The Perfect Impostor Page 11

  “Anything else?” Leo asked.

  “Yes, a shattered champagne flute that hadn’t been properly cleared up.”

  “A night of real passion then.”

  “Well, whatever the two of them did in there it can’t have lasted for long. One side of the bed was barely touched, and there were none of the giveaway odours one would expect after their activities, if you get my drift. And the linen didn’t bear any telltale signs either, if you want specifics.”

  Leo wasn’t sure if he required such graphic information any more than he knew what to make of it. He concentrated upon making a better fist of his second neckcloth.

  “Keep Celia in your sights today, Boscombe. Let me know where she goes and what she does. I shall do the same with her mistress.”

  “She’s outside with the others, just heading for the lake. On her own.”

  “Is she now.”

  By the time Leo got outside, Julia was halfway along the walkway that skirted the lake. She had just passed the Italian garden when he caught up with her.

  “Julia.” He lifted his hat. “All alone.”

  “Is that so unusual?”

  “In your case I would say unheard of. You were never one for your own company.”

  “I have a headache.”

  “I am sorry to hear you say so.” He screwed up his eyes, observing her as best he could through that ridiculous veil, and frowned. “You do look a trifle pale. Perhaps you’re disappointed that your lord couldn’t stay longer.” The suggestion made her shudder but she covered it well. “I’m surprised he didn’t persuade you to accompany him back to Court. Is that not where you would prefer to be? Nothing interesting ever happens in the country and not many people can admire you here.”

  “I disagree. If it’s intrigue and gossip you require, where better than a country house party to gather your material. Why, only yesterday I overheard Lady Ainsworth confiding to another lady that she would bring her quarry to heel before the week’s out. I don’t think there’s any misinterpreting that.” She smiled impishly. “I only wish I knew whom she has set her sights upon.”

  Leo decided not to enlighten her. “Probably an under groom.”

  Julia gasped. “Surely not?”

  “Lady Ainsworth enjoys a little rough.”

  “And you’d know that because…” She twirled her parasol over her opposite shoulder and opened her eyes very wide. “Surely she didn’t reject you, Leo?”

  “You think me incapable of engaging Lady Ainsworth’s attention?” He pretended to take offence. “You wound me.”

  “Oh, so you do not find her attractive, then?”

  “I haven’t considered the question before. She’s another man’s wife. You ought to know that I avoid such creatures.”

  “Whatever makes you say that?”

  “It’s me you’re talking to, Julia.” Leo regarded her with a quizzical expression. There was something not right about her reaction to him. She kept her face averted from his, as though examining the beautifully maintained flower beds, but he didn’t think she was actually seeing them. It was the first time they’d been completely alone since his arrival and she was on edge. He decided to push her a little harder. “After all that passed between us,” he drawled, “I’m surprised you could ask such a question. Is your memory so very short?”

  “Sometimes a short memory is beneficial.”

  “True.” He took her gloved hand and placed it on his sleeve. She looked as though she wanted to snatch it away again but didn’t do so. “However, if I’m not uncomfortable with the subject matter then I fail to see why it should overset you.”

  She stopped walking and finally turned to look directly at him. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. They stood there regarding one another, the atmosphere charged with carnal tension. Her eyes widened and Leo felt as though he was drowning in their depths, even through the obscuring veil. It barely registered that the flecks in her remarkable eyes were amber today. A bolt of desire whipped through his bloodstream with all the force of a tornado, despite him having got over his infatuation with Julia long ago. She didn’t move, standing there with an expression of helpless vulnerability in eyes that were definitely not Julia’s.

  Leo was stunned by this proof of his half-formed suspicions. His discovery explained so much. This woman was impersonating Julia, presumably with Julia’s prior knowledge and consent, and had even shared the marquess’s bed rather than give herself away. It explained as well why she didn’t appear to understand the history between the two of them. Julia hadn’t known he’d be here and so there’d been no necessity to tell the impostor the embarrassing truth. It explained why she didn’t possess Julia’s lively ability to flirt and make light of every situation.

  It explained why he felt inexplicably drawn towards her, even though Julia’s charms had long ceased to enthral him.

  It explained a very great deal but also left a lot of questions unanswered. Like who was she? Leo felt foolish that he’d been deceived, even temporarily, but decided not to reveal that she’d been found out. At least for now. He would play along with the deception and see where it led.

  “What is it?” he asked. “Why do you seem so distraught?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  The woman who wasn’t Julia turned away from him and continued walking along the wide gravel path that led to the lake. Leo kept pace with her but didn’t reclaim her hand. He’d thought that for a fleeting moment she’d been tempted to confide in him. The deception clearly hung heavily on her shoulders. But that moment passed and she was doing her poor best to fall back into her role as the Marchioness of Lanarkshire.

  They passed through the gates topped by marble winged horses that led directly to the lake. She stared up at the statues with an awed expression, exclaiming aloud at their loveliness. He and Julia had once admired them together on a previous visit but it was clear that this Julia was seeing them for the first time.

  “I have never seen anything quite so magnificent,” she said, her tone resonating with an earthy vibrancy that enthralled him.

  Leo had. It was the sight of this woman’s face, softened by admiration for the sculptor’s skill, and the sultry, sinfully tempting smile playing about her plump, highly kissable lips. His reaction to her pleasure was entirely predictable. And exceedingly uncomfortable. He ought to say or do something to defuse the situation.

  But he did nothing, other than to continue staring at her with rapt fascination.

  Voices from nearby recalled them both to the present. They discovered the fishing party engaged in a lively debate about Napoleon’s exile to Elba.

  “What do you think, Kincade?” one of them asked. “Will the island be sufficient to contain the bastard?” He appeared to recall Julia’s presence and hastily begged her pardon.

  “Not at all,” she said, smiling. “And I agree with you. Our army is so engaged with the conflict in the Americas that they forget about Napoleon. They think he is finished but he still commands a lot of support and will likely use our preoccupation to effect an escape.”

  “Well said, Lady Dupont!” Lord Ainsworth beamed at her. “It’s rare to find a female who takes an interest in such matters, much less understands them.”

  The rest of the gentlemen congratulated her also. If Leo had entertained any lingering doubts about this woman being an impostor, they were now shot to pieces. Julia’s disinclination to follow politics or support him in his diplomatic duties had been one of the many subjects upon which they had argued. Julia had never expressed a political opinion in her life, declaring it to be men’s work. This creature, on the other hand, clearly had a strong command and quick understanding of developments on the world stage. The lively argument she was now conducting with Lord Ainsworth about the iniquities of the slave trade confirmed the fact.

  “You ought to go into politics, Lady Dupont,” Ainsworth suggested.

  The non-Julia threw back her head, tilted it to one side and laughed
. The sound was sweeter than music, as free and uninhibited as water running across rocks in a mountain stream. So uniquely Julia that it swept Leo back in time. He had seen Julia adopt that particular mannerism on so many occasions that he was now almost convinced he was in her company.

  Almost.

  Such an accurate impersonation would require the skill of a professional actress and take months, if not years, to perfect. Even so, she’d managed it. He wanted to believe that the inconsistencies he’d recognised in her behaviour were the produce of an unhappy marriage, made in haste and, evidently, now repented. Dupont had crushed her spirit with his controlling behaviour and left the world with a mere shell of the vibrant young lady who had taken the ton by storm. Wanting to believe it, however, couldn’t dispel the unpalatable truth. This lady was an impostor.

  One of the gentlemen cried out, recalling the others to the fishing poles. Leo used the landing of an especially large trout as an excuse to ease Julia away. They headed towards the Japanese garden where again Julia expressed her delight at all she saw. Leo suppressed a grim smile. When he and Julia had last been in this garden, they hadn’t wasted time admiring the view. Instead they’d admired one another.

  Ardently.

  Julia had given much of herself on a soft bed of pine needles behind the pagoda. Just after he proposed marriage to her. If the lady beside him really was Julia she could hardly fail to recall the event and show some reaction. But even when Leo steered her towards the pagoda itself and suggested that they take a rest there, she showed no disinclination.

  “It’s stunningly beautiful,” she said, an enthralled expression on her face. “I had no idea.”

  “Apparently not.” He flicked the tails of his coat aside and sat beside her. “Do you enjoy gardens then?”

  “Oh, yes, I just wish that I had more time to—”

  “Yes, what were you about to say?”

  “Oh, nothing of consequence.” She trilled a laugh that was nothing like Julia’s. Then she collected herself and slipped back into her role. When she remembered whom she was supposed to be, she was quite convincing. Only someone who knew her as well as Leo once had would notice the slip. “One cannot have everything.”

  Leo affected surprise. “But you have it all.”

  “Do I?”

  “Is it not enough for you? Your powerful husband doesn’t live up to your expectations?”

  “My husband is not the problem exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Don’t take any notice of me. I’m just feeling my age today.”

  Leo quirked a brow. “Your age? I suppose you are getting on a bit. Two-and-twenty is certainly an advanced age.”

  “How do you know my…oh, of course.”

  She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Don’t you recall how we celebrated your last birthday but one?”

  “I no longer think about such things.” She kept her eyes averted. “They’re nothing to me.”

  He sighed deeply. “Alas, to be so easily dismissed as an irrelevance. I’m mortified.”

  “Sometimes I long to be a child again,” she said, ignoring his theatrics. “Life was so much simpler when all one’s decisions were made by someone else.”

  Having made this cryptic and most un-Julia-like statement, she stared off into the distance, her lovely eyes dulled by some painful memory. Her expression, what he could see of it, reflected a combination of confusion and vulnerability that Julia would never have revealed in public. It was quite beyond Leo’s ability to remain immune in the face of such uncontrived melancholy.

  With a soft exhalation of breath, he placed two fingers beneath the impostor’s chin and lifted the veil from her face, pushing it back across the brim of her bonnet. She stood stock still and made no move to prevent him. Then he turned her head until she was compelled to look into his eyes, and with slow deliberation lowered his head and gently covered her lips with his own.

  Chapter Ten

  Katrina froze as his lips played on hers, teasing, taunting and more tempting than they had any right to be. Long fingers tangled with a coil of escaped hair at her nape, brushing gently against her neck and sending spirals of exquisite need swishing down her spine with an intensity that made her head spin. Her insides turned to liquid as his tongue, moist and firm, traced the line of her lips with a delicate touch that caused all sense of reason to flee her addled brain.

  This was too much. He went too far. She tried to protest, really she did, but as soon as she opened her mouth to do so, he forced his tongue deep inside it with an assurance she was ill-equipped to fight, crushing her lips with a brutal hunger that took her breath away. She inhaled sharply, stealing what air he had remaining in his own lungs, wondering what she was supposed to do about this situation. What Julia would have done.

  But the incendiary nature of the kiss, which appeared to go on forever, and the manner in which it caused her body to pulsate with growing need made thinking about anything else next to impossible. His arms now encircled her body like rigid bands of steel whilst her own, quite without her being aware of it, had slipped round his neck. Worse yet, she was kissing him back with an urgency that at least mirrored his own.

  Only when she realised what she was actually doing did she gather every last vestige of her self-control and pull her lips away from his. But escaping from his arms was not so easily achieved. He looked down at her, in no hurry to let her go, a taunting smile playing about the lips that had effectively destroyed her. She attempted to wriggle free but his hold was too strong for her to break it. She glared at him, trying to look affronted when she knew very well that to a man as experienced as Lord Kincade, her response would seem like deliberate encouragement. Katrina consoled herself with the thought that Julia would have reacted in exactly the same way.

  And she was Julia. She owed it to her friend to perpetrate that myth.

  Even though she’d acted in the way he would expect of Julia, Katrina couldn’t lie to herself. It wasn’t Julia who had kissed Leo Kincade back with such ardent urgency. That had been the impostor Katrina Sinclair, steward’s daughter, innkeeper’s widow and aspiring modiste. She was still reeling from the astonishing discovery that she possessed such a passionate and impulsive nature. This facet of her personality had never come to the fore during the course of her miserable marriage. She’d done all she could to avoid intimacies with her husband and wondered what madness had persuaded her to throw herself at Kincade with such wanton disregard for the proprieties.

  She stole a glance at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was watching her closely, presumably to gauge her reaction. She ought to make an attempt to quell the desire that still spiralled through her with devastating consequences to her equilibrium. But at such close quarters all she could think about was the sheer physical beauty of the man. She was mesmerised by the sight of his strong jaw, straight aristocratic nose, and eyes of a compelling shade of brown regarding her now with amusement, as though sensing her confusion. Dark hair flopped across his brow, and the lips that had so recently devoured hers with desperate-seeming passion were now curved into a smile that could melt stone.

  Damn him! Up until now he’d kept his distance. When he couldn’t avoid speaking to her he’d done so with an attitude of polite indifference that befitted a man addressing the woman who was rumoured to have scorned him.

  That had been just fine with Katrina. She could handle polite indifference. She was here as a favour to her friend, not to feel relentless attraction towards a man who despised her. That was what she told herself anyway, but her heart was having none of it. In a crowded room she always knew precisely where he was standing, to whom he was talking, what he was wearing. If his eyes happened to rest upon her for a moment or two, her pulse leapt wildly, her heart crashed against her ribcage and she lost all track of whatever was being said to her.

  Yea gods, what was wrong with her? Katrina had decreed that no man would ever rule her life again. She w
as a glorified seamstress with a questionable reputation pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She had overcome adversity and risen from the ashes of her previous life by the sheer force of her own determination. For the first time she was doing exactly what she wanted to do. What she excelled at. Nothing would divert her from that course. Nothing!

  This devastatingly compelling, annoyingly smooth Adonis was simply a dangerous distraction, tormenting her for reasons she had yet to fathom. But he was tormenting her, more successfully than he could ever know, and she wasn’t about to let him get beneath her defences.

  “Why, Leo,” she said, fussing with her sleeves as she tried to decide how Julia would respond. “What brought that on?”

  “I’m at a loss to understand it myself.” His tone was soft. His eyes lingered on her face. “And so soon after you left your husband’s embrace, too. I’m surprised you didn’t slap my face.”

  “So am I.”

  “And yet you didn’t.”

  “Slapping would imply that I attach importance to a brief, simple kiss.”

  Leo quirked a brow. “Brief? Simple?”

  “Certainly. We’re old friends. You said so yourself. Surely there’s nothing improper about old friends showing their affection.”

  “All your old friends kiss you like that?”

  “There was something remarkable about your kiss?” It was her turn to look amused. “Pardon me but I can’t say that I noticed precisely.”

  “Careful, Julia!”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve wounded your manly pride, dented your disgusting self-confidence, but really—”

  “Your husband is such a proficient between the sheets that my kisses no longer affect you in the way they once did.”

  “Precisely.” She couldn’t meet his eye.

  “And now, with my oafish overtures, I’ve ruined the memory of your short reconciliation.”

  Katrina couldn’t prevent herself from shuddering as images of Dupont’s lustful eyes briefly flashed through her mind.