Imposter Bride (23 page)

Ramsay suspected his assistant would linger on the
other side of the door, listening for news about Miss Hinds, having
voiced his interest in her future. At least Puckett’s interest in
her welfare was genuine.

Lady Auliffe placed both hands on her gold-tipped
cane. “You were candid with me last night,” she said. Her gaze
wandered around the room. Did she evaluate everything and everyone
around her? Yet did not he do the same thing? He had to admire the
quality. Then her piercing brown eyes came to rest upon him. “I
appreciate that in a person.”

“But it distressed Katherine. And I am sorry for
it.”

“You were only thinking of her future. There’s
nothing wrong in that.”

“She will make a lovely countess.”

“Which brings me to the other reason for my
visit.”

“And what is that?”

“Money.” She reached for her claret. “I trust you,
Mr. Ramsay. Do you think that odd?”

“Yes.” He reached for his coffee.

“Any other man would have said what they thought I
wanted to hear last night. You didn’t. You spoke your mind.”

Ramsay took a gulp of coffee, knowing he was far
less than what she believed him to be.

“It is because of your frankness that I am here. I
need some information. And I know you’ll be honest with me.”

Ramsay glanced up. “What sort of information?”

“I’ve heard rumors since coming back to London.”

“About what?”

“About Edward Metcalf. That he may be in serious
financial trouble.”

“He gambles. That much I know.” Ramsay took another
sip of coffee, unwilling to allow his respect for Lady Auliffe to
endanger his own agenda.

“And his losses?”

“I could not say, ma’am.”

“Can not or will not?” At his silence, she sniffed.
“Come now, Mr. Ramsay. Surely you must have some idea of his
financial condition.”

“If you wish to discover such information, I suggest
you ask Metcalf himself.”

“Damnation!” She struck her cane sharply on the
floor. “Tell me!”

Unmoved by her dramatics, Ramsay rose. “It is not my
practice to discuss the state of my customer’s finances. Surely you
understand.”

“And surely you know to whom you are speaking.”

Ramsay’s chin rose. She was not aware of his
contempt for such a phrase. The old anger flared, choking him, the
same anger his father had felt for a race that had repressed his
people and eventually killed him. “Oh, I know all right,” he
replied, rage chilling each word into separate shards of ice,
belying his claim to a dispassionate nature. “
Madam
.”

She seemed to sense she’d reached a dangerous limit
with him. Scowling, she rose. “And Katherine? You would refuse to
help Katherine?”

“She has you.” He met her gaze, his eyes as hard as
hers. “What more could she possibly need?”

“You will stand by and watch her wed a wastrel?”

Yes, he would. It was part of his plan, a plan that
was progressing more smoothly than he could have hoped, thanks to
the beauty and charm of a maidservant from the West Indies.

“I would like to help,” Ramsay stated at last. “For
Katherine’s sake. But I cannot.”

“I see that I misjudged you,” she retorted, her
voice clipped.

“Apparently you did.”

It was the truth. He was nowhere near the man she
thought him to be, and nowhere near the man Sophie Vernet deserved.
Ramsay rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger, feeling
the harbinger throb of a crippling migraine.

That afternoon, with every twist in the hedgerow
path, Sophie felt a growing disquiet. She had come to Hyde Park on
her daily promenade with Edward, but had never experienced the
sensation of being trapped before.

“Whatever is the matter?” Edward questioned. He drew
to a stop in a clearing where they were surrounded by tall shrubs,
trimmed to form an impassable wall of green. Sophie thought she saw
a flap of a cloak disappear behind the corner at her right. “What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied. An escalating sense of dread
pulsed through her, sure now that she was being followed.

“You’re trembling,” Edward murmured, using the
excuse to draw her against him as he embraced her from behind.
“You’re cold!”

“Edward,” she protested, having enough to deal with
as it was, without fending off his constant and increasingly
aggressive advances.

“Shush, my dove.” He nuzzled her neck and sighed in
her ear. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for weeks!”

“Please,” she said, trying to step away without
causing a scene. “Someone might see.”

He held her tightly. “Haven’t you wondered what it
will be like?” he asked.

“What
what
will be like?” She played the
innocent, all the while wondering how she would get out of this
situation without insulting the earl.

His hands moved upward, and even through her heavy
woolen cloak, she could feel the pressure of his fingers upon her
breasts. He squeezed them and sighed raggedly.

“You’re so lovely,” he gasped. “I’m quite beside
myself!”

“Edward, don’t—”

“You must allow me this,” he replied, his lips at
her neck. “I have been so good. So good.” His breathing became more
labored with each moment and his hands ever more bold. She shook
her shoulders, breaking free of him, but he apparently thought she
was teasing him. Laughing, he caught her up again, and this time
pulled her close to him, face to face.

“I cannot wait until we are wed,” he confided. “Let
me come to you, Katherine. Let me come to you tonight. I’ll go mad
if you don’t! I’m in absolute pain!”

Before she could move, his mouth clenched over hers,
and he pressed her head back until it was clear he meant to have
his way with her, whether she wanted it or not. Could he not tell
she did not return his ardor? Did he not care that her fists were
pushing him away?

“You try to fight it, I know,” he gasped. “But you
can’t. ‘Tis a fever, Katherine, burning like I’ve never known!”

She yanked away from his mouth and pulled back,
wrenching her arms free. Then she slapped his face with all her
strength. He staggered backward, holding his cheek, as an
expression of sheer disbelief spread across his face.

Could he possibly have thought she was enjoying his
attentions?

Sophie stood before him, her chest heaving with
alarm and shock at her violent reaction to his advances. Then she
bolted down the nearest path, putting as much space between Edward
Metcalf and herself as her shaking legs would provide.

He didn’t call after her and didn’t run after her,
which at first relieved her and then worried her. How would she get
home without his carriage? Soon it would be dark. She was miles
from the Carlisle house. She had been a fool to push him away.
Surely a woman of the world such as Lady Auliffe would have managed
the situation with more aplomb.

Still, she couldn’t go back. He was probably not
only angry, but embarrassed by the scene that had just transpired
and in no humor to do her bidding. Sophie kept running, worried
that this time she had gone too far.

She ran, plagued by memories of being pursued and
frightened by the thought that she had been followed all that day.
Through the maze she stumbled, toward what she thought was the
entrance of the park. The twisting hedgerows had always seemed a
pleasant puzzle before, but now they closed in upon her like a
constricting labyrinth whose end was nowhere in sight. Darkness
fell with alarming speed as she struggled to find her way out.

Gasping and terrified, she pushed forward, until she
realized she’d get nowhere unless she got control of herself
first.

“Buck up!” she admonished herself through gritted
teeth. “You’ve been this way a dozen times. Think!”

She marshaled her self-control, calling upon her
anger to see her through. Who were these men to kiss her with such
selfish hunger—both Edward Metcalf and that Captain Ramsay. Neither
of them cared to know what she thought of their attentions, or what
was in her heart. They’d taken what they wanted in blatant
disregard of her feelings, thinking only of their male lust and
what they assumed was her money. Damn them both to hell.

Rage renewed her courage. She pressed on and soon
recognized a turn that was close to the entrance of the maze.
Seconds later, she took another corner and saw the opening just a
few paces ahead. Her heart burst with relief, and she dashed
forward.

Soon Sophie had gained the lawn of the park, the
fountain, and the walkways. At the edge of the avenue alongside the
park, she could see the Metcalf carriage waiting. But to her
relief, she saw there were also carriages for hire sitting at the
curb. She dug into her reticule for the money Lady Auliffe had
insisted she take, claiming that financial independence gave a
woman many more choices in the world, and that she should never go
out without funds to get back. Bless the old lady for her
foresight.

Once safely inside the hired carriage, Sophie sank
back. Edward had frightened and disgusted her. She felt sorry for
the young lady who would eventually marry the cad.

Sophie hurried to the entry of the Carlisle house
and pushed open the door to the house, which was ablaze with
candles as usual. Even though she and her grandmother were the only
people in the house, other than servants, Lady Auliffe demanded
that the fireplaces be kept burning in most of the rooms as well as
braces of candles kept lighted. Sophie had never known such
extravagance or comfort. But she did not linger. She had no desire
to talk to anyone, and did not want to be quizzed about the events
of the afternoon. She was still quite angry with Edward and knew it
would show in her face.

“Did you have a nice walk, dear?” Lady Auliffe
called out as Sophie hurried past the drawing room and headed for
the stairs.

Sophie paused at the doorway. “Yes, thank you.” She
unbuttoned her cloak while Neat and Tidy scampered up to her
wagging their tails.

“Will Edward be staying for tea?”

“He begged off.” Sophie reached down and patted the
dogs. “He wasn’t feeling well. I think he had too much to drink
last night.”

“Young men these days.” Lady Auliffe shook her head
as she rose. “Well as for evening plans, I am having dinner later
with my friend, Sarah Bingham. Would you like to come along?”

“No thank you. I’m rather tired after all the
excitement of last night.”

“You’ll be all right here alone?”

“Of course.” She smiled, although she could not wait
to go up to her room and collapse. “I think I’ll have a bath.”

“I’ll send William up with the tub.”

“Thank you.”

Sophie climbed the stairs, slower now that the
threat of extensive conversation had dissipated, and with her
slower steps came the memory of Edward’s mouth on her neck and his
hands on her body. How could she consider marrying someone whose
slightest touch made her skin crawl? She could not let this charade
continue another day. The lying was bad enough—especially to Lady
Auliffe, who had been nothing but wonderful to her—but the prospect
of marrying the earl was too daunting to contemplate.

She could see only one recourse. She would go to Ian
Ramsay, tell him everything, ask him for a loan to get her started
in Boston, and leave the country as soon as possible. Though he
might not love her in the way she loved him, she was certain he
would help her if she asked him for assistance.

That night, when her grandmother had left for her
dinner engagement, Sophie dressed in the old blue gown she had worn
in what seemed another lifetime—yet not even a month had passed she
had assumed the identity of Katherine Hinds. Sophie glanced down at
the skirt of the garment. Mrs. Betrus had laundered, mended and
pressed the dress, and it seemed almost as good as new. After she
had buttoned the bodice, she drew on a plain cloak and draped the
generous hood over her hair, donned a pair of sturdy shoes and warm
gloves, and slipped out of a back entrance of the house. No one
would recognize her as the heiress now.

She set off for the captain’s townhouse, having
memorized the shortest way between the two locations. She went by
foot, as she couldn’t chance taking one of the carriages for fear
of Lady Auliffe discovering her plans for the evening.

The night air was brisk and no rain fell, and for
that she was grateful. She hurried along the dark streets, her head
down, praying she would not be accosted before she reached Ian’s
door.

While she walked, she formed small conversations in
her mind, listing things she wanted to say to Ian and imagining
what he might say in return. As she listened to the conversations
in her head, she realized she wanted more than just assistance from
him, she wanted the truth behind his strange mercurial behavior.
His past behavior tormented her—the way he would embrace her and
kiss her and then turn away as if nothing had transpired between
them. Before she left London, she had to know why he had never
fully opened up to her.

Sophie decided the best plan was not to beg or
grovel for his affections. The best course was to be forthright and
to demand that he tell her the truth as well. Above all, what she
wanted from him was the truth.

Sophie hadn’t gone more than a mile, however, when
she turned a corner, and two men jumped out of the shadows and
grabbed her.

Terrified, Sophie cried out, and tried to struggle
free.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

“Quiet!” One of them barked. “Another word and I’ll
shoot.”

Two men jostled Sophie to an awaiting coach. Sophie
glanced over her shoulder, searching for someone who might notice
her plight but saw no one else on the street that late at night. In
the murky evening light, she was just another woman dressed warmly
against the chill being accompanied by two very solicitous
companions.