Imposter Bride (31 page)

“Dammit!” he exclaimed, holding his shin. His legs
were very slender, and Sophie worried that he might have broken a
bone.

“Are you all right?” she asked, trying not to
breathe too deeply when bending close. He reeked of whisky.

“The MacEwans should see to the stairs!” He shouted.
“I could have been killed!” He threw his glance around, as if
searching for an object to blame—a discarded shoe, spilled candle
wax, a cracked stone. Sophie could see nothing that would have
tripped him, save his own drunken clumsiness.

Edward slowly rose, bracing himself against the
stone wall while Sophie held his arm, certain he would wobble and
fall again.

He batted off her hand. “Don’t paw me!” he shouted.
“God, I hate being pawed!”

She stepped away, shocked by his angry tone but
believing his outburst was fired by jitters about the wedding in
the morning. Never having been around a drunken man before, she
stared at him, wondering what to do next.

His bleary gaze landed on her attire. “And what are
you doing wearing that hideous blanket?”

“I have something to tell you, Edward—”

She paused, struggling for the right words, and
before she could continue, someone banged at the front entry.
Sophie heard Jesse MacEwan scurry to the door.

“Someone is here,” Sophie whispered, not certain
Edward was aware of the noise.

“What do you think I am?” he retorted in a loud
voice. “Deaf?” He swayed down the stairs, his untied cravat hanging
at his neck. Sophie followed, hoping he would make it safely to the
bottom step.

When they turned at the newel post, she could see
the main entry, but the two figures standing in the shadows were
indistinguishable in the poor light. Warily, Sophie hung back,
distrustful of the appearance of anyone at Highclyffe.

“A Constable Keener to see you, sir,” Mrs. MacEwan
said with a small bow.

Sophie’s heart skipped a beat and then thudded into
her throat. What was Constable Keener doing here? She hung back,
frozen in place and felt a chilling sensation of doom closing in on
her. How had he known to come to Scotland? Charlotte or Lady
Auliffe must have told him of her plans.

“What does he want?” Edward asked, his words
slurred.

“He says it very important—something about your
fiancée.”

“What could that be?” He glanced back at Sophie and
blinked, as if he couldn’t bring her into focus.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Sophie murmured.

“Well, he’s not going to interfere, that’s for
certain.” Edward grabbed her elbow. “Come with me,” he commanded,
when he should have better said, “Hold me up.”

She swallowed and forced her feet to walk forward
with Edward. This was her final and most difficult test yet in her
guise of Katherine Hinds. She must not falter now, not when she had
finally made up her mind about who she was and who she planned to
be for the rest of her days on earth. After she had come so far,
she couldn’t believe Constable Keener might ruin everything, might
finally capture his long-elusive prey.

Sophie threw back her shoulders and held her head
high, determined to play the part of Katherine Hinds as she had
never played it before.

As they crossed the floor of the main hall, Sophie
watched Constable Keener step out of the shadows and into the
flickering light of the wall sconces, his eyes fixed on Sophie, his
expression hungry and hard. He was dressed entirely in black,
except for his shirt. On Ramsay, the color black looked impeccably
elegant. On Constable Keener, the hue was wholly sinister. He
planted his staff on the floor and stepped up to it, as if coming
onto a stage.

“Lord Metcalf,” he said, sweeping a low bow over the
hat he pressed to his breast.

“Constable. I trust this is important.”

Keener rose, smiling, and his gaze shot back in
Sophie’s direction. “Oh, it ‘tis, it ‘tis. I’ve come all the way
from London with your interests in mind.”

“Miss Hinds,” he purred, sweeping her a bow as
well.

“Aren’t you a bit out of your jurisdiction?” Edward
drawled. Sophie wondered if Edward thought the constable had come
to Highclyffe to stop the wedding on legal grounds, instead of his
real purpose, about which Edward knew nothing.

“I am. But you will find my efforts well worth the
trip.”

“Get to the point, man! I’m tired. I’ve a wedding to
go to in the morning.”

“Perhaps not, your lordship.”

“What are you talking about? You can’t stop us.
We’re in Scotland!”

“You won’t want to go through with it, sir. Not when
you’ve heard what I have to say.”

Sophie wrapped her hands around Edward’s upper arm.
“His lordship is in no condition for this, constable.” She urged
Edward to turn around. “Come, Edward. You need to get some
sleep.”

“Fie on you!” Keener cried. “Imposter!”

“What’s that?” Edward veered forward, almost losing
his balance. “What d’you just say?”

“She’s an imposter, your lordship. I have
proof!”

“What?” Edward gaped at the constable, swung around
to stare at Sophie, and then turned back to the man in black.

“That’s right. She’s an imposter. I’ve been trailing
her for weeks while she pretended to be someone she is not. Thought
you’d bested me, didn’t you, girl?”

“Surely you are joking, sir,” Sophie retorted
coldly. Then she squeezed Edward’s arm and rose on tiptoe to speak
quietly in his ear, knowing the effect her warm breath would have
on the sensitive skin there. “Edward, let’s go to bed.”

“Fie!” Constable Keener gripped his staff more
tightly and gave it a shake. “She’s bewitching you! Do not succumb,
your lordship!”

Edward gazed down at her, a crooked smile on his
lips but a very dull look in his eyes. In his inebriated condition,
she could easily take him to bed without any compromising
consequences, should it come to that.

“Tell him to go away, Edward,” she implored.
“Please.”

Incensed, Constable Keener whirled around and lunged
for the shadows where he grabbed the other figure and pulled her
into the light. Sophie glanced at her, amazed to see the squat dark
form of Agnes Preston, her former mistress’ governess. Keener
clutched her by the wrist and dragged her forward. Sophie stared at
her in shock. Hadn’t Agnes died in the fire? Where had she been all
these weeks?

“Is it her?” Keener demanded, waving his hand before
Sophie.

Aware that her future hung on this single moment,
Sophie held her breath and gazed down at the woman, striving to
keep a flush from sweeping across her face.

Agnes curled her lip and stared at Sophie, from her
tousled hair to the tip of her walking boots.

“She’s changed, she has. But I’d recognize the twit
anywhere.” She smiled, triumphant and haughty. “It’s her all
right.”

“See!” Constable Keener cried.

“What in the deuce is this all about?” Edward
demanded. “Who is this person?”

“This person,” Keener explained, motioning toward
his small companion. “Is Katherine Hinds’ governess. The
real
Katherine Hinds’ governess.”

“What in blazes are you getting at?”

“I’m protecting you, your lordship. After weeks of
investigation, I finally found Katherine Hind’s governess. She’s
been afraid to come forward, as she ran off the night of the fire
with a furniture maker, and thought she would be in trouble with
her mistress.”

“We hardly care about this woman’s employment
difficulties,” Edward drawled.

“Yes, but you should care about the woman you intend
to marry.” Keener ran a hateful glance over Sophie. “She’s a liar,
a thief, and a murderess!”

“She’s a maidservant!” Agnes sneered, shaking her
head at Sophie, scolding her with her eyes. “With some nerve!”

“You’re mad!” Edward sputtered.

“My mistress died in the fire,” Agnes put in.
“According to the constable here, they recently found her locket,
the one she was wearing that night, on a badly burned corpse under
all the rubble.”

“Impossible!”

“This one,” Agnes pointed rudely at her, “is nothing
but a little cheat.”

“Put in your path by Ian Ramsay,” Constable Keener
added.

Sophie felt Edward stiffen, coming to attention at
last. “Did you say Ramsay? Ian Ramsay?”

“Yes. I’ve come to learn that he’s plotted against
you for some time now, using this little murderess to seduce you,
so he could get this very piece of property.” Constable Keener
swept the air with his free hand. “Highclyffe.”

Edward turned to Sophie, his eyes blazing. “Is this
true?” he barked. “Have you plotted with Ramsay against me?”

Sophie paled and her knees felt weak. Ramsay had
known? Ramsay had known all along who she was? And had used
her?

“No!” Her world swirled before her eyes. Ramsay had
known? He had been using her, pushing her into a rushed marriage to
get a piece of property? She felt sick with betrayal. She shook her
head, barely able to remain standing. “No, I have not! I didn’t
know!”

“She lies!” Agnes put in. “She does nothing but lie!
And it’s lucky for your lordship that my husband made me come
forward.”

“She’s that maidservant, the murderess?” Edward
blinked. “Sophie Vernet?”

“The same. She’s a pauper. She has nothing. Ramsay
cleaned her up, dressed her like an heiress and passed her off for
the real thing. He wanted you to fall in love with her and marry
her, because he alone knows you won’t inherit a dime should you wed
this woman in the morning.”

Edward ran his hand over his hair. He was utterly
stunned, and could do nothing but stumble backward, looking from
Keener to Sophie and back again.

Sophie stood in the center of the main hall, equally
stunned. Ian Ramsay—charming Ian Ramsay, had been using all of
them. All this time, he’d been playing with them: Edward, Lady
Auliffe, and her. Whatever she had believed had begun to grow
between her and Ian had no value to him, not when his goal was to
see her married to another man. No wonder he had never mentioned
love. He had no feelings for her, as he obviously had no heart. It
seemed the man had no concept of anything but games and money.

“Ramsay,” Edward hissed, his face purple with
hatred. “I should have known.”

Sophie swallowed. Because she had not relinquished
the buckle, and Constable Keener likely thought she had tried to
dupe him, she would now have to face the full force of the law. She
knew that Edward would provide her no protection. And she would die
before running to that bastard, Ian Ramsay, as she had planned to
do that night. She was alone. Utterly and abysmally alone.

“Sophie Vernet.” Constable Keener stepped toward
her. “In the name of His Majesty King George, I arrest you.”

As if in a trance, Sophie listened to the words she
had dreaded to hear since the night of the murder. The vision of
the gallows, Tyburn Tree, flashed through her mind, because that
was surely where she would end up if Constable Keener had his way.
It couldn’t end like this! Not after all she had been through. And
the thought of being publicly executed while thousands of people
watched and taunted her, spurred her to action. She forgot her
heartbreak. She forgot Ian Ramsay’s betrayal. She put out of her
mind the puzzled outrage in Edward’s face. Instead, she grabbed up
her skirts and dashed out of the main hall.

“Halt!” Constable Keener shouted.

She ignored his command. She ran for the back gate,
retracing her steps of the afternoon and hoping she could run fast
enough to get out of the fortress before the constable caught her.
The path to the back gate was circuitous, and she counted on her
newfound familiarity with the halls of the place to give her an
edge over the constable. Edward, in his drunken state and with an
injured shin, would probably not pursue her for long, or with any
amount of speed. She skittered through the halls, her boots ringing
on the stone floor as she dashed through the dim corridors of
Highclyffe.

Sophie could hear the clatter of footsteps behind
her. How many people were following her?

“Halt, in the name of the king!”

Sophie pressed on. No king’s name would make her
give up. No man would hold her life in his hands again. That night,
pounding through the Scottish fortress of Highclyffe, she made a
vow to herself. Should she escape this final time, should she
survive this latest brush with death, she would forswear all
alliances with men. She would make her own way and depend upon no
one but herself from this day forward.

She veered around a corner, knowing the rear gate
loomed just around the next one, only to find Edward standing
there, talking to John MacEwan. She could no longer hear the
constable pounding down the hallway behind her, but there was no
time to wonder where he was. Panic-stricken, Sophie glanced around
and caught sight of a narrow staircase winding into the gloom of a
corner tower. This was a place where a man with a strong arm and
sword could hold off an army as long as his strength remained. She
tore up the stairs, not sure where they would take her, and ran
upward until she thought her lungs would burst. At the top of the
stairs, she found a heavy door, which she rammed with her shoulder.
It opened on rusty hinges, and she stumbled forward, into the cool
night air.

She was atop the tower, surrounded by the
crenellated roof, with the starry sky above and the black lake
below. The wind of the afternoon had never let up, and it whipped
up the edges of the plaid and blew her hair in her eyes. She
brushed it back and turned in the other direction, looking for an
avenue of escape. A narrow parapet led across the wall of the
fortress to the tower at the opposite corner. Sophie broke into a
run, heading for the parapet, only to stop in her tracks when she
spotted a man loping across the passage to intercept her.