The Counterfeit Countess

by Diana Campbell

  It was an understatement of such magnitude that had the situation not been so grave, Selina might have laughed aloud.

  Matthew sighed again. “However, I did not perceive the depth of my—my affection until after you had left, and I came to England with the intention of persuading you to return with me to America. Unfortunately, I discover myself too late.”

  “Yes, you are too late, Matthew." Selina tried to sound suitably regretful.

  “Well, I shall make the best of it,” he said bravely. “I fancy I should count myself lucky to have arrived just in time for your ball: you always were a splendid hostess. But I shall not stay much beyond the assembly; not

  above a week or two.”

  A week or two? To the contrary, Sir Matthew could not be granted a single moment of conversation with anyone in Wiltshire, and Selina hastened to set him straight.

  “I'm afraid you cannot come to the assembly.

  Matthew.” She was absolutely certain he would ask why, and she cast about for a half-credible explanation. “The fact is, it is not exactly our ball. It is Grandmama’s ball—Mrs. Seymour, Alex’s grandmother—and she insisted that only local people be included. I understand she has always been a trifle reclusive, and she has grown decidedly eccentric in her old age.”

  “Far be it from me to intrude then,” Matthew said kindly. “Naturally I am disappointed, but I shall remain in my bedchamber, and Mrs. Seymour need never know I am here.”

  “Your bedchamber,” Selina gulped. “I fear that’s another problem: we are in the process of renovating Worfields, and none of the guest bedchambers is ready for occupation. Indeed, our own rooms leave much to be desired.”

  “Umm.” Sir Matthew frowned.

  “I should suggest you stay a week or two at the inn in Trowbridge,” Selina rushed on, “but I fancy you would be dreadfully bored. No, if you wish to spend some time in England before sailing home, I propose you go back to London—”

  “Ah, it is Sir Matthew Platt!”

  Selina had not been watching the door, and she was horror-stricken by the sound of his lordship’s voice. Both she and Matthew jumped to their feet as the Earl strode across the parlor, one hand jovially extended.

  “Winthrop informed me we had a guest, but he said Selina had failed to introduce him. How careless of you, my love.” He gave her a fond, reproving smile. “However, Winthrop did believe he heard Selina refer to ‘Sir Matthew,’ and how many Sir Matthews can there be? In any event, your visit is a happy surprise, sir.”

  “Thank you, Lord Worsham.” Matthew wrung the outstretched hand. “May I tender my sincerest congratulations?”

  “Congratulations?” Alex knitted his blond brows. “Congratulations for what?”

  “For your marriage.”

  “Ah, yes, our marriage. Forgive me. Sir Matthew, but I occasionally forget that congratulations are still appropriate. I occasionally feel that Selina and I have been wed forever." He glanced around the room and frowned again. "No tea? But perhaps you might prefer something stronger, Sir Matthew. There’s an excellent brandy in the library—”

  “Matthew was just leaving,” Selina interposed firmly.

  “Leaving?” His lordship’s frown deepened. “But what of the assembly?”

  “Your courtesy is commendable, Lord Worsham,” Matthew said, “but Selina has advised me of your

  grandmother’s condition.”

  “Grandmama’s condition?”

  “I explained that Grandmama is a bit—a bit eccentric,” Selina said. “That she specifically wanted only local people at the ball.”

  “So she did.” The Earl nodded. “Which, I am sorry to say, means that Lord Shackleford was not invited to the assembly. But then I daresay you have already seen your grandfather, Sir Matthew.”

  “I regret to own that I have not.” Matthew flushed, and his white hair seemed, if possible, a trifle whiter.

  “Be that as it may,” Alex continued smoothly, “I am sure Grandmama will readily make an exception in your case. I am sure she will be delighted to welcome an old, dear friend of Selina’s to the ball.”

  “Indeed?” Sir Matthew eagerly bobbed his snowy head. “Then I shall proceed to Trowbridge and engage a room at once—”

  “Trowbridge?” his lordship barked. “Engage a room? I shall not hear of it, Sir Matthew: you are to stay with

  us.”

  “But—but ...”

  “I also explained,” Selina said desperately, “that we are unable to accommodate guests. I explained that none of the guest bedchambers is ready—”

  “Nonsense!” The Earl sounded astonishingly like Mrs. Seymour. “You will, it is true, have to live with the odor of fresh paint—fresh ecru paint—but I daresay you can bear up. Can you not. Sir Matthew?”

  “Of course I can,” he agreed happily.

  “Then I shall brook no further argument.” Alex

  tugged the bell rope, and Winthrop materialized with suspicious rapidity. “Pray show Sir Matthew to the very best guest room,” his lordship instructed, “and appoint a valet to attend his needs.”

  The butler and the erstwhile baronet bowed simultaneously, and there was considerable question in Selina's mind as to who bowed the lowest. At any rate, Winthrop ushered Sir Matthew out of the parlor, and when they were well out of sight, well out of earshot, she whirled furiously on the Earl.

  “What are you at now?” she hissed. “I had nearly got rid of him—”

  “And I couldn’t possibly permit you to do so,” he drawled. “No, my dear, I have always enjoyed the theater, and I am fairly dying to view the end of this little drama. I only regret I was not here at the start; I should have adored to see Sir Matthew’s face when he learned I was not dead after all.”

  “Dead?” Selina echoed. “Drama?” She was totally confused. ·

  “You’re a marvelous actress, love, and Sir Matthew gave a creditable performance as well: pretending to believe that you and I are married. I must confess to some doubt that the two of you were engaged; you projected just the right degree of dissimulation. However, * it is now clear that you and Sir Matthew and Blackjack Hewson schemed to pick the fortune from my bones. How shattering it must have been when you and your father discovered there was no fortune. And poor Sir Matthew! He came to England to wed a wealthy, widowed countess and discovered there are not even any bones.”

  “You think—you think—”

  “I think you have got yourself into the last, thorniest briars of all,” he said savagely, “and we shall soon see whether you are sufficiently clever to get yourself out. You may recall that I recently alluded to the possibility of fraud.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Selina gasped. “You wouldn’t tell Grandmama!” A poor choice of words, she belatedly reflected; she seemed to be admitting to guilt.

  *7 shall not go to Grandmama, but—if you will pardon me for saying so—Sir Matthew does not strike me as a towering pillar of strength. No, I think it highly likely that he will ultimately make a misstep. Nor must we forget Isabella, who is somewhat inclined to poke her nose into the affairs of others. And if Grandmama does learn the truth, I fancy Sir Matthew’s appearance will be to my benefit. Yes, I fancy I might well be viewed as a victim of your plot—not an entirely innocent victim, but a victim nevertheless.”

  Selina wanted nothing more than to stalk out of the room, march out of the house. But—as he had pointed out—she was on very treacherous ground indeed, and she swallowed her pride. “You are quite wrong, Alex,” she said evenly. “I had intended to wait until tonight to tell you so, but I have decided to marry you—”

  “You and Sir Matthew agreed upon such an extreme solution?” The Earl affected a gasp of his own. “He is prepared to take the leavings of my bed as well as my fortune? Well, you may tell him, my dear, to go to the devil, for I shall not have my bones picked while I am yet alive.”

  He swept a magnificent bow—lower than Winthrop’s or Matthew’s either one—and, with a final, frigid smile, tur
ned his back and strode out of the parlor.

  Chapter 14

  “If I may say so, ma’am, I fancy you have never looked better.”

  Selina gazed into the cheval glass and immodestly owned that Rose was right. She had deliberately selected her most dramatic gown: a black crepe dress over a black sarcenet slip, with two broad, scalloped rows of roses round the bottom of the skirt. The sleeves were long and full, but Rose had somehow managed to arrange them to perfection. The maid had also dressed Selina's hair so acceptably that Selina had chosen to leave it uncovered except for Mama’s jet tiara. With the matching jet necklace at her throat, the earrings in her ears, Grandmama’s great diamond ring on her finger, she did look very well. In fact, she reflected bitterly, for the first time in all the weeks of her charade, she looked like a genuine countess.

  The mantel clock struck half past eight, and Selina sighed and plucked her black chamois gloves off the dressing table. Her appearance notwithstanding, she fancied she had never felt worse, and she passionately wished she could strip off the splendid gown and go to ground beneath the bedclothes. But that was quite impossible, of course, and with a wan smile at Rose, she left her bedchamber and trudged up to the ballroom.

  Jeremy—scrubbed and combed to within an inch of his life—was scampering about the entry, and he demanded that the receiving line be formed at once, “in case anyone comes early.” Selina assured him that no one would come this early and peered apprehensively over his head. Following the Earl’s furious departure from the parlor, she had attempted to locate Papa, but, unable to do so, she had left a note in his bedchamber warning him of Sir Matthew’s arrival. Evidendy Black Jack Hewson had adapted to the situation with his customary aplomb, for he and Matthew were engaged in animated conversation. Indeed, Papa seemed altogether to have forgotten his disenchantment with the master of Platt’s Academy: even as Selina watched, he clapped Sir Matthew on the shoulder, and they burst into mutual, uproarious laughter. Which could only serve to confirm Alex’s awful suspicion . ..

  Selina stole a glance at his lordship, who was standing alone in the center of the ballroom, sipping a glass of champagne. As she had feared, he was observing Papa and Sir Matthew with keen interest, and she ground her fingernails into her palms. She had tossed and turned for several hours this afternoon as well, debating how she might persuade him of the truth. If she had not been so stubbornly proud as to tell him she and Matthew were engaged, there would be no need to convince him they were not. But she had told him, and she must somehow undo that foolish lie—

  “Every thing is quite magnificent, my dear."

  Mrs. Seymour swept into the ballroom, looking not a day above five and fifty in a daring gown of primrose net, and Jeremy stamped his foot.

  “I told you, Selina,” he said. “I told you someone would come early.”

  “Grandmama doesn’t count,” Selina murmured distractedly. “Well, she does count, of course," she hastily amended, “but Grandmama is not a guest. Grandmama will be in the receiving line.”

  “Do you think I should?” Mrs. Seymour essayed a frown of reluctance. “I view this as your and Alex’s ball, but naturally, if you insist ..

  “We do insist,” Alex drawled, “so pray welcome our first guest, Grandmama.” Everyone had converged on the entry, and the Earl nodded Matthew forward. “This is Sir Matthew Platt, one of Lord Shackleford’s grandsons. I do not believe I know, Sir Matthew, whether

  you are the eldest grandson or the youngest or something between.”

  “I—I do not know either.” Matthew flushed.

  “Well, it doesn’t signify, does it?” his lordship said kindly. “Sir Matthew emigrated to America many years ago, Grandmama, and he was a very good friend of John’s and Selina’s in Virginia.”

  “Was he?” Mrs. Seymour beamed. “Then I do hope we shall have an opportunity to converse later in the evening, Sir Matthew. For the present, Jeremy is right: someone may well come early, and we must form the receiving line.”

  Grandmama was still arranging and rearranging them when W'inthrop announced Lady Stansbury, and the ball got under way.

  The early portion of the assembly was not as difficult as Selina had feared, for, as had not been the case in London, she now knew most of the guests by name. She was consequently able to greet them almost unconsciously, and though she was sure she murmured a few words of welcome to each, she would have been quite unable to repeat her remarks had she been called upon to do so.

  “And here is Isabella!” Alex said heartily. “If I may be permitted to say so, you are looking unusually handsome this evening.”

  So far as Selina could see, Miss Bradley—clad in another of her overyouthful white muslin dresses— looked precisely as she always did.

  “Where is Mrs. Lennox?” Grandmama inquired, frowning over Miss Bradley’s shoulder.

  “I am sorry to say that Aunt Helen is indisposed.” Miss Bradley sighed. “I fear the tidying up of the house left her altogether exhausted.”

  “The house is finished then?” Mrs. Seymour asked.

  “Oh, yes; did Alex not tell you? He was kind enough to come to town this afternoon and assist me with my things.”

  “There is someone I particularly wish you to meet, Isabella.” Selina thought the Earl spoke a trifle too quickly, but perhaps that was a trick of her imagination.

  “Sir Matthew Platt, a dear friend of Selina's from America. If you will pardon me a moment?”

  His lordship bowed to Selina and Grandmama and guided Miss Bradley on into the ballroom, and Selina clenched her hands again. Apparently Alex had determined to torment her, to render her already precarious situation as hazardous as he possibly could. She was inclined to rush^fter him, but Grandmama nudged her Firmly in the ribs, and Selina reluctandy turned and mumbled a greeting to the Willis contingent.

  By ten o’clock, it appeared that everyone had arrived, and before Mrs. Seymour could order the Earl to dance with her, Selina excused herself “to check on the refreshments.” As she made her way out of the ballroom, she observed that Matthew^ was still conversing with Miss Bradley, and she was once more tempted to retreat to her bedchamber and hide for the duration of the evening. Or to pack her things and creep away before the assembly was over. Or, better yet, to cast herself over one of the balustrades on the roof and permanently resolve her dilemma. However, she settled for three lobster patties and a glass of champagne, and when she returned to the ballroom, Sir Matthew was standing up with Grandmama, and Alex was whirling Miss Bradley about the floor.

  Matthew claimed Selina for the next set and announced that he was having a marvelous time.

  "Not that I expected any less,” he continued gallantly, “for you were always a splendid hostess, Selina." Matthew did not seem to realize that he had a maddening tendency to repeat himself. “But I am finding this entertainment especially enjoyable, which is no doubt due, in part, to the excellent company you have assembled. Miss Bradley, for example, is a most interesting woman.”

  "Is she not?” Selina agreed dryly.

  “And Mrs. Seymour. I must say I do not judge her in the least eccentric.”

  “No? Well. Grandmama is—is better at some times than at others.”

  “I daresay that is true. In any event, I am thoroughly impressed with Wiltshire, and I believe I will extend mv stay. Not much beyond the summer, of course,” he added, “for I wish to sail before foul weather sets in. No, I shall certainly depan before All Saints’.”

  All Saints’? November} Selina trod on one of Sir Matthew’s highly polished shoes, and he valiantly attempted to suppress a wince. Fortunately, the music ended before either of them could say anything more, and Matthew bowed happily away, presumably to dance with Miss Bradley or Grandmama or another of his new friends.

  Selina proceeded unsteadily to the edge of the floor and sank into one of the dining-room chairs. She must speak to Alex without delay, and she must devise some means by which to persuade him, absolutely persuade him, of her h
onesty. Perhaps she would have to swallow her pride entirely, ask Sir Matthew to confirm that they had never been engaged .. . But she was not thinking clearly: the Earl presumed Matthew to be part of the plot, and he would not believe a single word the former baronet might utter. Furthermore, as his lord- ship had pointed out, Sir Matthew was not a pillar of strength, and Selina could ill afford to take him into her confidence.

  No, painful though the prospect was, she would be compelled to throw herself on Alex’s mercy; she might even be forced to confess that she was in love with him. She stood and squared her shoulders, and as her eyes flew around the ballroom, seeking the Earl's blond head, Jeremy materialized at her side.

  . “It really is a bang-up night. Selina,” he said. “I stood up with Lady Stansbury, and she told me I was a very accomplished dancer. Well, she actually said I should be an accomplished dancer with a litde pracuce, but I only stepped on her feet three times.”

  “How nice, Jeremy.” Selina was again distracted, but it suddenly occurred to her that it must be well after eleven. “Jeremy!” she repeated sharply. “You promised to return to your room at half past ten.”

  “It’s all right,” he protested. “I’ve been helping the caterer.”

  He extended two empty glasses as proof of his assistance. Indeed, they were a bit too empty, and Selina suspected that Jeremy had additionally “helped” by consuming the last dregs of champagne.