The Perfect Impostor (18 page)

But once again Celia had played her false. Katrina had wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole when she glanced down the stairs and saw everyone gathered there already. All heads seemed to turn in her direction, the ladies gasping, pointing at her and whispering behind their fans. She’d reminded herself that she was supposed to be Julia. Her friend courted attention and she could do this by pretending to be her.

Realising that her gown was a resounding success had at least given her heart. Ladies would be begging her for the direction of her modiste, provided she didn’t get unmasked as an impostor before the end of the night, which was very likely. Still, she must cling to the possibility of gaining some custom from this farrago.

She was aware—far too aware—of Leo Kincade watching her through eyes gleaming with unsettling intelligence. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement but she quickly turned her head, pretending not to notice. She was no longer angry with him. Her ire was now directed at herself for handling the entire situation so badly. Acute embarrassment prevented her from holding his gaze. Why hadn’t she opened up to him and accepted his offer of help? Only now when it was too late did she realise that if she was to stand any chance of surviving this night, then she would most certainly need it.

Here she was, agonising over her treatment of Leo when he’d clearly put her out of his mind. He was seated halfway down the table with Sarah Ainsworth. The two of them were laughing together with an intimacy that could only mean one thing. He’d already moved on to his next victim. She was on her own. He looked up and caught her watching him. Furious when she felt herself blushing, Katrina turned to the man seated on her other side and, with a dazzling smile, enquired after his family.

The meal came to an end and the rest of the guests assembled for the ball. Katrina was mobbed, every dance except the blasted auction waltz quickly spoken for. She didn’t care who she danced with, as long as it wasn’t Leo or Lord Gower, neither of whom had petitioned her hand. She ensured that she was never alone and couldn’t be coaxed out onto the terrace or to sit in a quiet anteroom to recover her breath. If she stayed in a crowd she was safe. Safe from Gower. Safe from Leo Kincade.

Safe from anything Amos might have planned for her.

The supper break came and went. She couldn’t have said afterwards whom she sat with or what subjects were discussed. She did recall giving her direction to a number of ladies keen to consult Julia’s modiste, too distraught to be relieved that they weren’t deterred by her humble address.

At Lord Marshall’s direction she took a seat at the side of the stage, shaking with nerves. She was barely conscious of the other lots being knocked down, of the raucous laughter and general air of carnival about the proceedings. Leo had yet to address a single word to her that evening and she was now thoroughly out of charity with him. She’d been unpardonably rude to him, that much she understood. But surely he realised the strain she was under. She glanced around, seeking his broad shoulders amongst the throng. She located him almost at once, even though she told herself she hadn’t consciously been keeping track of his movements.
Liar,
said the tiny voice of her conscience. She ignored it, just as she’d learned to ignore so many other things during this endless week. Needless to say he was deep in conversation with a lady, laughing at something she said, taking no interest in Katrina whatsoever.

Katrina straightened her shoulders and rose as Lord Marshall offered her his arm and invited her to join him on the podium. Damn Leo Kincade! She would get through this thing without even thinking about him. She didn’t need his help.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Marshall said to an instantly hushed room. “The highlight of our auction and the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The opportunity to share a waltz with the charming Marchioness of Lanarkshire. Er, with her husband’s prior knowledge and consent, naturally.”

Riotous laughter and loud cheers. Katrina ignored the colour that she felt creeping up her cheeks and smiled until her face ached.

“One at a time please, gentlemen. No unseemly fighting over this fair prize. Who’ll start the bidding?”

“Twenty guineas,” shouted a small man with bug eyes.

“My dear Lady Dupont.” Lord Marshall’s expression was scandalised. “Pray, don’t take offence. I feel sure the gentleman meant none in bidding so insultingly low.”

Katrina broadened her smile.

“Fifty,” shouted someone else.

“Come, come, gentlemen, I couldn’t possibly recommend to Lady Dupont that she grace the floor for such a paltry sum.” He spread his hands. “After all, I have her husband to answer to.”

“Seventy-five.”

“The lady is a fine exponent of the waltz. I’ve seen her myself and give you my guarantee.”

Katrina felt sick.

“One hundred.”

She was stunned out of her misery. That was a huge sum of money, even amongst these wealthy denizens.

“Remember that the funds are going to a worthy cause.”

The bids rose to an astonishing level. Katrina didn’t recognise any of the gentlemen making them, nor did she wish to. The moment had arrived when she would be recognised as a fraud, incapable of dancing a single step. It didn’t matter which of these men exposed her.

“Two hundred guineas!”

There was a collective gasp, part of which Katrina herself was responsible for. The bidder was Lord Gower, standing at the front of the crowd now, viewing her with an expression of naked avarice.

“Thank you, Lord Gower. At last someone shows true appreciation for the prize on offer.”

Katrina knew where Leo was standing but had stubbornly refused to look in his direction. Her eyes instinctively flew towards him now. If he cared to look he would doubtless see the terror in those eyes. He showed no reaction to Lord Gower’s bid and took his own sweet time glancing her way. And holding her gaze for a fraction of a second, as though considering.

For a moment she allowed hope to flare but he didn’t make a bid and it was as quickly extinguished.

“Are there any more, gentlemen?”

Absolute silence.

“Well in that case. Going once, going twice—”

“Five hundred guineas!”

This time the gasp became a roar and all heads turned to see who’d pledged such a massive sum. Katrina almost fainted with relief when Leo sauntered across the room, a half smile playing about his lips. Sarah Ainsworth grasped his sleeve and whispered something to him but he didn’t acknowledge her. His eyes were glued to Katrina’s face instead.

“She’s all yours,” Lord Gower said to Leo, shaking his head at Lord Marshall. “Hope she’s worth it,” he added in an undertone.

Katrina’s legs almost buckled beneath her when Leo took her hand, helped her down from the podium and led her onto the dance floor. It was already ringed several people deep with spectators wishing to see what Leo got for his money. Katrina suppressed a grimace. They were about to be sorely disappointed.

“Thank you,” she said to Leo as soon as she could find her voice.

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t deserve your intervention, not after—”

“Shush!”

“You didn’t need to bid so much. I can never afford to pay you back.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Then why?”

“There you have me.” He lifted his shoulders. “I wish I knew.”

The musicians, caught up in the drama of the auction, finally reorganised themselves and struck up the opening stanza of a waltz so famous that even Katrina recognised it. She gulped. Her mouth was dry, her hand shaking as Leo swept her into his arms and took it in a firm hold. The crowd applauded. The time had come.

“Left foot backwards,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know.”

He tilted his head and regarded her, amusement in his expression. “Do you?”

God’s beard, he seemed to know that she couldn’t dance. Did anything escape his notice? “Let’s hope it’s possible to fool all these people,” she said, giving up the pretence.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“I wish I shared your optimism.”

“Have faith, Tethys.”

“Hush, I’m counting.”

He chuckled. “Don’t. Just follow my feet and try to enjoy it. I won’t let you go wrong.”

His dancing was superb. She should have anticipated as much. She already knew Leo Kincade did everything with skill and precision. Why should this be any different? The hand at the small of her back guided her firmly into the steps and after a hesitant start her feet seemed to follow his without her having to move them. She felt as light as a feather in his arms. As though she could do this all night. The event she’d so dreaded was the first thing she’d truly enjoyed this entire week.

Well…she blushed as she thought of their activities that afternoon. Perhaps not the only thing.

“Relax,” he said. “You’re still too stiff.”

“I think you’re holding me too close. Isn’t there supposed to be more daylight separating us?”

“I just paid royally for the privilege of breaking the rules.”

Instead of easing off, he pulled her closer still. His thighs brushed hers as he moved his legs. The lapels of his coat were abrasive against her breasts. It felt wonderfully decadent. They still had the floor to themselves and so their eagle-eyed audience couldn’t help but notice their inappropriate stance. She simply didn’t care.

“Yes, but even so. People will talk.” She tried to sound disapproving. Judging from his devastating smile, she might just as well have saved her breath.

“People love to speculate. Talk of Julia and me will be on everyone’s lips for the whole of next season.”

“I’m very happy for you,” she said stiffly.

He merely chuckled again, swung her into a final spin turn and it was over. Everyone applauded. Leo kissed the back of her hand as he raised her from her curtsey. On a whim she pulled one of the black feathers from her headdress, ruining its effect but not caring, and handed it to him. He accepted it with a flourishing bow.

“To match the colour of your heart,” she said with a smile.

* * *

Amos, indistinguishable from the dozens of footmen in Lord Marshall’s livery, stood at the back of the crowded ballroom, watching Katrina sell herself like a common whore. He wondered how much these idiots would pledge for the privilege of dancing with her. It was all everyone was talking about in the kitchens but Amos hadn’t believed they’d be quite that stupid.

But it seemed he was wrong. Some fool had just bid one hundred guineas and Lord Marshall considered it an insult. When Lord Kincade offered five hundred, Amos’s mouth gaped open in shock. He watched Katrina as she circled the floor in the man’s arms, laughing up at him, for every inch the grand lady. He wondered what would happen if he stood up and shouted what he really knew about her. That he’d seen her pulling pints of ale and fending off wandering hands in Jeb’s tavern. That he’d seen her naked, spread-eagled beneath his brother, begging him not to hurt her and receiving a backhander for her trouble. Amos’s erection throbbed.
Soon, you little bitch, soon you’ll get what you deserve.

Still if these fools were prepared to pay so much just to dance with her, how much more would they pay for all the rest? He’d been planning to whore her out for a fraction of what this idiot had paid to hold her too close in a roomful of people. Everyone was watching, open-mouthed. News of this event would spread through the
ton
like wildfire and the best bawdy houses would compete against each other to buy Katrina from him. She was a goldmine. His future would be secure.

And so would his revenge.

Amos smiled, well pleased with his plans. Naturally, he still intended to muscle in on the proceeds from her thieving and to shake what he could from her aristocratic friend. All in all this was turning out to be a good day. He sauntered away before that tiresome butler caught him idling and found him something to do. His plans for Katrina had just changed but he’d have a bit of fun with her himself before he sold her on. After all, she wasn’t a virgin so what would one more matter? It was obvious whose bed she’d be warming that night. Amos glared at Kincade with unmitigated dislike.

“Enjoy her while you can,” he muttered under his breath. “You won’t get another chance.”

* * *

Katrina rather enjoyed all the attention after that. She felt that she’d earned it. Leo left her to others but she couldn’t be persuaded to dance, truthfully claiming fatigue. It was another hour before she could slip away. She half hoped that Leo would materialise but he was nowhere to be seen when she left the ballroom alone.

In the corridor to her room, a hand snaked out to grab her arm, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

“Don’t scream.”

A hand clamped over her mouth from behind her before she could react. A not-especially-clean hand. It was stained with tobacco and reeked of ale. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Amos.
He dragged her sideways along the passageway, opened the door to a large linen closet and pulled her inside.

“Just so you know what’s what,” he said, leering at her. “I won’t give you away but when you leave here, you’re mine.”

She was frozen with fear but knew it was important not to let it show.

“Nod to show that you understand.” When she didn’t move her head he tightened the arm he held round her throat, cutting off her air supply. “Nod!”

But she couldn’t do it. She’d rather die here and now than submit to her husband’s vile brother. His arm tightened some more. Dots appears before her eyes. She couldn’t see clearly and was about to lose consciousness. But still she refused to do as he asked.

“I saw you down there, making a right exhibition of yourself. Well, you can exhibit for me next.” He released his arm fractionally. “And don’t try to run. It won’t do you no good. I know where to find you.”

Katrina almost did faint when he reeled off her Basing Lane address.

“What are you doing here?” He shook her. “Answer me, you little whore. Why are you posing as your friend?”

“As…as a favour.”

“Don’t take me for an idiot,” he said, breathing fetid breath straight into her face. “I know you and your maid and her bit of rough plan to steal the duchess’s tiara.”