During those three days, Katie saw nothing of Ethan, and she spent her time enjoying her life of luxury. Every day, she dined on wonderful food, took carriage rides on the Common, and tried on every gown as it was delivered from Elizabeth Waring’s shop. Every night, she took a long soak in the bathtub Ethan had provided for her and slept dreamlessly in the plush softness of her feather bed. She knew that all of this high living would end when Lowden returned, but she fully intended to enjoy it while it lasted. Ever since she was a child, Katie had lived for the moment, and if she had vague moments of uneasiness or guilt, she pushed them aside.
Thanks to the comforts Ethan’s money afforded, her life was perfect. In fact, it was almost too perfect. After three days of it, Katie was actually in danger of becoming bored. She was accustomed to living on the hard edge of life, and after three days of luxurious living, she began to realize that, while enjoyable, luxury could easily become monotonous. She found herself looking forward to Ethan’s dinner party.
As he had told her, his carriage came for her promptly at seven o’clock, and by quarter past the hour, she was standing in the wide foyer of his elegant house, handing her sable-trimmed wrap to a butler even more staid and impassive than her own.
The night she had followed Ethan home from the Mermaid, he had taken her inside through the back door, and the house had been dark and silent. She had known by the plush comfort of his library that he lived well, but now, standing in the marble-tiled front entrance of his home, with an immense crystal chandelier high over her head and a thick Aubusson rug beneath her feet, she could truly appreciate that fact.
“Mr. Harding is in the music room, ma’am,” the butler told her. “This way.”
Katie followed him past the sweeping staircase and through a set of double doors. After announcing her, the butler departed, closing the doors behind him. Ethan rose to greet her, and she couldn’t help laughing at the sight of his elegant, almost dandified clothes.
“What are you laughing about?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said, pressing her fingers to her lips in a futile attempt to suppress her amusement, “but I can’t seem to get used to seeing you in lace cravats and breeches. And a purple waistcoat, for heaven’s sake. You look so different in your oilskins.”
“That’s the idea,” he said dryly. “But I thought you said you would always be able to recognize me, despite my attire.”
“So I would.” She didn’t tell him it was because she always pictured him the way she had first seen him—dressed in the rough clothes of the docks, with his black hair caught back in a queue, leaning back in a tavern chair, looking as dangerous as a cobra ready to strike. Elegant clothes and powdered hair could not change that.
“Would you like a sherry?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” She settled back on the gold brocade settee as he poured her wine. “What is the purpose of this party, anyway?” she asked. “Is there something specific you wish me to do?”
“Not tonight.” He handed her the glass of sherry and sat down beside her. “I have a specific assignment in mind for you, but tonight, I am merely establishing your acquaintanceship with me to my Tory friends.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you told me exactly what this bargain of ours will entail for me?” She took a sip of wine. “I have the right to know.”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “I know you do.” He set his glass aside and turned to her. “Katie, I have one task for you, and one task only. If you can fulfill it, your freedom from indenture to Willoughby is yours.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to find out everything you can about one man. Viscount Lowden.”
She froze with her glass raised halfway to her lips, but somehow she managed to recover her poise after only an instant and took another sip of wine. “Who is he?”
“He has come from London, supposedly to be a liaison between Governor Gage and Lord North, who is the king’s chief minister in London.”
“Supposedly? What do you mean?” Katie’s mind raced as she asked these questions. Lowden wanted her to spy on John Smith, who was really Ethan Harding, and Ethan wanted her to spy on Lowden. This was getting complicated, and Katie began to feel as if she were a circus juggler with too many balls in the air.
“I believe Lowden’s declared purpose is not his true one, and I want to know what he is really doing in Boston. My normal channels of information have been unable or unwilling to tell me that information, so I am hoping you can help me find out.”
“I see.” Katie already knew Lowden’s true purpose—to find proof against Whig seditionists—and for a moment, the thought crossed her mind that she could pretend to find that out somehow, tell Ethan, and have him buy her indenture. But then she remembered the arrest warrant Lowden held against her and dismissed the idea. No, Lowden was her only choice. She had to remain on his side. “But you don’t wish me to begin this assignment tonight?”
“There is no point. Lowden is away. He is in New York for another week or so. But in the interim, our time will not be wasted. This week gives me the opportunity to establish you in my circle of friends. I will also have other tasks for you to do. Tomorrow, for instance, we will spend the afternoon together, and the following day, you will run a very important errand for me. By the way, beginning tonight, you’re an actress.”
“What?”
“You are a London actress, a protégée and understudy of Mary Black, and you have just arrived in Boston.”
She took a sip of sherry. “And why did I leave my promising career to come here?”
“You had a very severe illness and, as a result, lost your voice for a long time. Because of that, you also lost your mentor. Though you have recovered and are no longer ill, you wanted a change of scene and society. So you decided to come to the colonies for an indefinite stay. Your name is Mrs. Armstrong.”
“And what happened to Mr. Armstrong?”
“He died. You’re a widow.”
“And because I’m an actress, I’m also of a loose moral character and very likely to be some man’s mistress,” she concluded. “In this case, yours.”
“Quite so.”
Katie had no doubts about her acting ability and was able to play her part easily enough that evening as she was introduced to Ethan’s acquaintances, and the story he had concocted regarding her background was put to good use. She also fancied that she came across convincingly as both an actress and a mistress.
Her memories of life with her mother were somewhat vague, but during the course of the evening, Katie discovered how much of her childhood she actually remembered as she took on the role her mother had played in life. She found herself adopting her mother’s demeanor, meeting the speculative looks of Ethan’s guests with a naturalness that somewhat surprised her.
Because Ethan was an unmarried man, and she professed to be a widow with her own household, total discretion regarding their relationship was not required, and Katie was glad of it. Her mother had been in a different position, the unmarried mistress of a married man with whom she had lived openly, and the veiled contempt with which she had been treated was something Katie did not particularly wish to experience.
Instead, when Ethan introduced her as his friend, Mrs. Armstrong, most of the guests accepted the relationship without raising an eyebrow. They must surely have concluded she was Ethan’s mistress, but most were too well bred to show it. There was one exception, a man named Holbrook, and his reaction was far more boorish than that of any other guest. “An actress, eh?” he said, giving her a wink. “I didn’t know Ethan even liked the theater. He must be able to see some plays that we don’t.”
He laughed heartily at his own words. Ethan gave the other man a polite smile, but Katie could see it was a smile that did not reach his eyes. He took her elbow and steered her away from Holbrook, insisting there were other guests she had to meet.
“Thank you,” she whispered as he guided her away.
“I�
��m sorry about that,” he said as they took up a place at the opposite end of the room. “Holbrook’s a pig.”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “You’re angry.”
He didn’t answer, but the tight set of his mouth confirmed her conclusion, and she felt a tiny throb of pleasure. “Be careful,” she murmured, unable to resist teasing him. “You might start falling madly in love with me.”
“God, I hope not. You’d lead any man in love with you a sorry chase.”
That was so true, she couldn’t help laughing. “Thank you very much. You know, Ethan, if you don’t flatter your mistress occasionally, you just might find she’s left you for another man.”
“I see. And of the other men in this room, which would you choose?”
She pretended to give the matter serious consideration and finally settled on the tall, blond man standing nearby. “That one.”
“Not possible. Travertine wouldn’t be at all attracted to you.”
“You are overwhelming me with flattery this evening. And why would he not find me attractive?”
Ethan flashed her a grin as she took a sip of sherry. “You’re a woman.”
She choked. “He likes boys?”
“I believe I’ve shocked you.”
“Not at all. ’Tis a pity, though. He’s so handsome.” She gave an aggrieved sigh. “Why is it the handsome ones always prefer boys?”
“That hurts, Katie. Do you feel better now that you’ve evened the score?”
“Yes,” she said, aware that she was smiling like a cat who’d found the cream pitcher. “I believe I do.”
“My opinion remains unchanged. God help any man who falls in love with you.”
Katie caught Holbrook studying her across the room, and when he began moving toward them, she groaned. “Holbrook is coming this way.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“If Holbrook is such a pig, why do you invite him to your parties?”
“He is one of Gage’s aides, and he gives me a great deal of valuable information. Especially when he’s drunk, which is quite often. Besides, his wife, Rosalie, is a nice and lovely woman.”
“He has a wife? A nice, lovely one?”
“Hard to believe, but yes. Even more surprising, his wife is actually said to love him dearly.”
“Perhaps,” Katie said with all the cynicism of her lifetime. “But I just hope he stays away from me. If he doesn’t, I’ll do something rude.”
“You have my permission to kick him under the dinner table.”
To her relief, and probably Ethan’s as well, that action did not prove to be necessary. They were seated at opposite ends of the table, and Ethan was quite skillful at keeping Holbrook away from her. As the evening went on, Katie found herself rather enjoying her part. There was a certain excitement in it, especially when she glanced up to find Ethan watching her, with that half smile on his face, and she would find herself smiling back. Whenever their eyes met, it was curiously intimate, as if they shared a secret.
Which was true, she supposed. They did share a secret, a secret she would be forced to reveal to his enemy in only a few days’ time. But whenever she looked at Ethan and found him smiling at her, she wished she did not have to choose between his destruction and her own.
The following day, Ethan called for her as he had told her he would, and if he had some treasonous deviltry in mind for their afternoon and evening together, he gave no sign of it. He simply suggested they take a stroll toward the marketplace.
Though the day was cold, the sun was shining, and the skies were crystalline blue, making it a perfect day for walking, but from what Ethan had told her the night before, he had a deeper purpose for their afternoon than simply being seen strolling together.
When she asked him what that purpose might be, he smiled and said, “You are very fond of bookstores.”
“I am?”
“Indeed. You have been told that the London Bookstore is the place to find an excellent bound copy of Shakespeare’s complete works.”
Katie gave an unladylike whistle. The London Bookstore was owned by Mr. Henry Knox, and the patriot sentiments of Mr. Knox himself were common knowledge. He was a Whig down to his fingertips. “Is it wise for you to be seen in a patriot bookstore?”
“No, and that is why you are going there instead of me. Being a stranger in Boston, posing as someone who has no political sentiments, you can enter a Whig bookstore without suspicion. No one will think it odd.”
“And while I am shopping for Shakespeare’s complete works, what will you be doing?”
“Having a cup of tea at the coffeehouse down the street. When we get close to Knox’s establishment, we will part company. When you’ve finished there, you can meet me at the coffeehouse.”
“But what is my real reason for going there?”
“As I said, you are buying a book.” Before she could ask more questions, he spoke again. “Are you settled into your house? Is everything comfortable for you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Have any mice returned?”
“Not a mouse in sight,” she assured him. “Though mice do have a habit of coming back.”
“Perhaps that’s why I brought you this.” Ethan came to a halt beside a newspaper seller and reached inside his cloak. “I have a gift for you.”
First the cloak, then the house, the servants, and the clothes. Now he wanted to give her another present? Katie was dismayed. She thought of her mother, dependent on gifts from a man, but she was not in that position. Even more important, she was there to find evidence to betray this man. She didn’t want gifts from him. “You don’t need to be so nice to me,” she told him. “Just because we’re playing out this charade that I’m your mistress, giving me presents is carrying it a bit far, don’t you think?”
He started to speak, but she forestalled him. “It isn’t necessary. Men do buy their mistresses expensive gifts. I know that my own mother received diamonds, gold, and all sorts of other baubles, but I don’t want them.”
“I understand,” he began, “but this isn’t much of a gift, believe me. It’s a trifling thing—”
“Perhaps it is,” she interrupted as she held up one hand to stop him from speaking, “but I cannot accept it. Ethan, the clothes and the house are necessary for me to play my part, I understand that. But beyond that, I won’t be beholden to you in any way.”
During her little speech, he watched her with an intent expression on his face, as if every word she uttered was vitally important, but Katie did not miss the slight tilt at one corner of his mouth. He was really the most unaccountable man. She frowned, suddenly suspicious. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said gravely. “But I must confess that the idea of giving you gold and diamonds never occurred to me.” He pulled something out of the inner pocket of his cloak and held it out to her. “Although if you were to insist upon it, I could have the jeweler make him a diamond-studded collar, I suppose.”
Katie stared at the small bundle of orange fur he held out to her, and she could not think of a thing to say. She opened her mouth, and closed it again.
In his hand was a kitten, still quite young, and small enough that Ethan held it easily in the palm of his hand. It looked at her and gave a faint, mewling cry.
To Katie, that helpless sound was like a rock hitting a window. It shattered something inside her—the hard and brittle armor of cynicism and detachment she had worn for most of her life, armor so comfortable to her that she hadn’t even known it was there until now, when she felt it falling around her in pieces on the ground.
She stared at the kitten, looking into the round green eyes that peered at her from between Ethan’s fingers, and she felt herself coming apart.
Ethan did not appear to notice. He turned the kitten’s face toward his own and studied it for a few seconds. “I got her from my kitchen maid,” he said nonchalantly. “If she turns out anything like her mother, who i
s the destroyer of rats in my household, she’ll weigh a full stone or more, and she’ll be as big and fat as a Christmas ham.”
No man had ever done anything thoughtful for her, at least not without the expectation of something in return, and she could not quite take it in. She stood there, staring stupidly at the animal cradled in his hand, and she was unable to utter a word.
“I think she’ll be able to dispatch any mice that dare to invade your larder,” he told her, and turned the animal back around so she could see its face. “Wouldn’t you agree? I mean to say, who needs a tiger from India when you have a fierce mouser such as this?”
Katie started to laugh, but her laughter changed to a sob, and she found to her mortification that she was doing something she had not done since she was a little girl. She was crying. She was standing in the midst of a public street, with hordes of people all around her, with tears falling down her cheeks.
She reached for the kitten and took it from his hand. She buried her face against the soft fur to brush away her tears, and though she struggled to regain control, she could not seem to manage it. The worst part of it was that she could not even understand why she was crying. She never cried. Never.
Ethan said nothing. He simply reached into another pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He held it out to her without a word, and when she took it, he turned away, giving her time to compose herself. He pretended to study the newspapers stacked nearby, while Katie tucked the kitten into the warm shelter of her cloak pocket and put his handkerchief to good use.
Once she had her emotions in check, she and Ethan continued their walk down the street as if nothing had happened. Neither of them spoke. Ethan made no attempt to talk, and for that she was grateful. She could not have managed conversation just now.
She had spent most of her life hardening herself against the world by caring for no one, protecting herself from painful disappointments with a jaded mind and a jaundiced eye, always believing the worst and keeping fear at bay with a shell of brash self-confidence.
The Charade Page 16