The Perfect Impostor Page 12

  “I can’t think what came over me,” he said, watching her closely.

  Katrina needed to get away from him and think. This was all going disastrously wrong. She was supposed to be learning to waltz, not dallying with dangerous peers who’d once known Julia well enough to be suspicious of her. She jumped to her feet, intent upon leaving ahead of him, but in two bounds he was by her side. “Let’s say nothing more about it. I ought to return to the house. Pray excuse me.”

  “Come then, I will escort you.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” She pulled the veil back across her face and inverted her chin, determined that he wouldn’t read in her expression the need, the almost overwhelming desire to confide in him. “Pray, don’t put yourself out on my account. I’m well acquainted with the route.”

  “It’s no trouble. Besides, we have to negotiate the fishing party. It will look strange if you return without me and give rise to awkward questions. You know how people like to gossip.”

  She puffed out her cheeks. “Even the men? I thought their sole concern was for the fish and the wagers that are doubtless going on regarding the catch.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Oh.” Katrina’s hand flew to her mouth, and her face warmed when she realised what she’d said. The men would be speculating about Leo’s intentions in respect of her. She searched her mind but couldn’t think of any way to put matters right so wisely remained silent.

  “Nevertheless, it would be as well if we returned together.”

  “I suppose you know best.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “And modest too.”

  “Modesty is for those with something to feel modest about.”

  “You really are the most annoying person. Have I ever told you that?”

  He chuckled. “Frequently.”

  “Then you’re clearly overdue for a reminder.”

  Still smiling, he proffered his arm. “Shall we?”

  She grudgingly placed her hand on it and they strolled in silence. She was determined not to speak, too embarrassed to know what to say after she’d all but thrown herself into his arms. She concentrated her eyes directly ahead, not once glancing in his direction.

  “Are you looking forward to Lady Marshall’s ridotto this evening?” he asked.

  That was a safe enough subject. “Indeed I am. I prefer the freedom of being outside to the stuffiness of a drawing room.” She glanced skywards. “And I believe the weather will be kind to us.”

  “Even the weather would think twice about defying my godmother when she has her mind set on an outdoor entertainment.”

  “So it would seem.”

  They reached the fishermen and paused to enquire how they fared. Apparently they were having tolerable luck but their morning’s sport was not yet complete. They had a wager to settle. Leo cast her a knowing look but she pretended not to notice. Grinning so broadly that she was seriously tempted to thump him, he led her towards the steps and the long gravel drive that would take them back to the terrace.

  “Have you yet explored the famous walled garden?” he asked her, waving a hand to indicate its location on their left.

  Katrina panicked. The walls were high but the meadow she and Celia planned to use for their waltzing practise was directly on the other side, at right angles to the orchard. They had been depending upon the wall to keep curious eyes away from them. Up until now it hadn’t occurred to Katrina that they might be overheard, thus arousing curiosity about their activities. She must warn Celia that the lesson would have to take place in absolute quiet.

  “No,” she said, “and neither do I intend to this morning. I still have a slight headache.”

  “Then we shall just have to defer that particular outing. But should you feel the desire for further exercise at some point, there is not only the walled garden to enjoy but also a series of natural ponds and even a pet cemetery.”

  She looked at him askance. “A cemetery for pets alone?”

  “Oh yes. Lady Marshall is very sentimental that way.”

  Katrina smiled. “Well, she is inordinately fond of her pug dogs. Oh my goodness,” she added as one of the young ladies crossed their path. “Miss Ainsworth really ought not to wear such bold checks. They do little to enhance her figure. A fine stripe would show her in a more flattering light.” Only when Leo glanced quizzically at her did she realise she’d spoken aloud.

  “I didn’t know you had an eye for such things.” He looked thoughtful. “Mind you, it’s a subject that occupies the minds of many ladies in your position and so I ought not to be so surprised.”

  “We’re not supposed to hold political opinions,” she said with a saucy smile, reminding him of their earlier conversation with Lord Ainsworth. Damnation. Only now did it occur to her that she’d slipped up again. “What else does that leave us poor females to talk about?” she finished lamely.

  “I can think of any number of things but since you’re still so upset about the departure of your lord, perhaps it would be unkind to remind you of their precise nature.”

  “You don’t usually let such considerations deter you.”

  “But I’m a slave to your finer feeling, Julia. You know that.”

  “What I do know is that you’re starting to annoy me with your innuendos.”

  “Which is nothing less than you deserve.” He bowed over her hand as they regained the terrace, a mock smile playing about his lips. “You ought to thank me for honing your skills as a flirt. You appear to be losing the knack. You were once a much stronger adversary.”

  She offered him an arch smile. “I’m a married woman now.”

  “All the more reason to flirt.”

  Leo’s attention was claimed by the archers, and Katrina seized the opportunity to escape. She couldn’t retrace her steps to reach Celia’s meadow since she’d be noticed from the terrace. Instead she slipped round the side of the house and wasted precious time taking a more circuitous route. She was out of breath and not in the best of humour by the time she reached her destination. Celia was seated on a low bench but stood when she observed Katrina approaching.

  “I had almost given you up,” she said accusingly.

  Katrina only just stopped herself from apologising. “I was unavoidably detained.”

  “Well, you’re here now so let’s start the lesson.”

  “Fine. What do I do first?”

  “Do you know anything at all about the waltz?”

  “Nothing whatsoever. I haven’t even seen it performed.”

  “It’s really quite simple but danced correctly it looks very romantic.”

  “Which is probably why it’s all the rage.”

  “Now then, the man takes the lady’s waist, like so.” Celia wrapped her arm around Katrina’s waist. “There should always be daylight between your body and your partner’s.”

  “So I should hope.”

  “On a crowded floor, of course, it’s possible for a gentleman to take advantage of his close proximity to his partner and hold her nearer than he ought.”

  “Another reason for its popularity.” Katrina blew air through her lips, wishing she could shake off memories of that damned kiss and concentrate. “All right, Celia, where do I put my left hand?”

  “On my arm, just below my shoulder. And then we grasp our free hands, holding them well away from our bodies. The waltz is a smooth dance, characterised by a rise-and-fall action. Your shoulders move smoothly, parallel to the floor, not up and down in time with your feet. Your head should turn in the direction you’re going whilst your partner’s is upright and looking over your shoulder. It’s his responsibility to avoid collisions with other dancers.”

  “Oh, I think I see.” Katrina grimaced. “What next?”

  “It’s series of three simple steps. I move my left foot forward on my heel and you move backwards on your right toe. Then we both come up on our toes. My hand in the small of your back ought to be strong enough to guide you in the right direction.�
�� Celia gave her a painful dig.

  “Ouch!”

  “Get used to the feeling. Any of the gentlemen who dance with you here will be sufficiently proficient to ensure that their signals lead you the right way. Our opposite feet do the same thing, and then we close up to meet them. That’s it. You have it already. You have just completed your first box step.”

  But the completion of the second was compromised by an inconvenient tuft of grass, and Katrina finished up on her backside, helpless with laughter.

  It was either that or turn tail and run.

  * * *

  Leo fired a few arrows at the target and placed them in a neat circle in the centre of the bull’s-eye, much to the chagrin of the younger men who’d been attempting to demonstrate their prowess without nearly as much success. He was pounced upon by the female element of the party who, egged on by their ambitious mothers, begged for personal tuition from such a fine exponent of the sport.

  Leo didn’t allow them to detain him for long, all the time keeping Julia’s double in his sights. She exchanged a few words with the older ladies, made a fuss of Lady Marshall’s awful dogs and then slipped away. At first he thought she might be following his advice and heading for the walled garden but the direction she had gone in wouldn’t take her there. She was walking with purpose, discouraging anyone from intercepting her, as though she had an urgent appointment to keep. Leo, curious to know what she was up to, extricated himself from the shooting contest and followed after her at a safe distance.

  He was still unable to decide what had caused him to kiss her. Who in the name of Hades was she? What dangerous game did Julia think she was playing, sending someone here to take her place, when she could never hope to get away with it?

  Except that she was getting away with it. No one here had expressed the slightest suspicion about her. Even her husband had apparently been deceived. And the woman, whoever she was, had been willing to go to his bed rather than be found out. Julia must be paying her a prince’s ransom to maintain the deception. Leo’s lip curled in disgust. How could he be drawn to someone with such a mercenary character?

  He’d get over that soon enough, once he’d bedded her. And bed her he would, if she wished him to keep her secret. She clearly wasn’t too particular, not if she was willing to entertain Dupont without any qualms. But all that could wait until a more suitable juncture. First Leo needed to discover her identity. He was convinced now that Julia was behind the jewel thefts, and the presence of an impostor here at Lady Marshall’s must have something to do with that conspiracy.

  Leo grimaced as he skirted the side of the building. In the distance, Julia’s impostor looked over her shoulder briefly and then disappeared beyond the walled garden. Following her, he came across a secluded meadow he hadn’t known existed, hidden from general view by a stand of trees on one side, the orchard and the walled garden.

  Leo stationed himself behind a stout oak and waited to see what would transpire. He wasn’t expecting to be interrupted and almost cried aloud when a hand fell on his shoulder.

  “God’s teeth, Boscombe!” He let out his breath in an angry hiss, unfisted his right hand and let it fall to his side. “What are you doing skulking about here?”

  “Keeping an eye on the maid, like you asked me to.”

  “All right, but what’s she doing?”

  Boscombe chuckled. “See for yourself.”

  Leo pushed some lower branches aside to see the woman impersonating Julia speaking to her maid in an undertone. She had tossed aside her bonnet and her hair, definitely darker than Julia’s pale blond, was tumbling across her shoulders where it had escaped its pins. “What the?”

  “Looks as though Celia’s giving her mistress dancing lessons.”

  Leo watched in stupefaction as the impostor tripped, collapsing in an undignified heap on the soft grass, convulsed with laughter. Celia tutted, her eyes darting around, presumably worried that her mistress would be overheard. She adjured Julia to control herself. The only effect that had was to make her laugh harder still. Leo sensed that the uncontrollable laughter was an outlet for her pent-up emotions and it was some time before she brought it under control.

  Celia waited, tapping her foot with barely concealed impatience as Julia wiped tears away from her face with the back of her gloved hand and struggled to her feet. Her skirts fell into place, robbing Leo of the enticing spectacle of her legs. She brushed down the back of her gown and made what was clearly a herculean effort to concentrate.

  “Are you all right?” he heard Celia enquire with a marked lack of deference.

  “Perfectly, thank you. Shall we try again?”

  Leo and Boscombe watched for a while longer. The woman tripped twice more but managed to remain on her feet on both occasions. Her technique was improving but, unless someone of exceptional skill partnered her at the auction tomorrow, she didn’t have a hope of passing herself off as an expert in the dance. He wondered at her desperation in even attempting it. What could possibly be so important that she would take the risk rather than make an excuse and leave?

  “Strange,” Leo muttered beneath his breath. “What else has Celia being doing today?”

  “Dallying with one of Dupont’s coachmen. James, his name is. Behind the stables, they were. Thought they were alone and right friendly they were too.”

  “Were they indeed.”

  “Makes you wonder, don’t it?”

  “It’s certainly an interesting development. Keep this James character in your sights too.”

  “Milord.”

  “Come, Boscombe, we’ve seen enough.” Leo grinned as Julia moved the wrong foot and mangled Celia’s toe. He neither liked nor trusted the maid and felt it was no more than she deserved.

  The two men moved back towards the terrace and entered the house through a side door. Leo was deep in thought about the woman impersonating Julia, mentally cataloguing the telltale signs that set her apart from the original. She looked very much like the marchioness, in that she enjoyed similar features and colouring and carried herself with the same innate sense of elegance. Leo had heard her speak with authority upon subjects as diverse as Greek mythology and politics, of all things. She was well educated and liked to keep herself informed. She was trained in the ways of society but not used to mixing within its ranks. Where Julia would put herself forward and never miss an opportunity to shine, her impostor tended to hold back and defer to others.

  Leo entered his chamber through the door Boscombe held open for him. The woman he’d seen this morning knew a very great deal about fashion but that was not so very unusual. Every lady of his acquaintance found the subject endlessly enthralling. But, unless he mistook the matter, the impersonator’s knowledge was more deeply entrenched. She knew something about design, and about the best way to cut fabric. He’d heard several of the ladies seeking her opinion in respect of colour combinations and accessories but thought little of it at the time. They instinctively understood what had only become apparent to Leo that morning when she made an absent comment about Miss Ainsworth’s attire. This tantalizing creature looked upon other women’s wardrobes with a professional eye.

  What did that say about her? Something important that had been nagging at the back of his mind ever since he’d first entertained suspicions about her. And it had to do with fashion.

  He was barely aware of Boscombe bustling about the room, attending to his duties whilst Leo ruminated upon the woman who fascinated him. Boscombe knew well enough not to interrupt him when he was thinking. And what he was thinking about now was the nature of the kiss they’d shared in the Japanese garden. The woman he’d kissed had never been in that garden before. Leo would stake his life on that fact. And yet Julia Dupont had willingly allowed him to virtually seduce her in it not six months before she became engaged to Dupont.

  Ah, that kiss! This lady’s lips were as sweet as summer wine, her response as natural and innocent as a virgin’s. The impostor’s kiss dispelled any lingering doubts
he might otherwise have entertained about her being Julia Dupont. And yet…and yet, she had willingly given herself to Dupont. Or had she? Anger propelled Leo’s mind away from his tangled reflections. It shouldn’t matter to him what the hussy was prepared to do to help Julia.

  It didn’t.

  “I was right all along, Boscombe,” he drawled languidly. “That woman isn’t Julia Dupont.”

  “Well she wouldn’t be, would she,” Boscombe said with irrefutable logic. “Not if she don’t even know how to waltz.”

  “Not just that. There are a dozen other signs.” Leo was conscious of a muscle leaping in his jaw as he battled to quell his disappointment. His anger. Whatever the hell it was causing him such restless malcontent.

  “And if you don’t know her well enough to be able to tell, who would?”

  “But that’s just the point. If I hadn’t turned up unexpectedly no one would be any the wiser, which is presumably why Julia got this other woman to exchange places with her.”

  “But Dupont didn’t suspect?”

  Leo suppressed a grimace. “Apparently not.”

  “Who is she then? Any ideas?”

  “No, but there’s something I ought to remember. Something about Coulton Court.”

  “Where Lady Julia grew up?”

  “There was something I recall hearing, years ago. Something about some other girl…” Leo broke off and slapped his thigh. “Damn it, why can’t I remember?” He sighed. “Never mind. I know someone who will.”

  Leo moved to his desk, reached for paper and quill and penned a note to his brother. “Ride back to town, Boscombe, deliver this to the duke and return with his reply at first light.”

  “What about tonight?”

  “I’m well able to dress myself.”

  “You think His Grace will know who the trollop is then?”

  “No, but I suspect his wife will. She was a close neighbour of Julia’s before her marriage.”

  “Why do you think Lady Dupont sent an impostor in her place then?”