling with lusty appreciation as they lingered on her body.

Her night rail was of the finest lustre. With the candlelight directly behind her, she would appear almost naked, and it was apparent that Lord Dupont considered her attitude to be a provocative invitation. Oh hell, what had she done?

“Too eager to wait, eh?” Dupont chuckled and reached for her. “You’ve changed, Julia.” He screwed up his eyes and examined her closely.

Katrina’s heart arrested. Now was the time when he’d notice the differences and demand an explanation. She wanted to say something to deflect his close scrutiny but her mind was a complete blank as she waited for the axe to fall. She could only thank God that as well as being intoxicated, he had impaired vision. Added to that the room was dimly lit so he wouldn’t see her features clearly. Even so, she expected the penny to drop at any moment and for him to cry foul.

“Whatever’s brought about the alteration, I’m glad to see you demonstrating a little enthusiasm for your marital duties. You clearly took my last warning to heart.”

Warning? What warning? “We see so little of one another,” she said, evading his groping hand and looking wildly about her for the promised champagne. She saw it on a sideboard close to the window. “What brings you here, my lord?”

“Apart from you, do you mean?” He barked a laugh. “Had I known you would be this pleased to see me, I would have found a reason to call long before now.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“My business for His Royal Highness doesn’t concern you.” His eyes moved to the huge bed which dominated the room. Katrina herself had been doing her best to avoid looking at it. “This however is very much your business. It’s high time that you gave me an heir, madam. You assured me the last time we met that you thought you were with child.”

“It was a false alarm,” she said, wondering if that was actually true.

At close quarters she could see that Lord Dupont’s eyes were riddled with red lines, and his voice, although almost completely level, betrayed the occasional slur. He was clearly intoxicated, but would it be enough? Would the laudanum fell such an ox of a man? Celia seemed so sure, but how could she actually know?

“Well then, let’s see if we can make a better job of it this time. We have one short night so let’s not waste it with idle chatter.”

“Certainly I shall do my duty. Let’s not quarrel about it but instead share some champagne to seal the bargain.”

Before he could attend to the matter, she slipped past him, making straight for the bottle. She’d never opened one in her life and he certainly wouldn’t expect her to do so. Perhaps she would be able to slip the drug into his glass once he’d poured it but it would be more difficult. To her relief Celia had planned well, and the cork was resting in the neck of the bottle.

She poured two glasses, aware of his eyes boring into her back as she did so, and somehow managed to slip the whole phial of laudanum into his without him noticing. She panicked, wondering if it would be too much. Did Celia say to use it all? She had been too distracted to take proper notice but it was too late now. She could hardly call it back and so, with a bright smile on her face, she turned towards him and handed him the drugged glass.

“To the future heir.” She raised her glass to his and downed it in one, trying not to choke on the bubbles.

He looked momentarily surprised by her lack of restraint but too pleased with her apparent willingness to remark upon it.

“To the future heir.” He followed her example and downed his drink in one, his eyes not once leaving her face. He put his glass aside, extracted hers from between her fingers and threw it impatiently over his shoulder. It hit the fireplace and shattered, making her jump.