Dear Impostor (8 page)

          “Oh, don’t be a fool,” Psyche shot
back, irritated at him, too. “I’m not a half-wit, Percy.”

          Gabriel spoke at almost the same
time. “I have lived abroad in much more dangerous climes; I suppose I didn’t
think. If your servant has been injured, I certainly regret the fact.” He
sounded concerned, for the first time, and a little of Psyche’s anger faded.

          Percy shook his head as if to
dismiss such insignificant concerns as a lowly footman.

          “You’ve explained away your lack
of proper attire glibly enough.” Percy bristled about, reminding Psyche of
nothing so much as an angry hedgehog, “but I should like to hear you explain
away this!”  

          Gabriel looked around him as if
expecting something to magically appear. He smiled. “I’m afraid I am at a
disadvantage. I don’t know to which this you are referring.”

          Percy
colored and fisted his pudgy hands.

          “This, my lord, if indeed you may
be called by that honorific, refers to the fact that you are a fraud! No one
has ever heard of you. Your title is nonexistent, your name is unknown, you are
a complete mystery.”

          He sounded even more pompous than
usual, but Psyche found herself holding her breath to hear the actor’s
response.

          But Gabriel appeared delighted. “How
lovely.”

          “L-lovely?” Percy stammered.

          “Yes, everyone will appreciate the
novelty, and I shall be all the crack. Soon, all the young bucks will be
pretending not to know one another. We shall all be mystery men.”

          Psyche could not stop the giggle
that escaped her trembling lips. Too late, she clamped her hand over her mouth.
Percy stared at her, aghast. Really, she could not feel more annoyed with
herself than he was. Ruthlessly, she squashed down the glimmer of admiration
for the actor’s audacity.

          “I demand that you leave this
house at once, Sir!” Percy swung back to confront the impostor once more. “Sitting
around in the–in the–without any proper garments at all! I will not have you
compromising a lady of quality whose reputation is unblemished.”

          “Really?” Gabriel’s deep blue eyes
focused on Psyche, and she hoped that she was not blushing. “Not a glimmer of
blemish, not even the tiniest blot? My dear, I fear you must have led a sadly
tedious existence up to now. I’m so glad I came into your life to add that
spark of controversy without which we should all perish of boredom.”

          “I beg your pardon–” Percy
sputtered, but the actor transferred his gaze to her cousin, and Gabriel’s blue
eyes seemed to turn a steely gray.

          “Besides, I rather think that I am
the one who should be concerned about protecting my fiancé, her person and her
reputation, against any danger, imagined or real.” His tone was cool, and Percy
seemed to wilt slightly, his narrow shoulders drooping.

          But Psyche felt a surge of warmth
that took her by surprise. She had been alone for so long. Despite the presence
of her extended family, her life had never been the same since the death of her
parents. Since the accident she had felt unprotected, vulnerable to all of
fate’s twists and turns. She had been forced to face the world on er own, to
fend off Percy’s unwanted advances and her uncle’s mercenary matchmaking, to
look out for herself and her sister. That such a man would be her protector. .
. to have a champion who would be at her side against all foes, take her part
against any–then she shook herself, mentally. This was all an illusion! The man
was an actor, he had no interest in her, no reason to protect either her good
name or her person.

          Yet the feeling had, for an
instant, soothed a hurt inside her which had been sore for too many years. He
must be an excellent actor, indeed, she told herself. But she must not forget
that his talent was for make-believe, and his concern her purse.

          “I–I–” Percy obviously knew that
he had lost command of the situation, even if he were not quite sure how. He
struggled to regain his composure, drawing on his moral indignation to refuel
his righteous ire. “I insist that you take your baggage and get out–”

          “But I have no baggage, that’s the
problem,” the actor interrupted to remind him. “I hardly think even you would
wish to put me out in the street without a stitch or a scrap to cover myself.”

          “Hardly proper, Percy,” Psyche
murmured, her tone mischievous. “And surely that would not reflect well on me.”

          “No, no, but–” Percy blinked, as
if at a loss. But he also, as Psyche knew only too well, always must have the
last word. “I shall demand that the servants return your evening dress and then
you can be on your way! And as for this ridiculous engagement–”

          ”Percy!” Psyche interrupted, her
voice icy. “You will not tell me what to do, or whom to marry.”

          “It must be ended immediately,”
Percy continued as if he had not heard her. He didn’t glance her way. “I shall
speak to my father. Again.”

          “Your father has no power to
forbid the engagement,” Psyche snapped, forgetting the actor for a moment as
she turned to glare at her cousin. “I shall have half of my funds as soon as my
solicitor can act. We shall go to the courts, if necessary!”

          “You wouldn’t,” Percy gaped at
her. “Think of the talk–the scandal–”

          ”Then Uncle Wilfred should not try
to interfere,” Psyche told him coldly. “I will have access to my own money.”

          “But the marriage itself–that
cannot take place without his blessing, and you know he will never give it.” Percy
stared at her, obviously perplexed.

          “One step at a time,” Psyche said,
taking a deep breath to calm herself. Percy would never understand, but that
hardly mattered. If she had more funds to tap, her current position would be
more tolerable, and Circe would have the art lessons her talent deserved. They could
travel again, go to the Continent and escape Percy’s annoying and increasingly
persistent courtship. She would have her life back, and most of all, precious
freedom. When this actor disappeared once more into obscurity, she would remain
happily engaged to her creation, the illusive and nonexistent marquis. She
would not allow her backward-thinking uncle to control her forever.

          “This marriage will never take
place,” Percy repeated, his tone grim. “In the meantime, I shall speak to the
servants about this–this man’s evening clothes.” He stormed out of the room, so
incensed that he apparently had forgotten that he was leaving his cousin
behind, alone in the lion’s den.

          Psyche knew she should leave at
once–this was most improper. As to that, Percy was in the right. But she needed
to speak to the actor without any witnesses. Her missing footman–

          Gabriel was regarding her gravely;
his gaze now harder to read. The roguery that had glinted as he baited the
slower-witted Percy had faded, and some other emotion–one she was afraid to
name–glinted behind the dark blue eyes. “I apologize for my lack of attire,” he
said. “And I would not remain sitting while you stand, except that if I stood
in the present circumstance–”

          ”No, no,” Psyche assured him
hastily, taking a step backward despite herself. Her voice sounded strained
with the fear that this unpredictable man might do exactly that. “Please don’t
get up.”

          The actor bit back a smile. Psyche’s
surge of embarrassment faded as her irritation returned. “As soon as you are
decent, we need to talk.”

          The amusement in his eyes only
deepened. “I shall refrain from stating the obvious and say only that my time–
among other things– are yours for the asking, my lovely Psyche.”

          “You are over-generous, sir. The
only thing I wanted from you was your time. And I only paid for one evening’s
worth.”

          He leaned back comfortably in his
chair. “Consider this an encore, my dear.”

          Psyche’s jaw was clenched so hard that
her teeth ached. “Your presence is no longer wanted. And do not call me dear!”

          “As you wish, lovely Psyche.”

          “Or Psyche. I gave you no leave to
call me that, nor any of your endearments.” Her usual cool composure in shreds,
she gestured wildly, pointing to the door of the suite. “I demand that you
leave. I cannot afford this charade to go on.”

          “I am not charging you by the
hour, darling Psyche.” His deep blue eyes regarded her with thoughtful
interest.

          “Don’t call me that!” She almost
shrieked. “I told you, I cannot afford–”

          How fascinating that such an icy beauty
should burn a man with temper, he thought. If only there were not more at stake
here, if only he could afford the time to woo her as the passion that lurked
beneath her cool facade deserved.

          “Nor can you afford for it to
fail.”

                    He
had spoken slowly, calmly. His control shamed her. Forcing a breath past her
tight throat, she took hold of herself. “No. I cannot fail. My sister and her
future mean more to me than any little–” she looked significantly at Gabriel “–or
large annoyance. But don’t forget who you are, or rather who you are not, Lord
Tarrington.”       

          He shrugged the broad, tanned
shoulders which she had tried not to notice. Where had he lived, for the sun to
have so darkened his skin? She pictured him on tropical beaches or in dense
jungle, then pushed the images away. She had no time for fanciful daydreams,
not now. She must hold on to her resolve, not be distracted by any blackmailing
impostor, no matter how pleasant-looking he might be.

           “Perhaps I do not need your
title, Psyche.” He ignored the widening of her eyes just as he continued to
ignore her commands. A pity she hid her marvelous shape beneath such prim
gowns, he thought as he watched her take a deep breath. “Perhaps I have a lofty
title of my own.”

          Psyche rolled her eyes. “And maybe
Zeus will ride down from the sky on a lightning bolt and zap my uncle and Percy
on their...”

          She looked
pointedly at his lap. “...newspapers.”

          Gabriel just managed not to cross
his legs at the thought. “I am only here to aid you, my dear Psyc...Miss Hill. We
are working together toward a common goal, if you would remember.”

          “Are we?” She had regained her
control, and her voice was cool. “Besides,” she remembered her additional
grievance, “it was very thoughtless of you to send my servant on such an errand,
at a time when few honest men are on the streets. You should have waited till
the morning.”

          “True, but then I would have been
in just such a fix as I find myself.” Gabriel’s all-too-charming smile flashed,
and she felt its force despite all her resolution. She must not waver. He would
not beguile her out of her anger.

          “But now he is missing, and I am
concerned for his safety,” she went on stubbornly. “My mother always taught me
that the poorer classes deserve just as much consideration for their welfare as
those of more affluent means, and I am sure that she is–was right.”

          Was it respect she saw in his
eyes? Most of the Ton would have thought her as mad as her unconventional
parents whenever she voiced such a strange notion.

          “I hope he has been only
temporarily detained,” Gabriel agreed, his tone this time more serious. “I had
best go and check on him myself. I will look a little strange in evening dress,
but that cannot be helped. As soon as the man brings back my clothing–”

          That reminded her again that she
should not be here, alone in his chamber. She would start just the type of
gossip she was so eager to avoid, and what on earth would Aunt Sophie say?

 “I will tell them to send up your clothing
at once.”

          He nodded, his smile flashing once
more. “And the next time I greet you naked in my bedchamber, I promise–”

          ”There will be no next time!” she
interrupted sternly, afraid to hear the rest of his statement. The man seemed
determined to shake her usual calm reserve. But before she left his room, she
needed to inform him of something.

          “I decided last night after you so
rudely invited yourself to stay here, that it was only reasonable to deduct
room and board from your fee. I’m sure you would agree.” With a decided nod,
she turned before he could do more than give a husky chuckle. Leaving the room
in haste, Psyche released some of her irritation by slamming the door behind
her.

          When she turned, she stopped
abruptly. Simpson stood in the hallway, her expression distressed.

          Now what? “Yes?” Psyche demanded,
then took a deep breath and modulated her tone. She would not be so petty as to
take out her anger on her servants. “What is it, Simpson?”

          “It’s Wilson, Miss,” her maid
answered. “I think you’d better come.”