The Counterfeit Lady_A Regency Romance

by Alina K. Field

  Fox walked out with him. At the door, Sir Richard turned on him. “Bit of a surprise, eh, his lordship showing up?”

  The skin on his neck prickled again. Shadows hid Sir Richard’s expression, but he’d lowered his shoulders in a threatening stance. A tall man he was, about Fox’s height, and the flabbiness around him was, Fox realized, merely an excess of linens and coats crowned with a mask of stupidity. Strip him down to a dark jumper and one would find muscle and brawn and a keen intelligence.

  The man tilted his head, the rabbit waiting to see what the fox would do.

  Only, who was the rabbit and who was the fox here?

  Fox nodded. “And good day, Sir Richard.” He held the door until the man passed, and then snicked it quietly shut, turning the lock.

  Perry would not be going to that dinner, at least, not without him, not without Kincaid and Farnsworth, though none of them had been expressly invited.

  Well, Sir Richard’s cook would just have to stretch the fare a little further.

  Chapter 26

  Perry’s skin had been crawling for the last several minutes, like she had landed in a pile of maggots. Not that she’d ever done such a thing, but this surely must be the feeling.

  Her father’s hand rested on hers for the second time that morning.

  “Are you quite all right?” he asked.

  She glanced up at him, and then Fox returned, drawing her attention. His look of concern must mirror her own.

  “I am,” she said. “But I am not sure I should have dinner at Sir Richard’s until after my injuries have healed.”

  “I’m not sure any of us should,” Farnsworth said, “but especially not the ladies.”

  “That is a dangerous road for an evening excursion,” Fox said.

  “He did not mention the assault on your servants last night, Fox,” Farnsworth said. “Does he call on you often, Goodfellow?”

  “Never,” Fox said.

  “Interesting. Fancy him paying his first call just after we’ve arrived.”

  “Lady Perpetua,” Kincaid asked, “have you met him before?”

  “No,” she wheezed, a pain in her injured rib sharpening the pronouncement, another uncontrollable wriggle making her back spasm. Sir Richard might’ve picked her up from the chair and carried her off, his interest had been that palpable. Without the men here, she would have run for a knife in the kitchen. Father’s dislike had been clear.

  Which, she reminded herself, didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to use the man’s interest for one of his schemes.

  “If you need my help, Father, then I shall determine to go to dinner. I can work out a way to cover this.” She touched the scarf at her neck.

  A necklace of wide ribbon and a brooch would work—it had for Sirena. There would be something among her mother’s things she could use. And if Fox would come with her…

  But the invitation had gone to her father and the ladies, had it not? She strained to remember.

  “Will you remove your scarf, Perpetua?” Father said. The question was a gentle command, but there was kindness in his eyes. “I should like the others to see what we are dealing with.”

  Heat shot through her. She must be a bright shade of crimson.

  “Sir.” Fox pushed back his chair and opened his mouth to say more.

  “It’s all right, Fox.” She unwound the scarf she’d found in her mother’s things, sending the lilac scent rising. The damp sea air touched the skin above the dress’s deep neckline. It should have cooled the flush racing through her but it only made it worse.

  She’d been so foolish. She dropped her gaze and hitched in a breath.

  Kincaid cleared his throat. “Who did this, my lady?”

  Jane leaned in. Despite her promise to Jane, she had put off explaining her injuries. She’d not shared the story with anyone but Father. Nor had Fox, apparently.

  She repeated the story about being taken on the road.

  “A big man,” Kincaid said. “Might it’ve been this Sir Richard? He seemed taken with you.”

  “I was dressed as a boy.”

  Kincaid and Farnsworth shared a look.

  “She was,” Farnsworth said.

  Could it have been the Baronet? The voice was different, gruffer, surer, the body more solidly muscular. Sir Richard looked like a stuffed hog swathed in quality worsted.

  She shook her head. “It couldn’t have been him. He left me to be killed by one of his men. Sir Richard would have held me for ransom or…”

  Or worse. Her heart pounded wildly. The previous night’s villain wouldn’t have hesitated to take her virtue. The thought sent her mind reeling.

  “He didn’t know he’d captured an earl’s daughter,” Kincaid mused. “How did you escape?”

  All eyes turned on her and she finally found her voice. “Fox saved us,” she whispered.

  “Us?” Kincaid asked, showing no surprise at Fox’s heroics.

  He’d worked with Fox before. Fox was indeed part of their circle, respected by Father and his men. She glanced at her lover down the table. His eyes burned through her, but she couldn’t decipher his emotion.

  “Us, Lady Perpetua?” Kincaid asked again.

  “Yes. Davy’s young son, Pip, had joined me.”

  Fox crossed his arms. “I sent Pip in.” He told them about the message Pip was supposed to deliver warning about the very men who captured Perry and him. “It was a grievous mistake.”

  “So, Scruggs and this John Black are not working together?” Farnsworth said.

  “I’d say Scruggs is afraid of the man,” Kincaid said. “Lady Perpetua, how did Fox rescue you?”

  “I didn’t.” Fox shook his head. “Lady Perry and Pip rescued themselves. They jumped off the cliff into the water.”

  All eyes turned on her, and the room grew warmer again.

  “That’s why you were soaked.” Farnsworth’s gaze held sympathy and interest. And perhaps, respect. “Were there other injuries?”

  She waved a hand. “Another bruise.”

  “A very large one out of sight on her back,” Jane said, pursing her lips and frowning at Fox. “She should see a surgeon. She might have broken a rib.”

  Jane could not know Fox had seen it. Or perhaps she was frowning because she thought Fox should have done more.

  Perry lifted her chin and looked at a spot on the wall. “Fox examined my injuries. Nothing is broken, is it, Fox? And he truly did save us. He shot the Frenchman, just as the man was firing at us.”

  “A Frenchman?” Farnsworth sat up.

  He’d been completely distracted from the notion of Fox examining her. She hoped Father was as well.

  “Is the man dead?” Farnsworth asked.

  Perry glanced at Fox.

  “He’s dead,” Fox said.

  “No name?” Farnsworth asked.

  Fox shook his head. “He was checked thoroughly. There was nothing on him.”

  “What did you do with the body?” Kincaid asked.

  “Weighted it down and tossed it in the sea,” Fox said.

  “With luck, the tides will wait until after we’ve settled this matter to wash him up,” Farnsworth said.

  “And by then the fishes will have eaten around the bullet hole.” Kincaid took a piece of buttered toast. “I take it Davy and Gaz rowed them back here?” He addressed the question to Farnsworth.

  Farnsworth nodded. “Those two will have reported to Scruggs.” He looked up from his plate. “Where is Carvelle?”

  Fox took a deep breath. “MacEwen saw him last at the inn with Scruggs, night before last.”

  Farnsworth stood. “I’ll just go check with Mac.”

  When Farnsworth left, Fox moved up next to Jane.

  The quiet around the table chilled her. She’d set something in motion with her foolhardy escape. She’d endangered a child, and Fox, as well as herself.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” she said.

  His look was long and indecipherable. “I do not like to see you injured. T
hough we do know more today than we did yesterday.”

  She dropped her gaze to the uneaten toast on her plate, then looked up. “What, Father?”

  He blinked.

  Of course she would have to draw it out of him. “The assassin,” she said. “Are they bringing him in to kill the King?”

  Her father exchanged a look with Kincaid.

  “Carvelle arrives,” Kincaid said speculatively, “Carvelle working with Scruggs. Or is Carvelle working with John Black to bring in a French assassin? Scruggs is a mere smuggler, not a traitor to England. Done us more than enough good turns through the years.”

  His arm brushed hers as he turned to her, this man who had always been a strong, shadowy presence in her father’s life. It was no wonder Father kept him around. His loyalty was unshakable.

  “Can you remember anything about this Frenchman, Lady Perpetua? Any words he spoke to you?”

  “He…” She inhaled and the sharp pain bit at her. “He said he knew I was a woman. Yet…he didn’t mention it to the others. He was not the one who did this.” She touched her neck. “That was the big man. A smaller man with horrible breath punched me in the back.” She closed her eyes and thought of that moment on the cliff. “The Frenchman said, I am good at what I do. You will feel no pain.”

  Kincaid and Father exchanged looks, the air vibrating with their silent communication. Lady Jane frowned down at her plate. Fox’s mouth had firmed, but she read anguish in his features.

  “Did you recognize him?” She directed the question to Fox. He looked at Father.

  Fox shrugged. “He could have been any number of French torturers.”

  “But the French have been defeated,” Perry said.

  “Maybe they’re settling old scores, also,” Fox said.

  His face went pale. His gaze lifted to Father. He took a deep breath and turned back to her. “But most likely this was not personal for him. Most likely he’d hired himself out to do what he was so good at.”

  He knew more than he’d told her. Like always.

  “Hired by whom? To assassinate whom?” She looked around at the inscrutable faces.

  Lady Jane rested her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “Perry, I fear you are mistaken about Sir Richard.”

  Lady Jane’s clear blue eyes held hers, her mouth firmed in an angry line.

  Chapter 27

  Was Lady Jane Montfort also a member of Father’s network?

  Father frowned, and Lady Jane glared back at him.

  “If you could but see the bruise on Perry’s back…” She inhaled sharply and turned a hot look on Fox. “And you. I don’t even want to ask why she was out on that road last night.”

  “We’ve been over this before. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “I take full responsibility,” he said.

  Perry pushed back her chair and hurried around the table, gripping his shoulders. “It was my own foolishness.”

  She swallowed hard. Fox didn’t reach up to touch her. Father had shown her more affection this morning than Fox.

  Maybe he hated her.

  Lady Jane shook her head. “Look at them, Shaldon. Would you keep them apart? She has been mooning over him since the wedding ball. Enough to run away and come to him.”

  Perry gasped. “I didn’t know Fox was here.”

  She thought back to the day she found the papers about this house. She’d been snooping, as usual, when Father was out, and that time he’d left his study unlocked, the documents relating to this property on his desk. It had been during the turmoil of Charley’s and Gracie’s problems, and she’d thought it had been an uncharacteristic, and for her, fortuitous, moment of carelessness on Father’s part.

  Father’s face was unreadable, as usual. She wobbled, and Fox pulled out the chair next to him, helping her onto it.

  His warm strength enveloped her. Perhaps he didn’t hate her. If only they could be alone and she could talk to him instead of in this room with Father, Kincaid and Jane looking on with disapproval.

  And yet, and yet…had Father manipulated her into this reunion with Fox? If Lady Jane had seen her interest in Fox, then Father had seen it also. Perhaps Father was throwing them together, not keeping them apart.

  And perhaps, he’d seen that Fox had some interest in her.

  Heat shivered through her. Well, of course. Even if he didn’t wish to wed her, the drawings, the painting, those were proof Fox had at least been thinking about her. Perhaps Father had seen them.

  Where her brothers were concerned, Father had been making up for the many years of his absences, the lost time he could never recapture. He had been watching them, and manipulating them.

  Into the matches of his choice.

  She reached for Fox’s hand. Surely, they already had Father’s blessing. He might have expected her to behave better, but he himself hadn’t, had he? Not when her eldest brother Bink, Father’s by-blow, had been conceived.

  Lady Jane’s gaze bore into her. She certainly expected better from Perry. And…what had she said about Sir Richard?

  Blast it, she’d been distracted again.

  “What’s this about Sir Richard, Lady Jane?” Perry asked.

  Lady Jane’s frown only deepened. “You are the very image of your mother at your age. Is she not, Kincaid?”

  “Yes, you are very like your mother, Lady Perpetua,” Kincaid said. “She also was not averse to a gamble and would occasionally get a hair up and—”

  “Kincaid.” Lady Jane tapped the table.

  Kincaid nodded and leaned back.

  “I’d first met Sir Richard many years before that ball I mentioned, when I was a child. I’d been brought along to a house party where your mother, Felicity’s, engagement to Lord Shaldon became known.” She turned to Father. “That was Lord Shaldon, your brother. You were still in Ireland.”

  Father did not so much as nod.

  “Sir Richard hadn’t yet succeeded his uncle as baronet. He was simply Richard Fenwick. It was clear, he’d set his sights on your mother, and especially her lands and her dowry.” She leaned across Perry for a long look.

  Her mother had been sole heir to a great fortune amassed in trade and banking.

  “Sir Richard followed her around for days, trying to lure her out alone.” She shook her head. “She did go eventually, but not alone,” Jane said, glancing at Perry. “I was there.”

  “You were friends with my mother?” Perry asked.

  “No. I was but a child, as I said, following the older girls around. Your mother was kind to me, and as it turned out, I was useful to her.”

  “Did you intervene directly?” Fox asked, his voice laced with concern. “Will he remember you?”

  Perry’s mind skipped back and forth. If Jane had interfered…surely Sir Richard would not pull up a memory of her as a little girl.

  “I ran for some grooms. Her grandfather bribed them soundly to keep silent and dealt with Sir Richard. I don’t know how, but the villain departed within the hour.”

  “What exactly did Sir Richard do to my mother?” Perry asked.

  Jane blinked and glanced at Father, who was staring intently, his face still without expression, but with a tightness around his mouth that hadn’t been there previously.

  Father, who knew almost everything, hadn’t known about this.

  “He had a carriage waiting. He planned to force a marriage.”

  “What did he do?” Father asked.

  “She was struggling in his arms, fighting him while he tried to carry her off to a waiting chaise. The grooms arrived in time and her grandfather soon after.” She looked around the table. “He is not a mere bumbling baronet. He is a brute, I daresay quite capable of assaulting a boy and a young woman dressed as a boy on a dark road.”

  “He wanted Mother’s money.”

  “Yes. But I believe he also wanted her.”

  Perry shivered. She didn’t have her mother’s fortune, but she had her looks.

  Fox’s arm slipped aroun
d her. “He’ll not lay a hand on you,” he murmured.

  Father’s gaze had gone somewhere else. Had he cared for their mother? She’d always wondered. When his brother died, he’d claimed the title and the fiancée. After the marriage, Father had been away more than he’d been home. She’d always thought it a marriage arranged for money, on his part, and status on her mother’s. She’d always imagined the love of his life had been Bink’s mother. Perhaps she’d been wrong.

  Lady Jane’s gaze went to Father. Sirena had hinted that the lady had once had a beau, so many years ago. And she’d also met Father, a long time ago.

  And Sir Richard had wanted her mother. All the ancient romances, the ancient discords and plots, swirled around them, reaching from the past, confusing the present.

  Fox’s hand dropped from her shoulder, making her heart plummet. Perhaps love was always a muddle.

  Farnsworth swept in from the kitchen, silently, glancing around at the change in seating and taking the chair at the foot of the table. “Mac will check at the inn on the whereabouts of Carvelle. And I’ve sent word to the cutter that I’ll stay on land tonight. They’ll patrol to the north.”

  “And if they land further south?” Fox asked.

  “We’ll bring the dragoons up at dark,” Farnsworth said. “Every moment we delay the landing is to our good.” He leaned back in his chair. “And I’ve set men to follow Sir Richard.”

  “We’ll join him for dinner tomorrow night,” Father said, “and see what is what.”

  “I shall go,” Perry said. “Perhaps my presence will unsettle him.”

  “Let us get through tonight first.” Father stood and looked from Kincaid to Farnsworth. “Join me in the study. Fox, you have learned the terrain around here. We’ll need your services tonight. In the meantime, I should like sketches of Lady Perry’s captors. She will help you, and we can have the boy brought over also.”

  They left, and Fox’s hand rested on hers. “You will be safer here tomorrow night than at Sir Richard’s.”

  “That is true,” Lady Jane said.