The Husband Trap (41 page)

Her twin shrugged. “Then you shouldn’t mind trading places with me again to prove it.”

Violet shook her head. “It’s out of the question.”

“Why? Afraid I’m right?” Jeannette taunted.

“No. I know you’re
not
right, and putting him through some secret challenge is absurd,” she dismissed, her words far more confident than she felt. “He’s married to me, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Perhaps not,” her twin drawled. “Still, if I were his wife, I’d want to know. Personally, I’d find it quite dreadful spending my life wondering whether or not my husband could recognize the real me. The doubt and uncertainty alone would drive me mad.”

Violet dashed a hand through the air. “Well, I need no such reassurances. Adrian has my complete trust, and as far as I am concerned, this conversation is at an end.”

“If you wish, but remember you can always change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

Shaking and half sick, Violet fled from the room. Down the hall, she found a chair and sat for a long time while she fought to compose her emotions. Only when her breathing was even, her body still again, did she make her way to bed.

Adrian was asleep. She removed her robe, the cameo she no longer wanted still fastened on its front. She slid in next to him, prayed he wouldn’t wake.

Moments later, his arm curved over her waist from behind, tucking her up against him spoon-fashion. He pressed a sleepy kiss onto her neck. “Sorry I drifted off. How long were you gone?”

“I don’t know, a while.” Violet wrapped a hand around his forearm, snuggled closer into his warmth. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” She closed her eyes, willed herself to sleep, knowing she wouldn’t.

“What did Jeannette want?”

Her eyes popped open. She forced her body not to tense at his question. “She…she gave me a gift.”

“What sort of gift?”

“A cameo. Carnelian. It’s quite lovely. Then she told me about her time in Italy. She’s…unhappy. Apparently Toddy Markham seduced her, then ran off with another woman. Some rich Italian widow, a contessa.”

“Scoundrel,” Adrian swore. “I don’t know how I could ever have considered him a friend. If he sets foot in England again, I’ll see to it he’s exposed for the bounder he is. A man like him shouldn’t be tolerated in polite society.”

“Luckily, no one knows she was involved with him. Please don’t mention to her that I told you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.”

A long moment of quiet fell between them.

“Anything else?” he asked.

She considered the question. Should she tell him? Reveal her argument with Jeannette? Divulge her twin’s irrational and audacious demand to trade places again so that Jeannette could be his duchess? No, it would only make him angry. He might confront her sister. Start some dreadful row that would do nothing but embarrass the family, make this visit between them impossible to endure. Better to remain silent on the subject, even if doing so seemed tantamount to a lie.

“No,” she lied in a small voice, “nothing else.” She waited to see if he would press her any further.

“Well,” he said, shifting position slightly behind her, “much as I’m sorry for her troubles, she isn’t blameless in the matter. Perhaps in the end this will prove to be a good lesson for her.”

“Yes, perhaps.”

He yawned. “It’s late. We should get some rest.”

“Yes, I suppose we ought.” She rolled onto her back, leaned up to kiss him. “I love you.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, already half asleep. “Love you too.” He tucked his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes. Less than a minute later, his breathing grew deep and even, overcome by sleep.

She lay in the dark, his arms secure around her. Yet try as she would, the unpleasant quarrel with Jeannette kept repeating itself in her thoughts. Was her twin right? Would he be unable to tell them apart if put to the test?

An image of Jeannette lying here in her place slithered into her mind. She banished the thought as quickly as it came. No, she assured herself, Adrian loved her, and only her. Hadn’t he already proven that through his actions, his words?

Still, the thoughts persisted, along with a twinge of doubt that wriggled its way beneath her skin like some vile, burrowing insect.

What if Jeannette was right?

Nearly an hour passed before sleep finally took her, troubled dreams chasing her through the night.

Chapter Twenty-three

Due to a bout of unusually warm weather, Violet decided to move the afternoon’s luncheon out onto the east lawn. Cloth-covered tables had been arranged to afford a pleasant view of the folly and the glassy blue lake beyond. The surrounding trees provided patches of shade, branches spread green and full with tender young leaves.

All the house-party guests had arrived. In addition to several family members—Adrian’s mother and two of his sisters, their husbands and children—several friends had driven up from London to join in the merriment. Adrian’s friend Peter Armitage was among their number.

Violet thanked him kindly once again for the use of his house on the first night of her and Adrian’s honeymoon. Green eyes twinkling, Armitage soon had her laughing and blushing over his saucy remarks. Eventually, duty pulled her away to make conversation with her other guests.

She’d considered inviting Eliza Hammond, along with her aunt and cousin, but feared it might elicit too many curious comments. It was an acknowledged fact that Jeannette and Eliza had never been more than polite acquaintances. Having her stay here at the house as an especial friend would raise more than one surprised eyebrow.

Then, of course, there was Jeannette. Expecting her, in her role as Violet, to pretend to be close to Eliza, was frankly expecting too much. And Violet had worked too hard to reestablish her friendship with the other young woman to let her sister interfere with it yet again.

A refreshing breeze was playing on the air when Violet signaled everyone to gather so the meal could begin. As she turned to follow, her twin exited the house and strolled toward them across the lawn.

Jeannette’s late arrival didn’t surprise her in the slightest. Her twin’s appearance did.

Their hair matched, swept upward in an elegant golden swirl, a few tendrils left to curl over each cheekbone. Worse, their gowns looked the same, or very nearly. The cut and style, even the color of Violet’s pale-hued, Pomona green dress was virtually identical to the one her sister wore. Yet worst of all were the missing spectacles. Without them, Jeannette’s ocean-tinted eyes sparkled like a mirror image of her own. The impish twinkle in her twin’s gaze the only visible distinction between them.

They hadn’t dressed alike since they were ten years old, when their mother had done them up for a party like a pair of matching china dolls.

How had Jeannette managed it? Violet wondered. Bribed one of the maids, perhaps? Watched out the window then run in a flurry to perfect an identical ensemble?

A harsh frown puckered Violet’s brow. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Jeannette smiled, a picture of innocence.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Oh, the wardrobe? I thought it would be fun.” Jeannette angled her head. “Don’t look now, but here comes Raeburn and his friend.”

Slowly, dread plucking at her like a restless set of fingers, Violet spun around. She stood, ranged shoulder to shoulder with her sister.

Adrian continued forward, a grin on his face. It faded as he drew closer. He stopped. Hesitated. The question of which sister was which clear on his features.

Violet smiled at him, warm and inviting.

Jeannette did the same.

His eyes swept over her, over Jeannette, then across her once more.

Silently, Violet willed him to know her, to pick her. But his uncertainty remained. She watched, aware he was about to make a decision. What if he made the wrong one? What if he chose her twin?

Abruptly, she stretched out a hand, stepped forward. “Are you hungry, sweetheart? The food smells delicious even from here.”

His relief obvious, he took her arm, looped it over his own. “Indeed it does. I’m famished.”

They strolled toward the tables.

Armitage moved forward to escort Jeannette.

“What’s she up to?” Adrian murmured once he and Violet were out of earshot.

“Just a prank,” she assured him. “It’s nothing.”

Yet the damage was done. Another layer of doubt planted in her mind like a well-watered seed. Just as Jeannette had intended.

Three days later, on the morning of the ball, Violet tapped lightly upon her sister’s bedroom door.

It opened a crack. Jeannette peered out.

“Are you alone?”

Jeannette nodded.

Violet pushed her way inside. “All right,” she said in a rush. “I’ll do it.”

Shutting the door, her twin strolled farther into the room, one golden brow arched high. “Do what?”

Violet squeezed her hands together. “I’ll trade places with you. But only for the ball tonight. When we come back upstairs afterward, everything will be as it was. I’ll be the Duchess of Raeburn again and you’ll be Lady Violet. Is that understood?”

“Oh, completely.” Jeannette smiled like a cat with a mouth full of feathers. “What made you change your mind?”

“I know Adrian can tell us apart. I just…I want this issue put to rest for good, that’s all.”

“And if he fails the test?”

“He won’t fail,” Violet said, her words emphatic.

If only she were truly that certain.

The ballroom gleamed with the light of a hundred beeswax candles. Lively strains of music floated on the air as couples swayed in rhythm to the tune the orchestra played.

Violet stood on the sidelines, the world in sharp focus through the glasses perched once again on her face. How odd it felt to wear her spectacles in public once more. How odd it felt to be herself again. Yet not herself.

This evening seemed like a dream. Or rather, a nightmare. From the moment she’d come downstairs, garbed in the lavender dress Jeannette had planned to wear for tonight’s ball, nothing had gone as it ought.

Most of the family had been assembled in the front hall, sharing a last few minutes of conversation before taking their places in the receiving line to greet arriving guests. Violet waited, quiet, nearly invisible again as had once been her way. No one noticed the change between her and Jeannette. Even Mrs. Litton crossed to consult with her sister about a last-minute detail for the party, completely unaware she was dealing with the wrong woman.

Then Adrian appeared, commanding all eyes as he descended the stairs. Proud and beautiful, he moved like some dark prince, resplendent in black. His linen—cravat, shirt, stockings and gloves—were snowy white; the only hint of color an emerald stickpin that winked like a large green cat’s eye on his perfectly tied neck cloth. One of her birthday gifts to him.

She laid a hand over the other present, nestled in peace and security inside her womb. She was certain now. Come winter, she would bring Adrian’s child into the world. His heir if it was a boy. The knowledge left her giddy with happiness and excitement.

As she cradled the wonderful secret to herself, she forgot for a moment what she had done. That she had exchanged places with her twin. Again.

Adrian strode forward.

She waited for him to come to her, to kiss her, his wife.

He passed her and took Jeannette’s hand instead, brushing his lips over her sister’s knuckles, a kiss against her smooth cheek. Jeannette smiled, murmured something that made him laugh.

Bile burned inside Violet’s throat, scalding and raw. He didn’t know her. After all they’d shared, everything they’d been through together, how could he not know her? How could he not see the truth staring at him from only a few feet away?

After that, the evening only grew worse.

The guests arrived, the party began, everything running like a well-wound clock. Compliments that should have been offered to her were given instead to Jeannette. Her sister beamed as boastfully as if she’d made all the arrangements herself.

Bitter, Violet endured, haunted by the knowledge that she’d brought all this down upon herself. She should never have let Jeannette talk her into making the exchange. Never have allowed her sister to stir up doubts and insecurities and coax her into this foolish trade. But she’d needed to satisfy her curiosity.

Now it was satisfied.

Adrian had failed.

Her husband and sister whirled by, arm in arm. Jeannette looked elegant and vivacious in the golden gown Violet was supposed to have worn tonight. And Adrian, dearest Adrian, the man she loved more than life, was clueless, duped once again.

Unable to watch any longer, she turned and rushed from the ballroom.

Something wasn’t right, Adrian thought.

All evening, a troubling undercurrent had been humming inside him. An uneasy awareness that made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickle at odd intervals.

On the surface, the ball was everything it should be. A magnificent venue crowded with convivial guests enjoying themselves as they ate, drank, danced and conversed with one another. Initially, he’d had reservations about hosting the house party and ball, but Violet had come through, doing a thoroughly splendid job. Lady Jersey, or any of Society’s other patronesses, could not have done better.