Dancing on the Wind (33 page)

"So you decided to take matters into your own hands, risking your life and liberty in the process."

"The best way to learn about Kira's life was to enter it—to become Cassie James and meet the people around her," Kit said defensively. "Since Cleo was the only one at the Marlowe who knew Kira had a twin, it never occurred to anyone that I wasn't the real Cassie James. I'd seen Kira perform often, so it wasn't difficult to pretend I was her."

" 'Not difficult' to pretend that you were the most exciting young comic actress to appear in London in years," Lucien murmured. "That must be a masterpiece of understatement."

"I couldn't have done it without Cleo's help. She told me everything I needed to know about the rest of the Marlowe's company and how to behave backstage. As for the actual impersonation, you were exactly right when you said that if Kira pretended to be me when she wanted to be ignored, I could pretend to be her when I wanted to be noticed." Kit smiled wryly. "I can maintain the illusion of being Kira for several hours, though it's exhausting to have to sparkle all the time."

He shifted position, causing his robe to gap distractingly open over his chest. "What about the famous tattoo?"

Kit forced her gaze away from the fascinating view of golden hairs dusted across his muscular torso. "I went to the same man who had done Kira's." She rubbed at the spot. "It's still a little itchy."

He brushed aside the hem of Kit's shirt and studied the butterfly that danced on her inner thigh. "I should have guessed when I kissed your tattoo and found that the design was raised slightly. Someone once told me that a new tattoo looks embossed, but I had forgotten." He traced the outline of the butterfly with a fingertip. "When I'm around you, my mind doesn't work very well."

That made two of them. His touch made her insides go hot and shivery. She inched away and tugged the shirttail over her tattoo again. Trying to ignore her acute awareness of her companion, she continued, "When Kira went on the stage, she cut her hair to shoulder-length to make it easier to wear wigs, so I had Jane chop mine the same way. I had a hairpiece made from what was cut off and always wore it when I was being Kathryn."

He grinned. "So if I had investigated your chignon, I would have learned the truth. No wonder you were so frosty that day."

"Kathryn is frequently frosty," she said at her most Kathrynish. In a normal tone she added, "It worked, didn't it?"

"So it did," he agreed. "Is Kira really left-handed?"

"No, she's right-handed. We're mirror images of each other—even our cowlicks go in opposite directions. I had to lie since you had seen me being left-handed when I was playing Kira. No one else noticed the difference."

"Leading two lives must have kept you busy."

"To say the least." She brushed her hair from her eyes. After the first shock of losing most of a lifetime's mane, she had found the lighter weight liberating. "I could never have managed without the help of Jane and Cleo and Mr. Jones. I moved back and forth between being Kathryn and Kristine, staying at whatever house was most convenient."

"Has your impersonation produced any results?"

She sighed. "Not really. I've studied every man who came near Cassie James, particularly in the green room after performances. I had hoped to see a false note or a shocked expression by someone who knew that I couldn't possibly be the real Cassie James, but had no such luck."

"Perhaps the man who abducted her hasn't been to the Marlowe lately so he doesn't know that Cassie James is still performing."

"That's what I think." A cynical edge came into her voice. "If the fellow had seen me and guessed that I was Kira's twin, I probably would have been abducted as well. My sister and I learned early that some men are fascinated by the thought of bedding twins. After my father's death, one of his creditors offered us a thousand pounds to lie with him."

Lucien's eyes narrowed into tigerish slits. "Give me his name and I'll challenge the swine. I'm quite a decent shot."

Kit blinked. "You mean that, don't you? No need. Kira responded by pouring a pot of tea into his lap. We thought it was a suitable response to the insult."

"I should have guessed that the two of you could protect yourselves."

"In the past, but not this time." She looked down into her glass and swirled the brandy. "It was a long shot that I would locate the villain by performing as Cassie James. That's why I began infiltrating the homes and gatherings of the Hellions."

"What exactly have you been looking for? Did Kira leave some telltale hint in her diary?"

"I'm afraid not." Kit slid from the bed, knowing that he would definitely not be able to comprehend her explanation. Mr. Jones and Cleo hadn't; even Jane didn't truly understand, and she had known the Travers twins since they were
born. "At first I wasn't sure myself, but gradually I realized that I'm looking for a… a kind of a psychic imprint—a feeling that a man has been very close to Kira. I feel like a hound casting about for a scent, except that what I'm looking for isn't physical."

"Can you explain that better?" Lucien asked, intrigued.

She hesitated. "It's a recognition of Kira's presence, I suppose. I've always been able to go into a house or shop and know if she had been there recently."

"Fascinating. Can Kira do the same with you?"

"To some extent, but not as well." She gave a lopsided smile. "It's strange—when we were younger and read far too many Gothic romances, Kira and I would make plans about what we would do if one of us was abducted by a wicked prince. In retrospect it seems prescient, though really it was only an imaginative game. We would swear to think hard about the villain so our twin would be able to recognize him for what he was. When we went riding, one of us would mentally choose a hiding place for a message and the other one would have to guess the spot. We both got very good at knowing what the other would do."

Lucien finished his brandy and put the glass on the night table. "Has your stalking produced results?"

"Not as much as I'd like," she said ruefully. "I was able to eliminate most of the younger Hellions right away. It's harder with the older ones, the Disciples. I have the feeling that Kira knew them all and didn't like any of them."

She began pacing around the chamber. "I came to Blackwell Abbey because I thought Harford might be the villain. I couldn't get a clear reading in the ballroom, so I agreed to meet him in his room. When I did, I realized that he wasn't the one. I'm sure he's met Kira, but I'm equally sure that he isn't holding her captive, if he had her, he would have reacted when I took my mask off."

"What about Lord Mace?"

"He's another chief suspect. I had hoped to find traces of Kira here, but I'm willing to swear that she never set foot in Blackwell Abbey. She was never at Chiswick's estate, either."

"The man who abducted her didn't necessarily take her to his own home."

"Too true." Kit rubbed her temple, trying to relieve the ache that came whenever she thought about her sister's disappearance. "There are far too many possibilities. Yet I don't know what else to do. Men as powerful as the Disciples can't be accused without rock-solid evidence, and I have none. All I have are my own instincts. And I'm terrified, because I have the feeling that time is running out."

"Your bond with your twin is the best tool we have," Lucien said thoughtfully. "We must find a way to utilize it."

She felt an enormous sense of relief at how naturally he had taken on her problem. Lucien would be a formidable ally. He also had a remarkable understanding of her connection with Kira.

Uncanny, in fact Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. "How do you know so much about twins?"

His gaze slipped away. After a slight, almost unnoticeable pause, he said, "I've always found the phenomenon intriguing, so I talk with twins whenever I meet them."

Now that she was not thinking about Kira, she realized that the current between her and Lucien ran both ways; just as he seemed able to sense her emotions, she had some understanding of his. And there was something here, something important… "There's more to it than that. Tell me, Lucien."

His eyes closed, and his face spasmed. Then, as unable to withstand her questions as she had been unable to withstand his, he said painfully, "I mentioned once that I had a sister who died. Elinor was more than a sister. She was my twin."

Kit stared at him, aghast. "Dear God, you had a twin sister who died? How did you bear it?"

"Very badly." His usual calm disintegrated, leaving his face stark and vulnerable. "It was like… being torn in half."

She sucked in her breath, then wordlessly crossed to the bed and embraced him.

His arms crushed around her, and he buried his head against her breasts, his whole body trembling. He did not weep. It might have been less dreadful if he had.

Over and over she smoothed her hand over his hair and the rigid back of his neck. She guessed that he had seldom, if ever, discussed his loss. She also had a strong sense that it was time that he did. When his grip on her began to loosen, she whispered, "Tell me about Elinor."

Slowly he pushed away and got off the bed. "Linnie was half an hour younger than I. I'm told that the doctor thought she would not live to see dawn, but she confounded everyone's expectations. We weren't identical, of course, but we looked very much alike, except that she was so much smaller that people assumed she was a year or two younger."

He drifted across the room, his bare feet soundless on the thick carpet. "My earliest memories are all of her. Always there, always smiling. She was quiet and looked so ethereal that she scarcely seemed to be of this world, yet she was clever and very perceptive. When we were four or five, I remember hearing her nurse say that Lady Elinor was on loan from the angels and she wouldn't be long in this world.

"I swore that I would prove the nurse wrong, that I wouldn't let Linnie die. I had a sixth sense where she was concerned—if she was in trouble, I always knew. When she was ill, I… lent her my strength. Once I bolted off my rocking horse and ran down the hall and caught her just before she could fall out a window. She had become careless while trying to lure a bird indoors."

He smiled a little. 'She always knew about me, too. Once when I was tossed by my pony and knocked senseless, she led my father straight to me. Other people thought that I was the 'dominant' twin, but it wasn't tike that. Though she was quiet, she was in charge. It was almost impossible for me to refuse her anything. She had a mischievous streak, but when we got into trouble, I always insisted that the fault and the punishment were mine since I was the elder. She didn't like that, but I couldn't bear to see her punished, so on that issue, I got my way.

"I thought that I could always protect her." He stopped at the window and parted the draperies with one hand so that he could stare out into the featureless night "But I failed."

"How old were you when you lost her?"

"Eleven." There was a long silence before he began to speak again. "My parents were indulgent, but they insisted on sending me away to school when I was nine even though I begged to be tutored at Ashdown with Linnie. Being separated was the most harrowing experience of my life. We were literally pulled out of each other's arms, both of us weeping hysterically. It was upsetting for my parents, especially my mother, but I was the next Earl of Strathmore and the Earls of Strathmore have always gone to Eton and that was that. I spent the first weeks at school crying every night, with Linnie doing the same at Ashdown. We wrote each other every day. I lived for her letters."