The Perfect Impostor (14 page)

“You appear to have a number of admirers competing for your attentions, Julia,” he remarked in an undertone. “How very awkward for you.”

“I’d hardly call it that.”

“What, you don’t find it awkward?” He flashed a sapient grin completely devoid of humour. “No, I don’t suppose you do. You always did enjoy the chase.”

“That is not what I meant at all.” Katrina felt a deep blush creeping up her cheeks. “I merely wished to point out that you’re mistaken. I am not pursued by legions of men and nor should I be since I’m married.”

“Dowling is quite smitten, you know.” Leo continued baiting her as though she hadn’t interrupted his flow. “Few ladies take such a keen interest in his dull Scottish affairs. But if Dowling is too advanced in years for your taste then Chester and Nugent are both slavelike in their adoration.”

The Lord Kincade who had kissed her, almost against his will, was gone. She was left with a hectoring replacement apparently determined to do all in his power to overset her. Katrina was equally determined that he wouldn’t succeed.

“And then there’s Gower, of course,” he continued in a deceptively mild manner, “sniffing round your skirts like a dog in heat.”

“What a charming turn of phrase you have, my lord.”

He chuckled. “You bring out the best in me, Julia, but then you always did.”

“How fortunate.” Katrina was almost enjoying bandying words with him, even though she knew she was playing a dangerous game. One she was unlikely to win.

“And we mustn’t forget your loving husband, to say nothing of myself. I am, as always, your most devoted admirer.”

“Oh, be quiet!” she snapped.

Leo looked thoroughly pleased to have discomposed her. “Too much to deal with, sweet Julia?” he suggested in an undertone.

“You are quite insufferably arrogant, do you know that?”

Fortuitously the lady on Leo’s opposite side claimed his attention at that moment, affording Katrina the opportunity to calm down. She made a point of speaking to him as little as possible for the remainder of the meal, which passed in a blur. She was unaware of what she ate, only vaguely conscious of consuming more wine than she was accustomed to. When the covers were removed, a group of tumblers performed astonishing acrobatic feats that temporarily diverted her. She gasped when they made a human pyramid, convinced that those at the base would be unable to support the weight of the upper tiers as the structure grew to impossible heights. A young girl cartwheeled onto the terrace and flipped over and over, upwards over outstretched arms until she reached the summit. Katrina cried out in alarm, terrified that she would fall. She was so preoccupied, she barely noticed that Leo’s arm had worked its way along the back of her chair and his long fingers were absently playing with strands of her hair.

“How do they do it?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the completed pyramid as she joined enthusiastically in the applause.

“They are travelling gypsies. They train from the moment they can walk. It’s how they make their living.”

“I’ve never seen its like before,” she said, awe in her voice as the performers gracefully tumbled to the floor.

Leo cast her a look of mild scepticism. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, not for a while.” Katrina belatedly realised that this entertainment would be nothing out of the ordinary for Julia. Indeed, looking around she could see that the rest of the party was entertained. But none of them had given the act their full attention in the way she had.

Leo flicked a coin to the troupe’s leader. He caught it in midair, bowed low to Katrina and tumbled off the terrace in one fluid motion.

Fire eaters defied belief with their performance.

“How do they not burn their mouths?” Katrina asked, her eyes wide with anxiety.

“They most likely do suffer some discomfort but they certainly don’t ingest fire.”

“Then how?”

“It’s mostly illusion. They appear to swallow the fire and you believe they’ve done so because it’s what you’re expecting to see. In actual fact they’re blowing it away.”

“Even so, I still think they’re very brave.”

She laughed aloud as several young men walked onto the terrace bent back on themselves. They were contortionists, she realised, and resisted asking Leo how they managed to walk with their feet behind their ears.

“They look as though they’re made of India rubber,” she said, entranced. “Do they have
any
bones in their bodies?”

Leo chuckled. “Only rubber ones.”

A fiddler struck up a lively jig. Some of the younger people stood up to dance and others drifted from their places, rejoining friends they’d been separated from during the meal.

“Can I persuade you to dance?” Leo asked.

“No, I think not.”

“Then come.” He stood, offering her his hand, but she hesitated. “You won’t be left to yourself if you remain here.” He nodded towards Gower heading in their direction and wearing an expression of stark determination.

“Very well.” If it was a choice between Gower and Kincade, she didn’t need to stop and consider. Both were dangerous. Only one of them, she sensed, would remember that he was a gentleman.

Before Gower could reach the lady he thought was Julia, Mrs. Nugent called upon him to settle a disagreement between her and Lady Ainsworth. There was nothing he could do but submit to her request with suave affability but he shot Leo a furious look as he did so. Leo responded with a mock salute and spirited the impostor away. He took a path on the opposite side of the house to that commonly used by the guests. It led to a deserted courtyard few people knew existed, close to the servants’ quarters. They were almost guaranteed privacy here.

Leo struggled to understand why he was so keen to save the impostor from her own folly. Perhaps it was her vulnerability, the vicarious thrill of the lie she was struggling to maintain that was pushing aside all sense of reason and compelling him towards gallantry. There was also an urgent needed to discover why she was impersonating Julia Dupont. That, at least, gave him a legitimate reason for taking such a keen interest in her.

Except that he was deceiving himself.

Had she really been Julia, Leo’s interest would not have extended beyond her involvement, or otherwise, in the perpetration of the thefts. He no longer felt anything for her except contempt, and she could easily have fended off Gower without any assistance from him. The creature whose hand now lay on his arm, confusion and anxiety competing for dominance in her expression, was altogether another matter. Leo prided himself upon being an excellent judge of character and his sixth sense told him that she was a pawn in some game of Julia’s devising, so deeply entrenched in her look-alike’s web of deceit that she didn’t know how to extricate herself. Perhaps she was being blackmailed. Leo wouldn’t put anything past Lady Dupont.

But, he reasoned as they strolled along the increasingly darkened, totally deserted walkways, she had to have entered into that game willingly, which ruled out blackmail. She was so anxious not to give herself, or Julia, away that she’d even shared a bed with the Lord Dupont.

What rewards had Julia offered to persuade her? And why had the marquess not realised? He wasn’t the brightest spark in the tinderbox but surely even he could distinguish between his wife and other women when it came to matters between the sheets.

As Leo mulled the matter over, the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. He was entrusted to get to the bottom of an audacious plot to steal a duchess’s tiara and instead had become obsessed by the woman who ought to be his primary suspect. He urgently needed to uncover her true identity, if only to exonerate her. She might be many things but he’d wager his fortune on her not being a thief. More a convenient means to an end for the real perpetrator of the crimes.

Julia.

He lived in expectation of Boscombe returning with information that would reveal her impersonator’s name but, irrationally, it was important that she trust him enough to tell him of her own volition. Perhaps that was why he’d contrived this opportunity to get her alone.

Then again, perhaps he simply wanted to kiss her.

The pretty gravelled courtyard was not overlooked by any of the main rooms in the house. The only windows with a view of this area were situated in the vicinity of the butler’s pantry. Leo doubted whether the formidable Dawkins would be in possession of his room when his master had a house full of guests and responsibility for their comfort rested on his shoulders.

A little light from the flambeaux on the terrace filtered through to the courtyard. It illuminated flower borders filled not with the exotic plants that graced the main gardens but lavender, heather and honeysuckle. They’d been left to ramble more or less as they pleased, their fragrant scent mingling with the night air like an unfulfilled promise. Water tinkled in a fountain in the centre of the courtyard. Diffused light reflected a rainbow of colours as the spouts tumbled into a rocky base at waist height, splashing over the edges as they disappeared from view.

“Oh!” There was delight in her eyes and some of the tension left her body. “This is lovely. Where are we?”

“Close to the kitchen gardens.”

He steered her to the fountain and trailed his hand through the water. He cupped a few drops in his palm and held them up to her mouth, wondering what she would do. After a slight pause she bent her head and lapped delicately with the tip of her tongue. The gesture, so innocent and uncontrived, sent a bolt of pure lust ricocheting through his body.

“But how can we get back into the house from here?” she asked, her tongue protruding again as she removed the remaining moisture from her lips.

He watched it in rapt fascination for several seconds before he was able to find his voice. “We shall pretend to be servants and slip in the back way, which will ensure your safety from those who pursue you.”

“Will it?” She tilted her head to one side and assessed him with a wary expression.

Leo couldn’t afford to delay and wondered why he was letting emotion take precedence over his sworn duty. She leaned against the base of the fountain, a spray of water landing on her hair without her seeming to be aware of it. She looked at him, a question in her eyes. All the clever words he’d been planning to persuade her to trust him evaporated in the face of the reckless sensuality in her expression, so at odds with the sophistry Julia
always
maintained. A deeply disturbing jolt rocked his senses as, with a strangled oath, he pulled her towards him and kissed her.

He captured her mouth with hungry urgency, exhilarated when, after a brief moment of passivity, her lips parted and her body melted against his as naturally as though they’d done this a thousand time before. His tongue foraged her mouth in a deep swirling action as he absorbed her essence into his very cells.

His nameless companion stirred in his arms, only to remould herself more closely against the length of him. The depth of her emotional investment in their embrace, the enthusiasm with which she rather ineptly returned his kiss, caused his spirits to soar.

She wanted him with an urgency that matched his own. There was no denying this sort of passion.

Leo’s hands drifted down her back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on the exposed parts of her skin. She opened her eyes wide and shivered violently, although Leo knew she wasn’t cold. She made no move to stop him when his hands closed around her derrière, pulling her harder against him so that she could feel the full state of his arousal. She moaned softly as her eyes fluttered to a close. Then, appearing to collect what she was doing, they flew open again. She twisted her lips away from his, gasped and attempted to step away.

But Leo wasn’t ready to let her go.

“Who are you?” He whispered the words against her ear, soft and seductive, his hands still resting on her bottom.

“What do you mean?” Her eyes darted towards his face like a trapped animal desperately seeking a means of escape. “You know who I am.”

“Do I?” He tried to observe her face but she’d already turned it away from him and, anyway, the light was too dim for him to be able to interpret her expression. He was left with an impression of those huge eyes, larger than ever as passion and anxiety waged war within their depths. He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right. But he’d never been one to make promises he might not be able to keep. “Will you not trust me, little one? You’re in trouble. I can sense it. And you need someone to help you.”

“No, you’re quite wrong. I—”

Leo sighed, his breath softly peppering her face. “Can’t you sense that I only want to help? Had it been otherwise I would have given you up long before.”

“Or tried to seduce me in return for your silence.”

He inclined his head. “I could certainly have done that.” He paused, holding her gaze. “But the thought didn’t cross my mind.”

“But you still might.”

“Do you really have such a low opinion of me?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know you well enough to be able to judge.”

“Tell me why you’re really here.”

She expelled a long breath, no longer pretending that she didn’t understand him but clearly not willing to place her trust in him. Yet.

“I can’t,” was all she said. “It’s not my secret to tell.”

The anguish in her voice, the cataclysm of conflicting emotions reflected in her expression, tore at his heart strings. This girl was in urgent need of his services, and he would do whatever it took to make things rights for her. He didn’t yet know why, or how, he would achieve that ambition but was unable to turn his back on it. On her. Even if that meant the welfare of the duchess’s jewellery was no longer uppermost in his mind.

“Come here.”

If he couldn’t persuade her with words then he’d find another way. She hesitated and he put no further pressure on her. His hands were still resting on her bottom but he didn’t use them to compel her, and it was she who eventually made the next move. She almost fell against his chest as a strangled sob vibrated through her body.

“I want to trust you.” She lifted anguished eyes to his face. “I can sense that you’re a gentleman of his word but that’s not enough. You can’t help me.” She shook her head against his chest. “Nobody can.”

“I ought to feel insulted that you put so little faith in my abilities,” he said with mock severity.

She glanced up at him, her eyes flooding with tears. His heart swelled as he arrested the progress of one before it could trail its way down her cheek. Then he dropped his head and kissed her again. He invested that kiss with every last vestige of the searing, searching passion that gripped him, endeavouring to persuade her in a fashion that required no words. At the same time he brought his hands slowly back up to her shoulders, pushing the flimsy straps of her gown aside. If she noticed she made no attempt to stop him. With her bottom perched on the edge of the fountain, he broke the kiss and slowly peeled her bodice away.

Leo had never seen a more erotic sight. This lovely creature wore no corset and sat passively while a film of water soaked her chemise, flattening it against her skin and exposing pert, rock-hard nipples through the thin material. Her face was a study of surprise and innocence as she looked up at him as though in a trance and made no move to cover herself. He bent his head and suckled one nipple through the fabric. She responded with a series of guttural moans as her fingers coursed their way through his hair. It was almost his undoing, mainly because her unbridled passion appeared to surprise her almost as much as it did him.

Leo took his time, even though he knew it was risky. He simply couldn’t help himself. At any moment she might remember who she was supposed to be. She certainly wouldn’t agree to go to his chamber, and he could hardly invade hers without encountering her maid. Or rather Julia’s maid. The thought made him pause, causing a small exclamation of displeasure from his nameless companion.

Julia’s maid. He’d briefly forgotten about her. What part did she play in all this? But thoughts of any females left his head when he felt cold water slipping down his chest and soaking his shirt.

“What the…”

The sound of her musical laughter echoed round the courtyard. Not Julia’s laughter but a mischievous explosion of pleasure that was entirely her own.

“It seems only fair,” she pointed out reasonably. “After all, I’m already quite soaked through.” She stood and patted the back of her gown to demonstrate her point.

But Leo wasn’t about to back down just because of a little water in inconvenient locations. He picked her up and placed her more firmly still in the fountain. “In that case, I see no occasion to return to the house.”

Leo leaned towards her. Water cascaded over his head and dripped from the ends of his hair, falling onto her bare bosom. It was the most erotic situation he could ever recall and too late—far too late—to examine the wisdom of his actions. It would be as hard to end matters as it would be to put a name to the woman in his arms. He contrived to imagine some of the horrors he’d witnessed during his travels through war-torn Spain but it was insufficient to dampen his ardour. He sighed, waiting for his tumescence to subside in the vain hope that his common sense would be restored to him. It didn’t appear to be happening.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, running a finger lightly across one of her breasts. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

She paused for so long that he thought she was about to confide in him. Instead she gave herself up to his attentions with a wholeheartedness that drove all other thoughts out of his head. She threw her head back, directly into the path of the spouting water. He sucked a swollen nipple into his mouth, nipping gently at its pebble-hard surface, agitating the areola with the tip of his tongue as his hands moulded and caressed her breasts.

She leaned back even farther, pushing her groin closer to his, all inhibitions abandoned. For one exquisite moment he held that pose, even as it brought him to his senses. He couldn’t afford to let matters progress.

Not here. Not now.

He wouldn’t have her until she’d revealed her true identity and placed her complete trust in him. Nothing less would do. He stifled a sigh, broke their last passionate kiss and pulled her clear of the water.

“Your neckcloth is quite ruined,” she told him in a dazed voice, not meeting his eye.

“My valet will likely give notice.” Smiling, he kissed the end of her nose. “Will you trust me now, my little Tethys? I’ve ruined my neckcloth and risked losing the services of a first-class valet for your sake. You owe me something in return.”

“Tethys? The goddess of the sources of fresh water?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “A very apt description.”

She glanced down at her naked, damp torso, shook her wet head and smiled. “The wife of Okeanos. I’d quite forgotten about her.”

Her response activated the small part of Leo’s brain still capable of rational thought. If this woman knew her Greek mythology, then she was obviously well educated. But far from solving the riddle of her identity, this discovery merely muddied the waters.

The sound of raucous voices coming from the servants’ hall startled them both. Perhaps Marshall had arranged for a keg or two of ale to be provided by the local inn, for them to make merry now that they’d attended to the gentry. That wasn’t unusual. He’d often wondered how servants coped with a full household and still found the energy to enjoy their own entertainments. If the increasingly riotous sounds reaching the courtyard were anything to do by, Marshall’s contingent had mastered the art.