When I had shown Lady Remington out, I moved toward the stairs and found Victor Prendergast in the hall outside the morning room.
“Well, how did the evening go?” he said. “I’ve been anxiously awaiting the news.”
“Everyone seemed to have a nice time.”
“Was there anyone there you . . . recognized?” He gave a jaunty wink.
I backed up to glare at him, realization washing over me. “You arranged that? You arranged for them to come here?”
“I had to prove something to you. I made the acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. John Reese Stockton through a few business contacts and added their names to the invitation. You can imagine her enthusiasm to make such a connection.”
“How did you even find her? All I’d ever told you was—”
“I am quite good at finding out what I wish to know. Your arrest and imprisonment was a matter of public record, as was the name of your accuser.” He smiled again, his hands clasped behind his back. “You are welcome.”
“For what, parading me before the pains of my past?”
“For proving to you that it has no hold over you anymore. You see? You lay down as Ragna and then rose from her pile of rags to become the magnificent Countess of Enderly. So much so that you are not recognized, even by those who once knew you.”
I looked down at the plush carpet, battling the odd sensation that stole over me and warmed my clammy skin. “But I cannot be Lady Enderly. No one is her but her.” My voice hurried like water skipping over stones, directed more toward myself than Victor as I scrambled to grasp at reality that was becoming elusive. “And one day she’ll return to her life and I’ll go back to being . . .” my voice trailed away, for I had no idea what I would be when this ended.
He took my arms in the dark, holding them in a firm grasp. “You are the countess. You have changed entirely into her. What difference exists between you? You wear the same gowns with the same measurements, have identical features, and you even share the same tastes. You walk and talk and even reason like the countess. What part of you is not her?”
My head swam as my sensible logic tilted and spun, leaving me certain of nothing. Beliefs and thoughts swirled along with Victor’s words that attempted to define truth to me. How naturally I had responded to the countess’s name when I spoke to that woman from my past. My heart pounded with all manner of internal battles—both victory and utter guilt at accomplishing my goal. How could it be a victory to become something I was not, to so thoroughly succeed in deceit? How could it be an improved version of me if it was not me?
“You’re a lucky girl, Raina. More than you even know. You’ve been released from a worthless identity and given one that most people could only dream of possessing.”
“You almost sound like it’ll be permanent.” Suppose the countess decided she didn’t want her life back? That her troubles were better off on someone else’s shoulders?
This question dimmed the intensity in his eyes, replacing the sparks with a dull darkness. “No, it will not. That I can promise you. The change is thorough, but it is not permanent.”
16
People are often afraid to truly look into the heart of who they are, because those inner rooms echo so loudly with one lonely question: Am I enough?
~Diary of a Substitute Countess
She followed me about like a vapor as I strode through her home that evening, attempting not to think about the woman whose life I had so thoroughly stolen—or borrowed, or kindly accepted as a gracious favor. When I paced through the house to shut up the abandoned rooms again, I heard movement within and paused to be sure it was not simply my skittish imagination. Hardly anyone ventured into them.
When a thunk sounded inside, curiosity drew me, and I pushed through the double doors. Only bluish moon glow lit the space. A lone figure stood with his back to me across the old library, hands in his pockets. My toe kicked loose debris and the intruder spun. It was Sully, and he studied me with flecks of intensity lighting his shadowed eyes. I remained still in the hushed room and allowed his steady gaze to pass over me. “What are you doing in here?”
“Bradford is worried about a collapse. He didn’t want the whole house to go with it, so I said I’d see if anything could be done.”
“Repairs will be made.”
“The matter is becoming urgent. You’d best not put it off much longer.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared at me for several silent moments. “How long will you put off reality, Raina? You are not her. This is not your life, and it’s time you face it.”
“What would you have me do, go back to Spitalfields? Give up on everything?” Give up on you? I looked at the floor as the truth gathered and clogged in my throat. “I’m in a position to help people, Sully.”
“This isn’t about helping people anymore, is it? Maybe it started that way, but now it’s something else. It’s about you, and what you think you want to be. You’ve lost sight of everything else—including who you truly are.”
I remembered Philip’s bold accusation. Self-important. That’s my second word for you. I nearly poured out the truth, everything about Victor’s threats, but that was like starting a fire in the woods and hoping it didn’t spread. One word from me would create a giant blaze I’d never be able to contain. “Believe me when I tell you that self-importance is the furthest thing from my list of flaws. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Insecurity is one of the greatest hurdles I face, and it always has been.”
“One feeds the other. A person can find a whole lot of flaws when she spends lots of time staring at herself.”
“How could you—”
“Do you ever think about her? Wonder what truly happened to her?” His words, quiet and sure, cut across my angry bursts. “In all of this splendor, have you stopped to ask yourself what you were helping to cover up? You might have risen into a finer life with all the respect and admiration you desire, but what happens to her while you’re doing it?”
I stiffened. “She’ll rest and strengthen her health so she can resume her life.” I gulped and the image of her portrait rose in my mind. Suddenly it struck me why I couldn’t bear to look at it. Questions about her troubled life poked at me all the time, assaulting me like little pebbles, but I had deflected them however I could because I didn’t want to face them, didn’t want to know the truth concerning the Countess of Enderly.
In truth, I’d avoided thinking about the details of the entire charade—of my deceit, of the danger, of the uncertain future. My mission was to keep beside me the man I had thought I lost, to save his life. The fate of a wealthy socialite who might or might not be in danger simply did not compare in my mind.
And in some buried corner of my heart, I did not want to pause to face the reality of who I truly was outside of this ruse. Of all the people who lacked respect for Ragna the rag seller, I topped them all.
“You are many things, Raina Bretton, but daft isn’t one of them. You can see as well as I do that there’s more to this story.”
“So what if there is?” My breath came hard and strong. “I know as much as you do on the matter. I am utterly in the dark and cannot do a thing about it. That isn’t self-importance, just ignorance. Perhaps she truly did need a rest from life. It isn’t easy, you know, living this way. Victor’s story might well be true.”
He glared at me, and my eyes flicked up to that portrait against my will, and I looked into her mesmerizing eyes so soft with great depth and heart. They seemed to be challenging me now, demanding that I understand her and untangle her secrets. Save her life. A house is merely a reflection of its mistress. I could no longer ignore what these rooms conveyed about the secrets in her life.
Sully’s voice cut through my thoughts. “The truth is, this woman is missing, and as long as you pretend to be her, enjoying her clothes and her house and her servants, no one knows to look for her. She could go on being missing forever and no one would know as long as you’re standing in her stead.”
I
slanted my gaze at the floor, my arms trembling even though I tensed them. That was the odd feeling that surfaced in these rooms—it was guilt. Despite the worry and danger, I had enjoyed living a different life, having fine clothing and esteem I’d never experienced before.
Sully strode forward and brushed a stray tendril from my forehead. My tension melted at his longed-for nearness. “What’s so bad about the girl you used to be? Tell me that. Why do you despise her so?”
“Because everyone else did.” The answer snapped out before even a breath of thought. I covered my mouth with my hands, wishing I could take back the foolish-sounding words.
“People are not mirrors, Raina. Just because some like you better as the countess in your fine clothes and fancy house doesn’t mean you are better.” He paused, looking into my eyes. “Your dreams used to be bigger than impressing people and dressing fancy. You had such passion, fighting for people, chasing down adventures, and wrestling an income from castoffs. What happened to that girl?”
Hot tears squeezed out and trickled down my cheeks. “I am still those things, but I’m learning how to be more too.”
“I’ll tell you a secret, Raina. The weakest version of the real you is stronger than the best imitation of someone else.”
I wished I could agree. If only I could have been a normal girl, wearing normal clothes and working at a normal trade, perhaps I’d have been content to be who I was. Yet I wasn’t—I was the seller of castoffs. The wearer of castoffs. The ultimate castoff. Panic tightened my chest as if I were even now facing the scorn that was like the musty air I’d breathed. Was I doomed to such an identity?
I couldn’t go back. Just couldn’t. “I don’t want to be what I was. No more Ragna.” This countess had handed over her life, asked for a replacement. She’d wanted this. And I definitely hadn’t gone out seeking this lot. I’d been requested, nearly begged, to take it. All I’d done was agree—and then become enraptured with the taste of it.
“There’s far more to it than that.” He gripped my arms, and I became overly aware of him, this wonderful, lively man who had loomed large in my life and his memory even larger when he left. Now he was here, before me. Delightfully, achingly near. Alone with me. His breath fanned over my face. “You don’t merely sell rags. You find value in what is cast aside and bring it back to life, make it valuable again. Give it a piece of your own beauty. That’s powerful, Raina, and just one of the many things that makes you so . . .” He searched my eyes, his passion for me glowing from every plane and helplessly melting the end off his sentence.
His breath grew shaky as he became aware as I was of our nearness. So long we’d craved one another, separately counting the days until we could be together again, and now we stood mere inches apart yet still separated. I felt the certainty of his feelings in his very posture, in the gentle yet firm grip on my arms. “Do you love me, Raina? Do you? How desperately I wished you could respond to my letters, tell me how you felt. It was like tossing my heart into a black hole and hoping someone would catch it. I want to hear it from you, in your own words, your voice.”
As I sank into the dizzying moment, scrambling for words eloquent enough to carry the weight of years’ worth of feelings for this man, he touched my lips with his thumb, stopping the flow of my thoughts in a sacred moment suspended in the chaos around us. His caress slid to my cheek with the barest brush of his finger, as if afraid I’d run away. I gulped and looked up into his eyes. “Sully, I want—”
He moved close until his forehead touched mine. His eager eyes watched me with an inviting sparkle. “Kiss me.”
“Now? Here?”
“Or I’ll tell everyone your secret.”
I slid my hands up to his arms, delighting in the nearness. “That’s bribery.”
His mouth twitched up in a gentle grin. “So?”
I closed my eyes and imagined in a thousand fleeting sensations what it would feel like to kiss this man I’d adored for years. His nose brushed my cheek, then a door slammed and I jerked back, heart thumping clear up to my throat. Footsteps sounded nearby, coming closer.
“We can’t. Not now.”
He stepped back, the playful twinkle dulled. “I’m not an actor, Raina. You may be able to pretend what isn’t true, but I cannot promise to keep this up. Not anymore.”
“It’s just for a time, and then we can walk away from this and into our own life, together and . . . alive.” I wavered at the edge of my secrecy, wondering if I should take the plunge and tell him the truth. I drank in the sight of his face, the wonderful knowledge that he was alive and here, and I couldn’t do it. He was my rescuer, and for once, I was rescuing him. I owed him that, and so much more. “For now, everyone must believe I’m the countess. Including me.”
He lifted his bright gaze to mine. “I’ll know. I’ll always know you’re not her. No amount of looking alike or wishful thinking will make you her.”
I pivoted away as crushing defeat consumed me. “Stop it. Just . . . stop.” I had to find her. This had to end.
“Why must you stay here? What is it that ties you to this place? Help me understand, Raina. Explain it.”
Tension curled in me. The answer burned the tip of my tongue. Sentences formed and disintegrated.
“Tell me.” He took hold of my shoulders. “I cannot bear to pretend anymore that I feel nothing for you.”
My stress exploded in a dagger of words. “It’s what you’ve done for years!”
I pinched my lips after the terrible outburst. His face paled. I closed my eyes, hands over my face. When I opened them, he was gone.
I glanced over at Victor in the study as he shuffled through papers, and I looked out over the gardens. The weight of my interlude with Sully still lay heavily on me, demanding that I end this by finding the real countess. I’d never felt more ready to leave this place, but I had to tread carefully.
I ambled toward Victor, lifted a casual frown. “I’m bound to make a mistake, you know. I nearly did, when Lady Remington tried to open a debate with me. Lady Enderly was well versed in politics, and I know next to nothing on the matter.”
“Hardly. Lady Enderly has a much finer skill than political expertise—keen wit. It provides her with the right words for any question, and she is always a huge success at gatherings.”
“She must have more than wit.”
He looked away with a shrug, but I glimpsed a strange energy in his eyes. “There’s something about her, about the way she speaks, that makes a person excited about anything simply because she is. She can make anyone believe something as firmly as she does after a single conversation with them. It’s like magic.”
“That is a valuable talent.” I fingered the top rail of a little chair before me. “I was thinking. Might it be a wise idea to have Lady Enderly herself teach me that?”
He froze, then turned back to me. “Why ever would you do that?”
“Who better to teach me to be the countess than her? I’ve been thinking about how much I could learn from her about many things, from dress to—”
“No. We’ve no need to bring her into it.”
“But if—”
“I said no.” He turned a powerful look on me that stilled my speech. “She deserves a break from this, and I’ll not have you intruding upon her. You’re not to ask again. Is that clear?”
He sank back into the desk chair, and I watched his suddenly stoic face. A tiny chill curled around my belly. Half of me had believed his story of the countess needing rest until that exact moment. Then I knew in every part of my being that there was evil hidden somewhere in this mess. Somehow I found myself in the position of being one of the only people who could stop it.
Excusing myself, I exited and made my way to my bedchamber. Dinner would be soon, and I needed to be ready.
I tensed as Simone brushed out my hair, pulling it this way and that to ensure her brush attacked every strand. This exercise had left my scalp aching when I’d first arrived, but now I hardly flinched. Th
ey’d begun to oil my hair as well, and the healthy sheen was only improved by the silver brush wielded by my lady’s maid.
I inhaled the aroma of all the powders and potions lining my table and exhaled the worries still plaguing my mind about dinner. I craved privacy, which seemed a rarity in this place. “You needn’t bother with an elaborate toilette tonight, Simone. I’ve no one to impress.” I wished desperately to be free of her fingers.
“Will you be dining alone tonight, mistress?”
“No, but there is no one at the dinner table who will pay any mind to my appearance.”
Her burnished black eyes met mine in the mirror. “And the second footman?”
Tension collected along my spine, stiffening my muscles. “What of him?”
“He notices.”
I met her steady gaze with more courage than I felt. Was it a warning or a taunt? I stared at her placid face in the mirror, but it revealed as much as a murky pond.
When I descended the stairs, my hand gliding along the well-oiled bannister, the front door slammed below with the power of thunder that rattled my tender nerves, and boot stomps echoed up from the front entry. I slowed my steps and watched from my perch halfway up the grand staircase, and an odd sense of worry assailed me.
Then he strode into the candlelight of the front hall, a stranger tall and dashing in a long coat. He whipped off his coat and practically threw it toward the poor butler, who seemed unmoved by the display. His angry gaze whipped about the room as a low, beastly growl emanated from his chest. Three words tore from down deep in his being. “Where is she?”
I shuddered as I realized who this was—at last I’d come face-to-face with the great and terrible earl. I huddled back into the shadows, clinging to the wooden embellishment on the railing and wondering if I should flee.
“She’ll be along for dinner, my lord.”
The man growled again and pulled a pocket watch from his jacket, inspecting it with a deep frown freezing over his features. It was a handsome face, severe as it was, and younger than I’d imagined. He couldn’t have been older than thirty, but a world of bitterness had etched itself deep into the lines of his countenance, aging him considerably. Long sideburns that extended to his jawline only made him look more severe, like a wolf.
Finding Lady Enderly Page 14