“Lord Metcalf,” he said, sweeping a low bow over the hat he pressed to his breast.
“Constable. I trust this is important.”
Keener rose, smiling, and his gaze shot back in Sophie’s direction. “Oh, it ‘tis, it ‘tis. I’ve come all the way from London with your interests in mind.”
“Miss Hinds,” he purred, sweeping her a bow as well.
“Aren’t you a bit out of your jurisdiction?” Edward drawled. Sophie wondered if Edward thought the constable had come to Highclyffe to stop the wedding on legal grounds, instead of his real purpose, about which Edward knew nothing.
“I am. But you will find my efforts well worth the trip.”
“Get to the point, man! I’m tired. I’ve a wedding to go to in the morning.”
“Perhaps not, your lordship.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t stop us. We’re in Scotland!”
“You won’t want to go through with it, sir. Not when you’ve heard what I have to say.”
Sophie wrapped her hands around Edward’s upper arm. “His lordship is in no condition for this, constable.” She urged Edward to turn around. “Come, Edward. You need to get some sleep.”
“Fie on you!” Keener cried. “Imposter!”
“What’s that?” Edward veered forward, almost losing his balance. “What d’you just say?”
“She’s an imposter, your lordship. I have proof!”
“What?” Edward gaped at the constable, swung around to stare at Sophie, and then turned back to the man in black.
“That’s right. She’s an imposter. I’ve been trailing her for weeks while she pretended to be someone she is not. Thought you’d bested me, didn’t you, girl?”
“Surely you are joking, sir,” Sophie retorted coldly. Then she squeezed Edward’s arm and rose on tiptoe to speak quietly in his ear, knowing the effect her warm breath would have on the sensitive skin there. “Edward, let’s go to bed.”
“Fie!” Constable Keener gripped his staff more tightly and gave it a shake. “She’s bewitching you! Do not succumb, your lordship!”
Edward gazed down at her, a crooked smile on his lips but a very dull look in his eyes. In his inebriated condition, she could easily take him to bed without any compromising consequences, should it come to that.
“Tell him to go away, Edward,” she implored. “Please.”
Incensed, Constable Keener whirled around and lunged for the shadows where he grabbed the other figure and pulled her into the light. Sophie glanced at her, amazed to see the squat dark form of Agnes Preston, her former mistress’ governess. Keener clutched her by the wrist and dragged her forward. Sophie stared at her in shock. Hadn’t Agnes died in the fire? Where had she been all these weeks?
“Is it her?” Keener demanded, waving his hand before Sophie.
Aware that her future hung on this single moment, Sophie held her breath and gazed down at the woman, striving to keep a flush from sweeping across her face.
Agnes curled her lip and stared at Sophie, from her tousled hair to the tip of her walking boots.
“She’s changed, she has. But I’d recognize the twit anywhere.” She smiled, triumphant and haughty. “It’s her all right.”
“See!” Constable Keener cried.
“What in the deuce is this all about?” Edward demanded. “Who is this person?”
“This person,” Keener explained, motioning toward his small companion. “Is Katherine Hinds’ governess. The real Katherine Hinds’ governess.”
“What in blazes are you getting at?”
“I’m protecting you, your lordship. After weeks of investigation, I finally found Katherine Hind’s governess. She’s been afraid to come forward, as she ran off the night of the fire with a furniture maker, and thought she would be in trouble with her mistress.”
“We hardly care about this woman’s employment difficulties,” Edward drawled.
“Yes, but you should care about the woman you intend to marry.” Keener ran a hateful glance over Sophie. “She’s a liar, a thief, and a murderess!”
“She’s a maidservant!” Agnes sneered, shaking her head at Sophie, scolding her with her eyes. “With some nerve!”
“You’re mad!” Edward sputtered.
“My mistress died in the fire,” Agnes put in. “According to the constable here, they recently found her locket, the one she was wearing that night, on a badly burned corpse under all the rubble.”
“Impossible!”
“This one,” Agnes pointed rudely at her, “is nothing but a little cheat.”
“Put in your path by Ian Ramsay,” Constable Keener added.
Sophie felt Edward stiffen, coming to attention at last. “Did you say Ramsay? Ian Ramsay?”
“Yes. I’ve come to learn that he’s plotted against you for some time now, using this little murderess to seduce you, so he could get this very piece of property.” Constable Keener swept the air with his free hand. “Highclyffe.”
Edward turned to Sophie, his eyes blazing. “Is this true?” he barked. “Have you plotted with Ramsay against me?”
Sophie paled and her knees felt weak. Ramsay had known? Ramsay had known all along who she was? And had used her?
“No!” Her world swirled before her eyes. Ramsay had known? He had been using her, pushing her into a rushed marriage to get a piece of property? She felt sick with betrayal. She shook her head, barely able to remain standing. “No, I have not! I didn’t know!”
“She lies!” Agnes put in. “She does nothing but lie! And it’s lucky for your lordship that my husband made me come forward.”
“She’s that maidservant, the murderess?” Edward blinked. “Sophie Vernet?”
“The same. She’s a pauper. She has nothing. Ramsay cleaned her up, dressed her like an heiress and passed her off for the real thing. He wanted you to fall in love with her and marry her, because he alone knows you won’t inherit a dime should you wed this woman in the morning.”
Edward ran his hand over his hair. He was utterly stunned, and could do nothing but stumble backward, looking from Keener to Sophie and back again.
Sophie stood in the center of the main hall, equally stunned. Ian Ramsay—charming Ian Ramsay, had been using all of them. All this time, he’d been playing with them: Edward, Lady Auliffe, and her. Whatever she had believed had begun to grow between her and Ian had no value to him, not when his goal was to see her married to another man. No wonder he had never mentioned love. He had no feelings for her, as he obviously had no heart. It seemed the man had no concept of anything but games and money.
“Ramsay,” Edward hissed, his face purple with hatred. “I should have known.”
Sophie swallowed. Because she had not relinquished the buckle, and Constable Keener likely thought she had tried to dupe him, she would now have to face the full force of the law. She knew that Edward would provide her no protection. And she would die before running to that bastard, Ian Ramsay, as she had planned to do that night. She was alone. Utterly and abysmally alone.
“Sophie Vernet.” Constable Keener stepped toward her. “In the name of His Majesty King George, I arrest you.”
As if in a trance, Sophie listened to the words she had dreaded to hear since the night of the murder. The vision of the gallows, Tyburn Tree, flashed through her mind, because that was surely where she would end up if Constable Keener had his way. It couldn’t end like this! Not after all she had been through. And the thought of being publicly executed while thousands of people watched and taunted her, spurred her to action. She forgot her heartbreak. She forgot Ian Ramsay’s betrayal. She put out of her mind the puzzled outrage in Edward’s face. Instead, she grabbed up her skirts and dashed out of the main hall.
“Halt!” Constable Keener shouted.
She ignored his command. She ran for the back gate, retracing her steps of the afternoon and hoping she could run fast enough to get out of the fortress before the constable caught her. The path to the back gate was circuito
us, and she counted on her newfound familiarity with the halls of the place to give her an edge over the constable. Edward, in his drunken state and with an injured shin, would probably not pursue her for long, or with any amount of speed. She skittered through the halls, her boots ringing on the stone floor as she dashed through the dim corridors of Highclyffe.
Sophie could hear the clatter of footsteps behind her. How many people were following her?
“Halt, in the name of the king!”
Sophie pressed on. No king’s name would make her give up. No man would hold her life in his hands again. That night, pounding through the Scottish fortress of Highclyffe, she made a vow to herself. Should she escape this final time, should she survive this latest brush with death, she would forswear all alliances with men. She would make her own way and depend upon no one but herself from this day forward.
She veered around a corner, knowing the rear gate loomed just around the next one, only to find Edward standing there, talking to John MacEwan. She could no longer hear the constable pounding down the hallway behind her, but there was no time to wonder where he was. Panic-stricken, Sophie glanced around and caught sight of a narrow staircase winding into the gloom of a corner tower. This was a place where a man with a strong arm and sword could hold off an army as long as his strength remained. She tore up the stairs, not sure where they would take her, and ran upward until she thought her lungs would burst. At the top of the stairs, she found a heavy door, which she rammed with her shoulder. It opened on rusty hinges, and she stumbled forward, into the cool night air.
She was atop the tower, surrounded by the crenellated roof, with the starry sky above and the black lake below. The wind of the afternoon had never let up, and it whipped up the edges of the plaid and blew her hair in her eyes. She brushed it back and turned in the other direction, looking for an avenue of escape. A narrow parapet led across the wall of the fortress to the tower at the opposite corner. Sophie broke into a run, heading for the parapet, only to stop in her tracks when she spotted a man loping across the passage to intercept her.
She saw the staff and the flap of black clothes. Constable Keener. Frantic, she whirled to return to the tower, and spied Edward’s head and shoulders as he cleared the doorway at the top of the stairs. She backed toward the edge of the parapet, against the cold granite stones. Behind her was a sheer drop to the lake.
“The charade is over, Miss Vernet,” Constable Keener panted, grinning a gaping smile as he struggled to catch his breath. “Give up.”
“Edward!” she implored. “Don’t let him take me!”
“Why?” Edward took a pinch of snuff. “You duped me, you little slut.”
“I’m innocent!”
“I wasted a good deal of money on you, chit, which I see I shan’t be getting back. I can’t tell you how upset I am.”
“I shall be put to death for something I didn’t do!”
“Says who?” he drawled. “I find it difficult to believe anything you say.”
She glanced at the constable, back to Edward, and then behind her. Her life had come to this. She was atop a lonely Scottish fortress, her heart broken, accused of murder, betrayed by the only friend she thought she had, and looking death in the face in the guise of a ruthless officer of the law. There was nothing left for her, even if she somehow managed to live though this debacle.
Sophie swallowed as a chill descended upon her that had nothing to do with the winter air. She had one way out, one way to save herself from the horror of imprisonment and execution. She could take death into her own hands and end her life here at the mournful fortress of Highclyffe. It was the only choice remaining to her.
Before the two men could rush forward to stop her. Sophie lifted her skirts, stepped up to the nearest block of stone, and without allowing herself to think of the moments to come, leapt from the fortress. She caught a glimpse of the black water far below her, and then her skirts and petticoat flew up and blinded her. All she knew then was blackness, and a prayer that chanted through her mind, blocking out everything else.
“Dear Jesus, save me. Sweet savior, save me...”
Though tired from his long journey, faithful Puckett remained behind at the inn, promising to watch the highway that ran past the tavern for the arrival of Lady Auliffe. He ordered supper and a news sheet, and settled in for the rest of the evening.
At eight o’clock, Ramsay set out for Lady Auliffe’s manor, a good hour’s ride from the inn. There, the captain convinced the butler to let him languish in the parlor while he waited for the elderly woman to arrive. He reclined upon a sofa, trying not to succumb to the nausea induced by his raging headache, and not allowing himself to dwell on the sweet hour he had spent in Sophie’s arms. The vision of that shared idyll would drive him absolutely mad.
At half-past nine, Ramsay heard the clatter of hooves and the call of a driver as Lady Auliffe’s coach swept into the yard. Ramsay stirred, coming fully and immediately awake at the sound and grateful that his migraine had passed. He headed for the front entry, pulling down his waistcoat and smoothing back his hair, and hoping to keep his conversation with Lady Auliffe private.
The butler opened the door and Lady Auliffe’s two little dogs burst into the house, yapping and jumping at their mistress’ skirts, while William followed in her wake, loaded with a large trunk topped by two wig boxes.
“Captain Ramsay!” Lady Auliffe exclaimed, pulling back at the sight of him, and almost causing William to bump into her from behind.
“Good evening, madam,” he said with a short nod of his head.
“What are you doing here at this hour?”
“I must speak with you.”
“My God, half of London is come to Scotland!” She waved William up the stairs and instructed the butler to fetch them a light dinner in the drawing room.
“I must use the house of office,” she announced, unpinning her hat, “Help yourself to whatever you wish to drink, and I will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.”
The butler bowed. “This way, sir.”
Ramsay followed him down a dark hallway, paneled entirely in oak, to a formal room done in dark green and gold. He strolled to a cabinet beneath the portrait of a stern-looking gentleman in a periwig, inspected the numerous offerings inside, and poured himself two fingers of French cognac. Just as he returned the bottle to the shelf, he saw Lady Auliffe glide into the room. She had replaced her hat with a lace cap, and donned a wool shawl. Her eyes appeared a little tired, but other than that, he never would have guessed she had traveled nonstop from London.
“Would you like something?” he asked, looking up.
“I’ll have a brandy, too, if you please.”
She walked to the fire and stretched her arms out at her sides. “I’m damned glad to be out of that coach, I can tell you.”
“I’m amazed at your resilience, Lady Auliffe.” He gave her the glass of brandy.
She raised it. “To highwaymen,” she said.
“You were robbed?”
“No, thank God. But a very handsome one stopped the coach just beyond the border—until he found out with whom he was dealing.”
Ramsay grinned.
She watched him as he took a sip of his brandy.
“But I admit to no small surprise to find you waiting for me,” she remarked.
“You aren’t the only one surprised. How did you know to come?”
“My granddaughter left a letter.”
“She did?”
“Yes.”
Before he could ask any questions about the contents of the letter, she narrowed her eyes. “And why are you here, captain?”
“I came on business, initially. But this afternoon, I discovered Miss Hinds and Metcalf were here, planning to elope.”
“A plan that must be thwarted, if they haven’t wedded already.”
“It’s scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
“Good. I’d hoped to be in time to stop it.”
&n
bsp; “I assumed you would feel that way, madam, but—”
He broke off at the sound of the door being opened. Ramsay glanced at the doorway, where a tired-looking maid appeared with a tray of meat, cheese, and bread. She quietly left it upon a side table and hurried from the room, probably anxious to return to her warm bed. Ramsay waited until she closed the door, and then moved forward.
“And your objection to the marriage is?” he asked.
“Metcalf is a wastrel.”
“Who you believe would ruin your granddaughter.”
“What do you think? He’s a gambler and a womanizer.”
“But you needn’t care about that.” Ramsay let out a long sigh, realizing that once he began this conversation, there was no going back. This was the moment he would betray Sophie, the moment he had been dreading for weeks. Heartsick, he reminded himself of his goal, that of gaining Highclyffe, and forced himself to continue. “In fact, you need not bother yourself about Miss Hinds at all.”
“And why do you say that?” Lady Auliffe put down her brandy and reached for a plate onto which she piled a generous amount of food. She gave the plate to Ramsay and then fixed another for herself.
“Because Miss Hinds is not who you think she is.”
Chapter 19
“Really? And what do you know of her?”
Lady Auliffe’s coolness took Ramsay aback. He had thought his remark would have shocked her, but she seemed more interested in a slice of cheese she’d selected than his announcement regarding her granddaughter’s identity. And then the realization dawned on him that she must be aware of Sophie’s true identity.
“Cat got your tongue, young man?” she asked sharply, and he felt himself flush. Lady Auliffe sat upon a chair and glanced up at Ramsay, her eyes clear and direct. “I’d say you have some explaining to do. And cease that pacing. You’re driving me to distraction. Sit.”
Imposter Bride Page 24