Imposter Bride (25 page)

Perhaps Ramsay had decided to honor his promise not
to see her again. She felt oddly deflated, and sat back in the
coach, so no one would guess she’d been staring out the window.

The door opened and the short man slipped in.

“Good evening, Miss Hinds,” he greeted.

Sophie recognized the man from the day of the huge
snowstorm when the captain had taught her to dance.

“Good evening, Mr. Puckett.”

“You are looking for the captain?”

“Yes, it’s very important that I speak with
him.”

Puckett frowned. “Unfortunately, the captain has
left town.”

“Left town?” she cried.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Puckett asked,
leaning forward. “Is there something I can do?”

“Thank you for offering, Mr. Puckett, but it is the
captain I must see.”

“He went to Scotland. Left a few hours ago.”

“Scotland?” She gasped.

“Yes.” Puckett pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed
his forehead. “Please don’t think I’m prying, but is it the earl?”
he asked. “Has he upset you?”

“No, not at all.” She put a hand to her mouth,
wondering what she was going to do. “When will Ramsay be back?”

“Probably not for a month.”

“Oh dear.”

Puckett watched her, his face lined with worry.
“There might be a chance that a courier could catch up with
him.”

She nodded. “Yes, but I need to speak to him
directly.”

“Personal, then?”

“I lost something at his house. I need to recover it
by tomorrow. It’s very important.”

“Oh, I could help you with that.”

“But I think the captain might have the item.”

“And may I ask what it is?”

Sophie sighed, not sure if she should divulge the
object of her quest and wondering if she could trust Ramsay’s
assistant. He seemed an honorable fellow, and Ramsay certainly
entrusted him with his business affairs. She would have to take the
chance.

“I had a buckle. A diamond buckle. It seems to have
been misplaced.”

“Oh?” Puckett dabbed his forehead again,
agitated.

“I know it sounds odd, but it’s a matter of life and
death that I have the buckle in my hands by eleven tomorrow
morning.”

“Even if a courier was dispatched immediately, I
doubt you could make such a deadline.”

Sophie glanced out the window as her world closed in
upon her, suffocating her. What would she do now? The only person
who might have helped her had left the country. She had to procure
immunity somehow, or she would be dogged by the law for the rest of
her days. She had to ensure she was legally protected as soon as
possible by someone who could put Constable Keener in his place.
And that meant marrying Edward Metcalf.

The next morning at eleven, the earliest hour it was
proper to make a call, Sophie arrived at Blethin Hall, home of the
Metcalf family, the place where all her trouble had begun. She
found it ironic that she had been forced to return to the estate
and forced to look to Edward for help, now that Ramsay had left
London for Scotland.

Sophie stood at the front entrance, her entrails
knotted with anxiety. She had no intention of meeting the
constable’s agent at noon as planned, as it would have been
fruitless to hand over the substitute buckle. Instead, she had come
on an entirely different mission, and one that filled her with
dread. She steeled herself and put on a smile as the door opened to
admit her.

The Metcalf’s butler ushered her into the
underheated and overly ornate Blethin Hall. She had forgotten how
oppressive the house was, and especially now that she was worried
and upset. Everywhere she looked she was bombarded by red and
yellow chintz patterns, ornate Japanese vases, loops of fringe and
tassels, and swirling oriental carpets. She wondered that the
entire Metcalf family wasn’t a bit mad having spent their lives in
such a riot of color and pattern.

When Sophie was announced, Charlotte held out her
hands in greeting and gave her a hug.

“My soon-to-be sister!” she exclaimed. “How
wonderful to see you!”

“Did you enjoy the ball the other night?” Sophie
asked, struggling to make small talk.

“Oh yes! That mysterious Captain Ramsay was there.
Scandalous, wasn’t it?”

“I believe my grandmother likes to raise
eyebrows.”

“I think so, too!” Charlotte sat down in an armless
chair and spread her skirts around her. She was dressed in yellow,
which set off her dark hair. “Tell me, Katherine, what is the
captain like? He seemed too distracted to say more than three words
to me the other evening.”

“That’s the way he is. He’s a quiet man, not meant
for small talk.”

“But I like that quality in a man. And he’s so
attractive.” She poured a cup of tea for Sophie and lifted it her
way. “I have half a notion to invite him to tea. Do you think he
would come?”

Sophie doubted it. “He’s very busy, you know.”

“Does he have a mistress?”

“Heavens, how should I know!”

“You stayed with him all those days, didn’t you?
Surely you learned something!”

“He didn’t talk much about himself.”

“What about cards? Does he like cards?”

“He’s never mentioned it.” Sophie sipped her tea.
“And I’ve never seen him play.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll have Edward escort me to Maxwell’s.
That’s the club the captain owns, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Maybe tonight. I haven’t been able to think of
anything but that man for the last two days. I can’t tell you how
he makes me feel!” She waved a graceful hand in front of her face,
as if fanning overheated skin, and smiled. Charlotte was kind and
lovely, and Sophie had no wish to see her hurt. But she could not
tell Charlotte the truth about Captain Ramsay without doing him
harm. Even though she was angry with him for spurning her, she
still owed him a great deal. In fact, she would not even mention
that Ramsay was out of town, in case he didn’t want his absence
known.

“Some men have that effect,” she agreed. Then she
lifted her cup. “And I don’t mean to change the subject, but is
Edward home?”

“Yes, but he’s in a foul mood. I’d come back
tomorrow, if I were you.”

“Oh?” She glanced in the direction of the central
stairs, as if hoping to see through the ceiling. Her behavior at
Hyde Park had likely contributed to his bad humor.

“Don’t let Mother know I told you this, but he is
suffering a hangover. I saw him come home last night, roaring
drunk.”

“Poor Edward.”

“Poor Edward nothing. It’s his own fault.” Charlotte
winked. “Let’s hope marriage will rein him in a little. Men can be
so wild!”

“Can’t they.” Sophie took another drink of tea,
wondering what she should do. She simply had to speak to Edward,
and the sooner the better. It might be hours before the constable
decided to act against her. Or it might be a matter of minutes
after noon before he sought vengeance against her. She could waste
no time.

“Do you think I could see him for just a few
moments?” she asked. “I believe I hurt his feelings yesterday, and
it’s quite consuming me, the thought of him suffering on my
account.”

“Hurt Edward’s feelings?” Charlotte repeated, as if
the idea was out of the realm of possibilities.

“Yes. I couldn’t bear it if I knew I had caused him
distress.”

“You are so sweet, Katherine.” Charlotte put down
her cup. “How can I refuse you?” she rose to her feet. “Come, I’ll
take you to his room. It can’t hurt. After all, you are to be
married.”

“Thank you.”

Charlotte took her hand and led her up the grand
staircase to the second level. At the landing, she turned right and
walked along the passageway until she came to a partially-opened
door.

“Edward, you have company.”

“Go away!” a surly voice yelled back.

The two women exchanged glances, but Charlotte only
smiled again, accustomed to her brother’s cross nature. “It’s your
bride-to-be. Are you decent?”

“I said, go away!”

Charlotte pushed open the door. “He will be happy to
see you,” she said, giggling.

Sophie had no such command of her sense of humor.
She walked across the threshold, not sure what she should do. Sheer
desperation was the only reason she kept moving forward.

Edward lay on a chaise by a fire, a glass of water
at his elbow and a folded cloth on his forehead. He was dressed in
a morning coat of light gray, with dark gray breeches, white hose
and slippers.

Sophie approached him, still not sure what to say.
“Edward,” she began.

“Katherine?” At the sound of her voice he looked up,
and reached for the cloth on his head. He dragged it off as he sat
up part way. “I thought Charlotte was jesting.”

“No, ‘tis I.”

“Come to slap me again?”

“To apologize.”

“Really?” His cool gaze swept over her. “Why the
change of heart?”

“I don’t know what came over me yesterday. And I’ve
been a wreck all night, thinking how I must have hurt your
feelings.”

“Indeed?” he purred, his usual smugness
returning.

“Having time to think it over, I believe I was
frightened, and I simply struck out at you without quite knowing my
own mind. The past month has been a trying time for me, Edward. All
the changes. All the new people and places—”

“But you slapped me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for it. Dreadfully
sorry.”

“How sorry?”

“Very exceedingly sorry.”

“Well,” he smiled for the first time. “I admire a
girl who can admit she was wrong.” He held out his hand. “Come
here.”

She stared at his hand, sure she didn’t want to get
any closer to him, but knowing she must if she were to carry out
her plan. She stepped forward. He clutched her fingers and drew her
down until she sat on the edge of the chaise, her hips touching his
thigh.

“Can you forgive me?” she whispered, barely able to
stomach her own words. “Dear, dear Edward?”

“As long as you don’t do it again.”

“I promise.”

“Then seal it with a kiss.”

She looked down at his face, at his lazy blue eyes,
and marveled that he could harbor any passion for a woman, as he
seemed so bored with life. He gazed languidly at her, waiting for
her, a half smile on his lips, confident that she would grant his
request.

Sophie drew in a breath, forcing herself to play a
part she not only didn’t feel, but didn’t relish. Perhaps she would
get accustomed to this man’s touch, but she would never desire it.
She leaned closer, and he reached up to pull her head down to his.
He kissed her hard, his fingers clutching bunches of her hair,
trapping her against his mouth. She wanted to struggle, to push him
away, but she could not. She had to swallow her pride and actually
encourage him.

She caressed his face and allowed her bosom to
heave, guessing that it would arouse him. He reacted as she
suspected, kissing her throat and straining to press his nose
between the mounds of her breasts.

“You frightened me so yesterday,” she whispered in
his hair. “With your kisses, your ardor.”

“Because I am mad for you,” he responded, his voice
slurred. He struggled to push down the tight edge of her bodice to
get to her breasts, recovering with amazing speed from his
hangover. “I can’t help it, Katherine!”

“I don’t know of these things. I didn’t know what to
do.”

“Ah, love, I will show you!”

“But will it hurt me?” She pulled back. “I’ve heard
it will hurt.”

“No. Those are just tales to frighten young maids.”
His eyes looked feverish. “Wait a moment.” He twisted and jumped to
his feet, and strode across the room to shut the door. Then he
locked it and turned back to face her.

“You’ve been told lies, Miss Hinds,” Edward said,
pulling off his coat. “By dried up old governesses and prudes.”

“Truly?”

“It’s time you had a lesson.” He stopped near the
chaise and unbuttoned the flap of his pants. “Look what you do to
me, Katherine.”

He showed himself to her, and it was all she could
do to keep from turning away in disgust. Instead, she put both
hands over her eyes, and pretended to peek through her fingers.
“When it swells like this, it is so painful. You can’t believe how
painful.”

“Oh dear! What causes it?”

“Desire for you.”

“For me?” She lowered her hands. “What can be done
about it?”

He laughed. “Oh, delightful, Miss Hinds!” He caught
his lower lip in his teeth and looked down at himself.

She glanced at him and then back to his face,
knowing she had to finish what she started this time, and loathed
the thought of accepting this man as a lover.

“Come,” he said, reaching out to her. “Stand up for
a moment.”

She did as requested, and he sighed with pleasure as
he brought her against him. Though she could feel nothing much
through her thick petticoat, she guessed Edward felt a great deal,
because his breath stuck in his throat as he clutched her even
tighter. “Ah, that’s a good girl.”

He moved his hips as he kissed her, and squeezed her
and clutched her until he arched against her, gasping, “Your hanky,
your hanky!”

Worried about the tight insistence in his voice, she
struggled to pull out her handkerchief from the sleeve of her
bodice, and gave it to him. He breathed a string of profanities,
and then clutched the linen to himself, pouring his seed into it as
far as she could tell.

Then, panting, he collapsed upon the chaise, his
eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. Sophie brushed her skirts
into place while Edward lay there, spent, and didn’t even bother to
cover himself.

Sophie had never been as shocked or as disgusted by
a man’s behavior. He hadn’t said one romantic word to her, and had
used her womanly curves to arouse himself and find his pleasure.
The moment had been all about the fulfillment of his desire, and
nothing about her. She could have been anyone standing in the room
with him—anyone with a warm body and a pair of breasts for him to
fondle.