The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (38 page)

Of all the relatives
she’d most like to avoid, her father’s mother topped the list.
Tally loved her dearly, but they were too much alike… and that was
the problem. Grandma Lawton sensed things about her that no one else
ever did, other than her grandmother’s twin sister, Great Aunt Ida,
had.

Worse. Now that Grandma
knew her youngest granddaughter was in town, she was going to be on
Tally’s doorstep tomorrow! How was she going to conceal Reed’s
presence in her house from her inquisitive grandparent? Maybe, if she
visited her grandparent at her home instead, she could avoid that.

“Here you are.” Mr.
Dubuc sounded aggrieved. “There’s a terrible crush near the bar.
I thought I’d never be served!”

“My sister never does
things by halves, I’m afraid.” She smiled perfunctorily. He
handed her a glass of … ugh! ratafia. “Thank you,” she murmured
politely, hiding her grimace of distaste. It was her own fault! She
should never have allowed him to choose her drink. But he was French!
She’d imagined he’d choose the French wine she knew had to be
available at any of her family’s party. Or, at least, the Madeira
or even the punch. She was surprised her sister even served this
dreadful swill. Her entire family detested it.

No doubt he believed a
young lady wouldn’t appreciate a fine wine. If he were one of her
brothers, she’d have called him a dunce to his face! Instead, she
focused on being thankful Spence hadn’t lingered near her. It was
hard to imagine the two men conversing. Spence seemed so young
compared to the elegant and sophisticated Mr. Dubuc.

His poor taste in
drinks aside, the man was an entertaining companion, she admitted
awhile later. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t compare to Reed.

Oh, where had that come
from? This was not the time or place to dwell on her sham spouse.
Besides, men had no permanent place in her life, even if they were
attractive and… Stop it! She had to stop thinking about him in that
vein.

And really, where were
her sisters? Hadn’t they promised to introduce her to people? She
hadn’t met anyone yet, other than Spence and Mr. Dubuc. But she
shouldn’t complain. Spending time with Monsieur’s nephew fit in
with her plans. He was putting himself out to amuse her and that was
good. She wanted to get along with him because she was hoping he’d
help her contact his uncle. She’d been biding her time before
bringing that up.

“
Piccola.
”

Gratefully, she turned
to greet Venetia.

“You, little sister,
are the most beautiful woman here. Don’t you think so, Mr. Dubuc?”

Her gratitude didn’t
last for long. She was mortified that her sister was indulging in
more heavy-handed matchmaking. Not giving him the chance to reply,
Tally rushed into speech. “Have you heard from
mamma
recently?”

“Yes, I received a
letter from her last week,” Venetia replied. “She says father is
thriving on life in Italy and they may never come back. He has so
much work, he’s even turning some down.”

“Have you seen his
newest work?” Mr. Dubuc asked.

He was nothing if not
polite, Tally reflected. He slipped smoothly into any conversation
introduced. He’d even managed to inject an eager note in his query.

“Not recently,” her
sister answered. “He’s inundated with special commissions, so he
has no time to start new work of his own, let alone find the time to
send any home for display.”

“Oh, but I saw two of
his paintings at the Exhibit that just ended at the Royal Academy.”
Tally decided she might as well find out what people were saying
about her two paintings.

A slight frown rippled
across Mr. Dubuc’s face, before being instantly replaced with his
charming smile.

“You did? How
strange,” Venetia said.

Tally was silently
urging her sister to expound. Instead, her sister turned to
Monsieur’s nephew with rueful apology in her voice. “I was so
sorry I never found the time to get to the Exhibit this year. I’d
promised your uncle and Monsieur Beauclaire I would attend, but with
all the preparations for...” Realizing it wouldn’t be tactful to
mention their abandoned plans for Paris in front of her, Tally
surmised, Venetia shifted the subject back to their father’s
artwork. “I wonder how Father managed it. Were they his best yet?”

To Tally’s surprise,
Mr. Dubuc answered. “They were very good, indeed.” Of course he’d
have seen them. Maybe all of her works. No doubt he got to see most
of the artwork kept at Monsieur’s studio.

“My uncle asked me to
enter them in the exhibit. I often do that for him, especially if
Beauclaire is away.”

So Monsieur hadn’t
entered them himself. Could his nephew have made a mistake?

“
Mon
oncle
knew they’d be a great success. They’re a little
out of your father’s ordinary style, but quite affecting. Did you
not think so, mademoiselle?”

“I did,” she
agreed. What else was she to say? “I was surprised to see that both
were already sold.”

“You shouldn’t be.
Your father’s paintings sell very quickly and for a very good
price.”

“I suppose we don’t
think of them that way, do we, Talia?” her sister said.

“Uncle received a new
shipment of your father’s paintings recently, and I guarantee they
will be snapped up like hot cross buns on Good Friday.” The trace
of enthusiasm in his voice warmed her to him. Clearly art was his
passion too, even if he was on the other side of the canvas.

“Where is Monsieur
Beauclaire this evening?” Venetia glanced around looking for the
art agent.

Monsieur Beauclaire!
Monsieur’s great friend and associate, and her father’s agent in
France. She had never met him because he either stayed in London or
traveled frequently to France, but she should have thought of him
sooner. He would surely be able to tell her where Monsieur was, if
Mr. Dubuc couldn’t.

“I thought he’d be
eager to meet all father’s patrons in one place, so much less
tedious for him. I told him I had invited them all.” Venetia
sounded aggrieved.

“I have no idea.”
His tone indicated he didn’t much care either. “When are you
planning on going to Paris?” he asked her sister, changing the
subject.

“We’re not sure,”
she cast a quick look at Tally, “but we still expect to go for part
of the Season.” She smiled. “I hear you’ve been going over
quite regularly.”

“I love the city and
the life there.” He cast a quick glance her way. “My greatest
wish is to live there at some point in the future.”

Goodness,
did he think she’d mind what his future plans were!
Tally listened to them talk, with only half her attention, to their
discussion on the best places to go and things to do in Paris. The
other half assessed Mr. Dubuc. She liked the way he listened to her
when she talked. Her father and brothers never gave much regard to
her opinions. Nor did her mother or sisters, for that matter.

He wasn’t just
handsome, he was gorgeous. How would it feel to be wed to a man more
beautiful than you, she wondered. Yet for all his beauty, he didn’t
make her stomach sizzle like Reed did. Just thinking about him caused
a little shiver to wiggle up her spine.

He also paid attention
to her.

Naturally. He thought
he had to. He believed he was her husband. Not that all, or even many
husbands of her acquaintance worried about that. Maybe, because he
had no recollections of his own, he was thirsty for information. He
was willing to do anything to recover his memory.

Impatient with herself
for dwelling on him when there was a handsome, interested man in
front of her, she made herself face facts. If Reed was a gentleman,
as they were beginning to suspect and, if they were truly married,
she’d never be permitted to continue painting seriously.

Besides, once he
learned who shot him, she was in trouble! And, if he
was
Quality, he’d no more marry her than the Prince Regent could
legally wed Mrs. Fitzherbert!

No
more than you would consider wedding him!
she scolded
herself.
No matter how attracted
to him you are.
Lately, her determination to avoid the
wedded state seemed to be wavering.

You
have to stop this ridiculous obsession, Tally.
Marriage
was never in the cards.
You made
a vow!
Yes, but that was before you knew what the good
parts entailed! Now that she knew, it was going to be a lot harder to
keep to her plan.

A movement in a nearby
window distracted her. She turned an absent glance that way and...

O
mio Dio!
Feeling suddenly faint, she plied her fan
vigorously for several reviving moments. All her attention focused on
that pane of glass. It couldn’t be! Surely Reed knew better than to
peer into the window at her sister’s, at anyone’s, party! Hiding
her horror, she smoothed her face into a pleasantly innocuous smile.

“If you’ll pardon
me a moment, your husband is beckoning me over, she told her sister.
“I’ll go see what he wants.” She hastened to dissemble when her
sister began to turn around to see why her husband was summoning
Tally. “Probably wishes to introduce me to someone.”

“He’s thoughtful
that way.” Venetia smiled fondly and gave her sister a gentle push.
“Go,” she said, turning back to Mr. Dubuc to continue their
conversation.

Leaving them, she
threaded her way through the clusters of guests, trying not to look
too conspicuous. Perhaps she’d be able to sneak out the terrace
doors and get to him before anyone saw him. His face was gone from
the window, so she was hopeful. She’d almost made it, when she
heard someone’s raised voice. “You there, what are you doing
skulking around out there?”

Oh my goodness! He’d
been discovered! She was about to be exposed! Branded a liar. Worse,
a woman without morals. In front of all these people! Her sisters!
Her whole family was going to be ruined alongside her.

Why, oh why, had she
allowed Dr. Graham to convince her to engage in this charade?

She was swept along by
the crowd converging near the door. Across the gathering, she spotted
a tall, spare man gazing directly at her. The Baron! What poor
timing. And Reed had told him they were leaving Town! He mustn’t
see Reed or there was no chance of avoiding discovery!

She averted her eyes,
ignoring him, as a lady who had never been introduced to a man
should. She pushed free of the group and inched forward, trying to
make herself invisible. She was fully expecting, at any moment, to
see Reed pointing his finger at her and announcing that he was her
husband. So she was stunned to see not Reed but Mr. Mason saunter
through the French doors, the cynosure of all eyes, not a whit put
out and looking like he belonged. His gaze touched on her, but never
lingered. She exhaled unsteadily. Not by so much as a blink had he
given her away.

But… what had
happened to Reed?

While the crowd circled
around Mr. Mason, who seemed more than willing to explain his
unconventional arrival, she slipped outside.

“Over here!”

Startled, she almost
squealed.

The stage whisper came
from behind a large statue of some anonymous Greek deity, less than
ten feet away. She forced herself to stroll slowly in that direction,
striving to look as if she was merely out for some fresh air.

“What are you doing
here?” she hissed when she was close enough to be heard, she hoped,
only by him.

“I followed you to
make sure you were safe.”

“You thought someone
might attack me inside my sister’s home!” She was incredulous.

“No. I worried you
might be attacked on the way. Once here, curiosity got the better of
me. I wanted to see if I recognized anyone in there.”

Tally felt queasy at
the thought of Baron Morley.

“Perhaps I should
come in and greet your family now that I’m here?” Reed suggested.

“No!” Realizing
she’d overreacted, Tally tried for a calmer tone. “My family has
never met you. Nor are you dressed for the occasion.” She wished
she’d thought of the second reason first because she could see he
was so astounded by her first reason, he hadn’t even heard the
second one.

“I’ve never met any
of your family?” He was clearly taken aback.

“We got married
quickly.” Her false confession was grudging. “And now, without
your memory, I preferred to wait.”

“And how would you
introduce me if you could?” He sounded as if his question was very
important.

“I don’t
understand?”

“Would you present me
as Mr. Leighton?”

“Well, of course. How
else could I present you?” What on earth did he mean? A horrifying
thought almost made her faint. What if he had remembered his name,
his real name! If he had, this was the worst place for him to be
revealing it!

His face fell. She’d
have sworn that was a look of guilt she saw. Guilt about what? About
coming here and almost exposing them to scandal? But he had no idea
they weren’t really married… did he?

“Forget it.” He
shifted subjects. “I understand why you won’t introduce me to
your family while I’m like this, but has my family met you?”

“No, they haven’t.”
Lord but she hated all these lies. Sir Walter Scott had it right when
he wrote of that “tangled web we weave when first we practice to
deceive”. This was becoming far too complicated and she felt like
she was all tied up in knots! Each one tighter than the next. “Our
marriage was… impulsive. Neither of our families were present.”

His look of utter
disbelief made her squirm. “That doesn’t sound like me… or the
person I think I am.” She saw the effort he made to lower his voice
that was rising along with his agitation. “Doesn’t your family
think it odd that I’m not escorting you to this ball? Or do our
families even know we’re married?”