The Perfect Impostor Page 2

  “And the black lace festoons would match my soul.”

  “Oh, Julia, no, I didn’t at all mean to imply—”

  “Darling, it’s fabulous.” Julia fingered the sarsenet with genuine enthusiasm, a distant look in her eye. “So divinely different and, as you say, a perfect match for my hair.”

  “Do you really like it? Because if you don’t, I can—”

  “It’s absolutely perfect. You’re a genius.”

  Katrina let out a long breath. It was finished—she and her two apprentices had worked long into the nights to ensure that. They’d sewn in the small workroom behind the salon until the candles burned down to nothing, the fire died, their eyes drooped and their fingers were so sore that they could no longer grasp a needle. But if Julia was satisfied with the outcome, then all their sacrifices had been worth it. “If you’d slip it on, we can adjust the length of those festoons whilst you’re here, and your maid can collect it tomorrow.”

  All that was required now was an adjustment to the elaborate apricot-and-black ruffles adorning the hem, set with jet beads and tiny black pearls. Low-cut, the gown defied the current trend by sporting short sleeves. It was to be worn with gloves fashioned from sheer black lace that came over the elbow. A modest spray of black and apricot feathers in Julia’s hair would complete the ensemble.

  Katrina was taking a risk in designing something so out of step with the rest of society, but Julia was one of the few ladies in London with the style, confidence and panache to carry it off. Besides, if she was to persuade other well-heeled ladies to overlook her humble address, then she needed to make her mark through sheer effrontery.

  “No, you put it on, Kat.” Julia sounded almost regretful. “I want to see the effect.”

  “But I’m a little taller than you. That’s why I couldn’t complete the length of the festoons.”

  “Only by an inch or so.” Julia clapped her hands. “Come on now, anyone would think you were ashamed of your handiwork.”

  Katrina grinned. “Oh, all right then.” She unfastened her plain muslin gown and slipped out of it. “Oh, Julia, if this gown works, you do realise what it could do for me, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do, but it’s no more than you deserve. You’ll give that horrible Celestine a run for her money. It’s high time someone did.”

  “Even I don’t aspire that high. Madame Celestine is established in Bond Street.” Katrina could hear the awe in her own voice. “She’s a living legend in the world of haute couture so I suppose she can afford to be moody if she wants to.”

  “She’s a fraud.”

  “Julia, how can you say that?”

  “Very easily. Even duchesses must bend their knees to her before she’ll deign to design for them. The woman is a positive ogre. Recently she charged me triple for a gown I required at the last minute. And her original price was quite outlandish enough as it was.”

  Katrina said nothing. To remind her friend that she would gladly have made the dress would be pointless. Diplomacy had never been Julia’s strong point.

  “No, darling,” she continued blithely. “I’ve decided to make you my protégée. You shall be the next Celestine, and I shall bask in reflected glory.”

  One of Katrina’s apprentices helped her into the gown.

  “Thank you, Julia.” Katrina knew her friend meant what she said. Whether she would follow through was another matter entirely so Katrina refused to get her hopes up. “I just wish there was something I could do to repay you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have got as far as I have.”

  “Nonsense, I…oh!”

  Julia stared at Katrina, unnerving her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong with it? Is it too daring? Are the colours all wrong?”

  “It’s simply sublime.” Julia dismissed the hovering apprentice with an impatient wave of her hand. “You don’t need to alter a thing.”

  “But the festoons—”

  “Are perfect for you.”

  “Julia, are you feeling quite the thing? You’re the one who’ll be wearing this gown, not me.”

  “Katrina,” she said slowly, fiddling abstractedly with the pretty tippet Katrina had been working on when her friend arrived. “Were you serious in your desire to do something for me?”

  “Of course.” Katrina wrinkled her brow, wondering what was wrong with Julia. She’d never seen her like this before. “What an odd question. But what can I possibly do for you?”

  “Well, you could attend Lady Marshall’s house party for me.”

  No! Katrina’s heart sank. Julia was asking that she impersonate her. “Have you changed your mind about going? Does Dupont require you at Court with him instead?” She tried to sound as though it didn’t matter to her one way or another. As if her whole future didn’t rest upon Julia’s presence at Lady Marshall’s. “I thought you were quite excited by the prospect of it.”

  “Yes, it will be diverting, I suppose, but I need a week to myself. I have something else I wish to do. Besides, I’m tired. I’ve been continuously on the go since my marriage and I need a rest.”

  “Are you…” She glanced significantly in the direction of Julia’s stomach.

  “Lord, no!”

  “Well then, tell Lady Marshall you’re indisposed and retire to your country estate for the week. No one will think the worse of you.”

  “I could do that but then Dupont would probably wonder what I was about.”

  Katrina frowned. “He isn’t attending the party with you?”

  “No, he’s ensconced at Brighton with His Royal Highness. The prince is receiving a deputation from India and they’ll keep Dupont busy for at least a week.”

  “He doesn’t need you there with him?”

  “No, thank goodness, it’s all high-level, negotiations about tea quotas or something equally dull. But if Arthur thought I wasn’t going to Lady Marshall’s then he’d insist that I join him.”

  “But, Julia,” Katrina said, panic welling up as she realised that her friend was actually serious. “How could I possibly pretend to be you and hope to get away with it?”

  “We did it a hundred times when we were children. We look so alike that no one could tell us apart.”

  “We played unkind tricks on your governess, it’s true.” Katrina grinned at the memory. “But we’re adults now. You’ve gone from being an earl’s daughter to a marquess’s wife, and I’ve progressed from steward’s daughter to struggling modiste.”

  “You won’t be struggling for long. That gown and my patronage will secure your reputation.”

  “Not if no one sees it.” Katrina immediately regretted the resentment in her tone. “What is it, Julia? What’s so important that you need a week alone to attend to it in secret?”

  “Oh, pray don’t ask me such a question.” She flapped a hand. “I’ll be tempted to confide in you if you do, and that wouldn’t be fair.”

  From which Katrina surmised the worst. Julia was already tired of her marriage and indulging in a clandestine affair. Arthur Dupont watched her like a hawk, even from afar, and Katrina didn’t see how she could hope to get away with it.

  “We might look alike but I don’t know the first thing about being a marchioness.”

  “Bah, of course you do! You’re a marchioness by nature and a fast learner to boot. Anything you don’t know you’ll soon pick up. You and I shared the same education but you were always a far more attentive student than me.”

  “Your father was generous in allowing me to share the schoolroom with you, even if we did cause poor Miss Tipping almost to have the vapours, what with our pranks and always pretending to be each other.”

  “Exactly. She couldn’t tell us apart and she saw us every day. You were even able to confuse her by laughing in the same manner as me. I remember you doing so to distract her when I wanted to dally with the gamekeeper’s son. You fooled her completely.” Julia’s smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “Can you still laugh like that?”

&nb
sp; Katrina could scarce believe what she was hearing. Julia was about to thwart all her ambitions, and expected her to laugh about it. “I gave up trying to be you a long time ago,” she said acerbically.

  “Try, Kat. Just for me.”

  “The last thing I feel like is laughing but, for you…” Katrina threw her head back and sideways in a fashion unique to Julia and let out a delicate peal of laughter.

  “Perfect!” Julia cried, clapping her hands. “You still have it exactly.”

  “Perhaps, but even so, no one will be fooled for long.”

  “Nonsense, I know who’ll be at Lady Marshall’s and I haven’t seen any of them in an age.”

  “You must have done. You mix with these people all the time.”

  “If I’ve seen them, it’s only been in crowded places. No one has much time to notice other people at society events. Anyway, I’ll give you chapter and verse on all of them and you’ll be able to carry off the deception with ease.”

  Katrina let out a short, nervous groan. “I really don’t think it will work. And if I’m found out, it will make terrible trouble for us both.”

  “Not only did my father allow you to share Miss Tipping but he set you up in this business too,” Julia said peevishly. “How many men would do that for the daughter of a mere steward?”

  “True and I’m indebted to him for that.” And determined to repay him as soon as she could. Katrina never intended to be reliant upon any man ever again.

  “And I have managed to steer a few customers to your door already.”

  “Please don’t think I’m ungrateful.”

  “You aren’t behaving with much gratitude.” Julia tossed her head resentfully, immediately putting Katrina on her guard. When she behaved like that as a child, usually because she didn’t get her own way, it signalled an impending tantrum. “I ask you to do one small thing for me and you put up all sorts of silly objections.”

  “You are serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Perfectly serious and I thought you’d jump at the chance. You’ll be able to relax for a week. Only think of that. You work far too hard and deserve some time off.”

  “Yes, but I don’t see how I can?”

  “And at the house party you can talk to the other ladies about your fashion designs much more knowledgeably than I ever could.”

  That, at least, was true. “Oh, Julia, you know I want to help, really I do, but how would we ever get away with it? For a start, I know nothing about your personal life with Dupont.”

  “Nor does anyone else.” Julia shrugged. “No one would be ill-bred enough to ask you for intimate details, and as for the rest, well, just make it up. Talk about the prince. That will give the busybodies something to chew on.”

  “I would need a maid.”

  “Celia will come with you,” Julia said without hesitation.

  Damn, Katrina thought she’d hit upon the perfect excuse but Julia was there before her. “Yes, but even so—”

  “She’s known you for as long as she’s known me, and we could trust her not to give you away.”

  “What about your coachmen?”

  “I’ve thought of that too.” As soon as Katrina abandoned her wholesale objections in favour of practical ones, Julia’s fit of pique gave way to good humour, as though Katrina had already agreed to the whole crazy scheme. “I shall be in the town house from now until it’s time to leave for the party next week. I’ll have my coachman bring me here to pick up some last-minute garment, we’ll swap clothes and places and you can go on with Celia.”

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

  “It is.” Julia glowered at her. “Tunbridge Wells is an easy day’s drive. The coach will stop just once to change horses at an inn, and a private parlour will have been reserved for me there. Or rather, for you.”

  “Julia, I’m simply not you!” Katrina cried in anguish. “You were brought up to mix with the best of society. I know how to behave in their company, thanks to you and Miss Tipping, but that’s as far as it goes. I don’t have your extrovert personality for a start.”

  “You’re not a flirt,” countered Julia, grinning. “Unlike me.”

  “Well, yes, something like that.”

  “There’s really nothing to it. Besides, I’m a married woman now, so if anyone remarks upon alterations in my conduct, that would account for it.”

  “Aren’t women supposed to flirt more once they’re safely married?” Katrina asked gloomily.

  “Since when have I ever conformed to anyone else’s expectations?”

  “That’s true but still, I don’t know—”

  “If you’re sincere in your desire to repay me in some small way you could make it work.”

  Katrina hardly considered her request to be a small one but refrained from saying so, aware that it would do her no good. “But we’re different heights,” she pointed out instead.

  “Bah, you’re barely taller than me. Unless we’re standing side by side, no one will notice, and probably not even then.”

  “Our hair’s a different colour.”

  “Oh, Kat, do stop making difficulties where none exist.” Julia spread her hands, clearly irritated. Presumably Katrina was supposed to have capitulated far more easily—just as she had when they were children, always following Julia from one prank to the next. “Mine’s only slighter lighter. These people will never remember. Wear hats with veils if it so concerns you.”

  It took another half hour of Julia’s persuasive charm, interspersed with pouting and thinly veiled threats about the withdrawal of her father’s patronage, before, full of misgivings, Katrina gave way. Just like she’d always done in the past when Julia required a favour.

  Just like she’d always known she eventually would this time.

  Chapter Two

  Sprawled in a chair in his brother’s library, booted feet propped on a stool, Leo Kincade pretended to be asleep. There was a half-drunk glass of burgundy in his left hand and a thick curtain of dark hair had fallen across his face. It remained there, disturbed only by the even exhalation of his breath. His eyelids drooped and a lazy smile curled about his lips, almost as though his mind was occupied with something erotically thought-provoking.

  Leo’s image of disinterest in anything other than the lady he planned to spend the evening with was deliberate. But he closely followed the conversation being conducted between his brother, the Duke of Carlisle, and the representative from the Cabinet Office seated in front of his desk.

  “Let’s see if I understand what you’re saying, Sanders.” Richard frowned. “Three separate incidents of jewel thefts have occurred within the past two months—”

  “Not just jewel thefts, Your Grace, if you’ll pardon the interruption. These were no opportunistic crimes but well-thought-out and professionally executed robberies. The pieces taken are beyond value, family heirlooms that are irreplaceable.”

  “And in each case they were stolen when the female owner was in residence at someone else’s home without her spouse there to lend her protection.”

  “Precisely so, Your Grace.”

  “And this would be of interest to me because—”

  “Ah, the Home Secretary asked me to bring the matter to your attention.”

  Leo opened one eye and directed it censoriously towards his brother. If he noticed, he chose not to react. If the thefts were somehow connected with Richard’s position as coordinator of a network of spies doing their damnedest to undermine Napoleon, Leo failed to see how. He was employed in that capacity himself and had just returned from an exhausting several months on the Peninsula, only narrowly avoiding detection whilst engaged in an especially delicate investigation.

  He was now anxious to dedicate himself just as wholeheartedly to a spell of hedonistic pleasures. It was no less than he deserved and so he hadn’t been best pleased when Richard called for his support in dealing with this official today. Grumble about it Leo might—and he had, most vociferously—but h
e wouldn’t disregard a direct ducal request. And so here he was. Why was rather less certain. He was relieved that the official was only concerned with jewel thefts. Richard wouldn’t require his involvement in something so mundane. Even so, he’d be glad when the wretched fellow got to the point and left them in peace.

  “What makes you suppose that these thefts are connected?” Richard asked.

  “We didn’t at first, Your Grace. They were only brought to our notice when one piece turned up for sale privately in Amsterdam.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  Leo and his brother shared a brief glance. This was starting to make sense now. He hadn’t been able to understand at first why such recognisable pieces were being targeted, but wealthy private collectors would go to any lengths to acquire such items, just for the pleasure of owning them, even if it meant they could never be publicly displayed.

  “A private auction was organised for the famous emeralds that until a month ago belonged to Lady Granger. We heard about it and arranged for officials in Amsterdam to intercede. Happily the items were recovered, but less fortunately the rogue behind the sale managed to evade capture.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Leo drawled. “He was French.”

  “Indeed he was, my lord,” Sanders said. “A well-known procurer of funds by dubious means to support Napoleon’s cause.”

  “How do you suppose a French ne’er-do-well was in a position to steal the jewels in the first place?” Richard saved Leo the trouble of voicing the same question, thus expressing more interest than it would be wise to display in a matter he fully intended not to become involved with. He was most definitely due a holiday.

  “You have me there, Your Grace. Lady Granger was at a ball held at the Duke of Bedford’s country estate. She was in residence for a sennight, as were a number of other prominent members of society. But there were definitely no French nationals in attendance.”

  “But I dare say Lady Granger’s sojourn there was public knowledge.”

  “Indubitably. The news sheets were full of it. What’s more, the ball was being held to raise funds for our injured servicemen.”