The Perfect Impostor

by Wendy Soliman

  With a sigh Leo stripped off his coat and boots. He’d often swum in this lake as a boy. The banks were steep and the water deepened very quickly. A safe breeding ground for Marshall’s trout. Less of a haven for mere mortals since wading into the cold water proved to be impossible. The mud was like quicksand, slowing his progress to a snail’s pace as it sucked him down. If he didn’t get to her quickly, Celia would drown.

  “Hold on,” he called to her. “Try not to panic. I’ll get to you.”

  She responded by thrashing her arms even more frantically. Leo sighed, unsure if there was enough time to reach her but he had to try. The alternative was unthinkable. He took a deep breath, dove into the water and struck out in a strong crawl in the direction of the rapidly weakening maid.

  He reached the terrified girl and caught her round the waist. But she was disoriented, seemed to think he was someone else who was trying to harm her, and fought him off, pulling them both under. If she carried on like this, she would drown them both. He let her go, pushed hard with his legs, gulping for air as his head broke the surface. With his lungs full of fresh sweet air he dove back down and tried again. This time he was more successful, got a firm hold of Celia’s waist and pulled her head clear. She was still flailing with her arms and legs and caught him a painful blow on his shin. But she was weakening fast.

  “Stop fighting me, woman. I’m trying to help you.”

  His voice slowly got through to her and she went limp, clinging on to him so tightly that she almost dragged him under again as he trod water, trying to keep them both afloat. Celia was wearing a heavy cloak that was acting as a dead weight. With numb fingers he wasted valuable time unfastening it and allowed it to float away. They were now right in the centre of the large lake and he tried to assess the shortest route back to the bank.

  “I can’t swim,” she gasped.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Just trust me,” he shouted. “I won’t let you drown.” Even if it is what you deserve.

  The night was warm but the water wasn’t. In spite of the effort he put into swimming and simultaneously dragging one terrified woman with him, he was feeling cold to the bone. Celia’s fingers were grasping his shoulders so tightly that he’d long since lost all feeling in them. How ridiculous would it be to die in the middle of a bloody lake, weighed down by a traitorous lady’s maid? The prospect gave Leo fresh resolve and he struck out more strongly for the bank.

  They reached the shallows and Leo unceremoniously shoved Celia towards safety by giving her derriere a firm push. Her hands scrabbled for a hold on the muddy bank and eventually she fell onto the soft springy grass, panting, totally spent. Leo climbed inelegantly out of the water and took a moment to recover. Celia was barely conscious. He slapped her back and water spewed from her mouth.

  “Bastard!” she muttered in a croaky voice before passing out.

  That’s what you get for helping people, Leo thought wryly. With another exasperated sigh he wrapped her in his dry coat, put his boots back on and carried her to the house.

  * * *

  Amos didn’t know what hurt more, his balls, his eyes or his pride. He clutched his scrotum and rubbed his eyes repeatedly with the back of his hand, feeling ready to commit murder. The bitch had blinded him. He couldn’t see a bloody thing. He shook his head repeatedly, keeping up a constant stream of vile language relating to the things he intended to do to Katrina when he got his hands on her again.

  Slowly his vision returned to him. His eyes stung like hell but at least he could see again. With the return of his sight came clarity of thought. She’d tricked him, the whore. He really thought she was prepared to treat him with the respect he deserved but it had all been one massive ploy. Her accomplices were stealing that tiara tonight, and she’d disappear with them, never to be seen again.

  No wonder she showed no reaction when he told her he knew where she lived. Obviously, she’d never return there. Amos could feel his financial security slipping away. No cut on the jewel theft, no making money out of Katrina, not even a prospect of blackmailing her friend. No one would believe him unless he could produce Katrina.

  Damn, she’d outwitted him. But it wasn’t too late. If he could catch up with the thieves he could still cut a deal with them. He barged his way out of the closet, his vision still not completely clear, and headed to the stables. James was the key to it all. Which way would he have left the estate? Certainly not by the front drive. Amos knew there was a path on the other side of the lake that the servants used as a shortcut to the village on their days off. He was betting that was the way they’d have gone and made straight for it.

  He saw them almost at once and slowed his pace, diving behind a tree for cover when he heard raised voices. He recognised Celia and James, even though he couldn’t see them clearly. He wasn’t too late to salvage something out of this mess. Then he noticed someone else, not far in front of him, also watching proceedings.

  Amos thumped his thigh. Just his bloody luck! It was that nob who’d danced with Katrina tonight. What the hell was he doing here? Before he had a chance to decide whether or not to admit defeat, James gave Celia a hefty shove and she fell in the lake, screaming like a fishwife. James laughed, tipped his hat to her and went on his way.

  Amos expected Kincade to follow him but to his astonishment he stripped off his clothes instead and went to the maid’s rescue. Amos wanted to laugh. He wouldn’t have given the drowning maid a second thought himself, not when there was so much valuable tomfoolery up for grabs. But toffs did have this odd sense of honour. He’d been about to give it up again, having learned the hard way not to take on the gentry. But now it was just an Irish groom standing between him and his ambitions, and that was altogether another matter.

  James was actually whistling as he made his way along the darkened path, the arrogant sod. Still, the noise covered any sound that Amos might make as he crept up on him. He laughed aloud as he tapped James on the shoulder.

  “Top of the morning to you,” he said.

  The whistling stopped abruptly and James whirled to face him, completely startled. “Ah, it’s the beer man,” he said, his expression clearing.

  “I’ll be taking that,” Amos said, reaching for the bundle under James’s arm.

  “With pleasure.”

  Only when it was too late to react did he notice that James was carrying something in his other hand. He thought it might be a stout branch of some sort but he couldn’t be sure because he only caught a fleeting glance as it was brought down on the top of his head with considerable force. He crumpled to the ground, wondering if the entire world was running mad.

  He came round moments later. Not much time could have elapsed because he could still hear Kincade splashing about, trying to rescue the maid. He rubbed the bump on the back of his head, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. He could see all his ambitions seeping away. Everything had been within his grasp, and he’d somehow let it slip. Damnation! He staggered to his feet. Best get back to the house. The ball was still in full swing. Perhaps he could lift a few bits and bobs to make up for his disappointments.

  Amos took the opposite path to the one where Kincade and Celia were now collapsed on the bank. He cut through the pet cemetery and found himself in the courtyard with the fountain. Fresh anger coursed through him as he recalled what Kincade and Katrina had done there just a few nights previously. He stopped when he heard soft voices coming from behind him, a man comforting a woman who was crying. The man saw him and stood to confront him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked aggressively.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leo took the back stairs and managed to get Celia to the impostor’s room without being intercepted by anyone. He pushed through the door and dropped the unconscious girl on the settee in the sitting room.

  “What happened?” Katrina asked.

  “A falling out amongst your co-conspirators,” Leo said with icy disdain.
“She lost consciousness the moment I rescued her.”

  Katrina looked at him blankly but made no comment, her attention focused on Celia. She and Leo between them stripped off Celia’s soaked garments, leaving her in just her chemise. Katrina felt her pulse then grabbed a cover from the bed and wrapped the comatose woman in it.

  Boscombe threw a log on the fire. “So much for honour amongst thieves,” he muttered.

  Leo frowned at Katrina. “What happened to your face? Your lip is cut. Did you have a disagreement with your accomplices, as well?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” she replied, blinking with genuine-seeming confusion.

  “I was hoping that you would be able to tell me.”

  “What’s this all about?” Katrina asked when she had done everything she could to make Celia comfortable.

  “We could save some time if you told me.” Leo warmed his hands over the flames now leaping up the chimney, his eyes lingering disdainfully on the jewel case.

  “I found that just now when I came in. It had the duchess’s tiara in it, didn’t it?”

  Leo curled his lip. “But you know nothing about its theft?”

  “I know the tiara was in it because it has the duchess’s crest on the lid,” she said coolly, leaning over Celia to feel her pulse again. “It’s still strong,” she said.

  “Yes, she’ll live.”

  “James?” Boscombe asked.

  “Gone. He shoved Celia in the lake and then scarpered.”

  “This was deliberate?” Katrina’s expression of surprise was tolerably convincing. “Who’s James?”

  “The bastard who got me into this,” Celia said, opening her eyes and glaring at them all.

  “Where is he now?” Leo asked.

  “Gone to Hawkenbury. A village a few miles south of here,” she added in response to Leo’s blank look.

  “He’s meeting someone there to pass on the tiara?”

  “Aye, that he is,” she confirmed bitterly.

  “But will he be there now? All your other thefts have occurred on the day following the ball.”

  “Yes, but when the duchess took the tiara off early, James thought it too good an opportunity to miss, so when everyone was watching the auction, we acted. His people will already be at the inn in Hawkenbury.” Her voice sounded raw from the amount of pond water she’d swallowed. “They always arrive a day early ’cos we never knew when we’d be able to get the stuff to them, and James never wanted to have it on him for long.”

  “We should go after him,” Boscombe said.

  “He won’t gain admittance to the inn until first light, not without drawing attention to himself. Send a couple of men to keep the place under observation,” Leo said. “And get me some dry clothes, Boscombe. In the meantime, Lady Dupont and I need to talk.”

  Boscombe picked up Leo’s ruined coat and left the room without another word. Leo took Katrina’s arm and steered her to one of the chairs in front of the fire.

  “You have pond weed in your hair,” she said.

  “Probably not only my hair,” he said, fidgeting in his damp clothing. “Tell me how you came to be here instead of Julia. And the truth this time, if you please.”

  She sighed. “Very well. Where do you want me to begin?”

  “With your name.” He fixed her with a stern gaze. “Your real name.”

  “I’m Katrina Sinclair. Sinclair is my late mother’s name. I adopted it after the death of my husband, Jeb Fisher.”

  “You didn’t choose to retain his name.”

  She shuddered. “I didn’t choose to marry him in the first place and certainly didn’t want to be reminded of him every time I signed my name.”

  He grunted. “And your connection with Julia?”

  “We grew up together.” She launched into an explanation that agreed with what he already knew. “How did you find me out so quickly?” she asked.

  He flashed a brief, humourless smile. “I proposed to Julia beside that pagoda in the Japanese garden. It was obvious that you’d never been there before.”

  Katrina’s mouth gaped open. “You actually proposed to her?”

  “Certainly I proposed.”

  “But…but I thought you—”

  “Why did Julia ask you to come here instead of her?”

  “I really don’t know. After…following the hubbub surrounding my husband’s death, Lord Coulton helped me to establish myself as a modiste. It’s what I’d always wanted but my father wouldn’t hear of it. But once Jeb died, there was nothing to prevent me pursuing my dream.”

  The rumours about her husband being murdered concerned Leo. He didn’t think she’d killed him, but if the man had been a bully and a brute, and she was responsible for his death, Leo almost didn’t blame her.

  Almost.

  “Go on,” he said in a bland tone.

  “I set up in Basing Lane,” she said. “I’m determined to repay Lord Coulton as soon as I can and didn’t wish to get further in his debt by taking on more salubrious premises. Anyway, Julia kept promising that I would design her wardrobe. But for over a year she only let me do the odd thing. Nothing that would make my mark.”

  “But the gown you wore tonight most assuredly will.”

  “If I’m not sent to gaol for theft,” she said, her eyes sparkling with defiance. “Anyway, a couple of months ago Julia came to me, asking me to design her entire wardrobe for this house party.” Her smile temporarily deprived Leo of the ability to concentrate. “My chance had finally come, if I could just get it right.”

  “The clothes you’ve worn this week are the ones you intended for Julia?”

  “Yes, but I had the devil’s own job getting Julia to come for fittings and approve my ideas. She kept making appointments and not keeping them and so I had to fit the gowns to myself. When she did finally call, she suggested we change places.”

  “And you were willing?”

  “At first I hoped she wasn’t serious and I tried to talk her out of it.”

  “Where has she gone?”

  Katrina spread her hands. “I honestly don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me but I thought there must be a gentleman involved. You know how impulsive she can be.”

  “Yes, but even so.”

  “She put considerable pressure on me.” She paused, as though wondering how much more to tell him. “You might as well know that I was accused of murdering my husband,” she said in a rush. “I didn’t, but without the earl’s intervention those charges might well have stuck.” She dropped her head. “I owe the earl everything, especially since my father disowned me after the scandal and I had no means of supporting myself.”

  “Tell me how you managed to fool Lord Dupont when he arrived here.” Leo ground his teeth, still finding it difficult to think of that ogre pawing his Tethys.

  “When he arrived I was ready to flee. I would do a lot for my friend, but sharing a bed with her husband was one step too far. But Celia persuaded me that we could deceive him.” She lifted her eyes and finally met his gaze. “Perhaps now I understand why.”

  Katrina went on to explain how they had drugged Lord Dupont and made it appear as though Julia had shared his bed. Leo believed her account. All the noises he’d heard, the evidence Boscombe had found in the room of Julia’s presence, the shattered glass, all bore it out. At least she hadn’t lied about that. The relief Leo felt was out of all proportion to the situation.

  “It explains why she taught me to dance and made it almost impossible for me to run away.” She glanced up at him and then at Celia, whose lips were clamped tight but who appeared to be listening intently to everything that was said. “Assuming you accept that I had nothing to do with this theft, do you imagine that Julia’s involved?”

  Leo had been wondering the very same thing.

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” he said. “If she’s dissatisfied with Dupont she can’t leave him without creating a dreadful scandal and so she would need funds. However, I don’t see her as unpatriotic.”


  “What’s patriotism to do with it?”

  Leo sighed. He hadn’t meant to tell her about the other thefts but there was no harm in her knowing now. This thing would soon be over. “Three other thefts of valuables have occurred recently at gatherings such as this and finished up being sold to support Napoleon’s cause.”

  Celia gasped. “That’s moonshine!”

  “Be quiet!” Leo said authoritatively. “You’ll get your chance to explain yourself in a moment.”

  “And you think I’m involved?” Katrina stood up and glared at him. “How could I have been? This is the only party I’ve attended.”

  He stood also. “Yes, but Julia has been at all the others. If she thought we were getting close it would explain why she sent you in her place this time and left Celia to do the necessary.”

  “Ask Celia, not me.”

  “I intend to.”

  “You were sent here deliberately to investigate these crimes?” Katrina narrowed her eyes at him. “And you accuse me of duplicity?”

  “It’s sometimes necessary to fight fire with fire.”

  “But you expect me to play by the rules.”

  “I certainly expect you to explain your actions.”

  “Since you insist upon bullying me, I suppose I have no choice.” She expelled a long breath. “If Julia was being cautious, why not warn me that Dupont was coming? She had to have known that he would appear at some point. He told me he’d mentioned it to me…well to her, when I expressed surprise at seeing him. It was quite a settled thing apparently. The only questionable part was which particular day he would be here.” Katrina paused, mangling her lower lip between her teeth in a gesture Leo was starting to recognise when she had thorny issues to resolve. “She knows I love her and will do almost anything to help her. But I most emphatically would not share a bed with her husband and she knows that too.”