An Honorable Deception (The Imposters #3)

Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

“Absolutely not. I won’t hear of it. I would sooner take her off to the Continent somewhere and put her in a nunnery for protection than let you put her even for a moment in the crosshairs of these madmen.”

Alethia blinked at her mother, not entirely convinced she’d heard her correctly. Had she truly threatened her with a nunnery ? “Mama. Calm down, please.” They were seated around the Fairfaxes’ dining room table, a magnificent dinner behind them, the pudding being placed before each plate. Alethia had thought everyone was a bit muted in their conversation tonight ... but she hadn’t known why until Marigold had cleared her throat toward the end of the meal.

“Mr. A reports that he has a plan in place to rescue Samira, bring the Empire House crashing down, and stop Lord Babcock once and for all. There is only one catch—you would have to act as bait , Lady Alethia.”

Mama set her spoon down with a clink, outrage visible in every line of her face. “I won’t be told to calm down. Nor will I sit by and allow you to be hurt again.”

“I’m not going to be hurt.” She was careful to keep her eyes on her mother and no one else as she said, “I trust the Imposters. Mr. A would not suggest this plan if it were not the best way forward, and if he did not have safeguards in place.”

Her mother’s lips thinned. “He may be the best investigator in London. But he is ultimately a hireling, dearest. He oughtn’t to be trusted to have your best interest at heart. Not like I do.”

A “hireling” had been the only one she could trust. The reminder of that was on the tip of her tongue, but seeing the ache in her mother’s eyes, she bit it back.

Mama knew that she’d failed her. She knew, even if neither of them had ever put words to it, that Alethia loved Samira more because Samira had been the one to act as a true mother should. But as Fairfax had reminded her when he brought Mama here, she did love her. Imperfectly, from behind her biases and blinders. But when wasn’t that true? And Alethia loved her too. Imperfectly, from behind her own biases and blinders.

She wanted to love her more . She didn’t want to hurt her.

She didn’t want to let her unwittingly insult their hosts either, but Lord Fairfax smirked at the bit about hirelings.

“I don’t know, Lady Barremore,” he chimed in. “It seems to me that Mr. A would be quite keen to keep her alive. He’ll be wanting the other half of his fee, won’t he?”

Mama didn’t seem to find the joke amusing. “My daughter’s life is worth more than forty-five pounds, my lord.”

“Of course it is.” Fairfax sobered, and the sincerity that filled his expression would surely accomplish what the jest hadn’t. “And as most of us sitting around this table no longer have a mother to watch out for us, I can assure you that we very much appreciate your stance—and envy your daughter your presence in her life.”

Her mother relaxed—but she didn’t relent. “Let us hope this Mr. A understands as well when he hears he must develop another plan.”

Fairfax smiled gently. Graciously. “I daresay a man in his line of work has learned to be both flexible and accommodating.” He either meant it, or she had no skill at detecting an act.

She took a spoonful of crème br?lée and raised it to her lips. She almost wished she didn’t have such a skill, that she’d had no cause to learn to tell when a man spoke kindness and meant deception. But she did.

The custard was silk on her tongue, but she could scarcely taste it.

Mama didn’t even pick up her spoon. She offered a taut smile and pushed back from the table. “I appreciate your support in this matter, Lord Fairfax. And trust that my decision will be respected. Now if you’ll please excuse me.” She rested a hand on Alethia’s shoulder—it trembled, and Alethia suddenly realized that the pinched look on her face now, the one she so often wore during what sounded like casual conversations, was to hold back tears. “I’ve a bit of a headache. I think I had better lie down—but do come in to say good night, dearest. Will you?”

Alethia looked up into her glassy blue eyes. Felt the tremble in her fingers. And gave her a smile she hoped was reassuring. Because though she intended to ignore her mother’s insistence, Fairfax was right. It was a respectable stance. It was the right stance for a mother to take. “Yes, Mama. I hope you feel better.”

She waited until she heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs before she set her own spoon down. “I’ll do whatever needs done.”

She expected glances of relief. A nod. A few furtive glances up toward where her mother would be, regret mixed with determination.

Instead, her friends didn’t even need to exchange looks, it seemed. Fairfax simply said, “No. Your mother’s wishes will be respected.”

“But—”

“It is a parent’s prerogative to keep her child as safe as she can,” Marigold said. She held her husband’s gaze, a world of meaning flying between them in a heartbeat. “If it were our child volunteering to do something so potentially dangerous, we would object too.”

“And make certain she respected the foot we put most decisively down.” Sir Merritt nodded, then moved his gaze to her. “We knew this was a likely obstacle.”

They looked calm, every one of them. Contemplative. Unperturbed by that obstacle. Perhaps that was a good sign. “There is another plan, then?”

“Not yet. But the Imposters are a clever bunch. They’ll come up with something.” Fairfax, she only then realized, didn’t even have a pudding before him, nor did his sister. And he gave only a cursory glance at the state of everyone else’s before he stood. “Library, as you can.” He met her gaze. “You too, my lady, if you will. Your advisement will be most welcome, even if you must defer from active participation in the show.”

As if crème br?lée held any allure now? She stood quickly, as did everyone else. Fairfax had already charged from the room, his mind occupied with things other than social niceties, and Lavinia had darted out after him. Most evenings there was a bit of a joking race between him and Lord Xavier to see who would reach Alethia’s side and offer her a supportive arm first, but Xavier moved no less quickly now, even without the contest.

She smiled up at him and took his arm. He had been all conscientious attention since he’d arrived. It must be in large part the little competition he and Fairfax had fallen good-naturedly into—how many times had Mama told her that men enjoyed a chase, and all the better if there were other men they could best in it? Even so, their dueling smiles had soothed a few ragged edges, even if Fairfax sent far more glances to Lavinia than he ever did to her. A fact her new friend didn’t even seem to notice, though she snuck her own fair share at him .

There were good men in the world. Men who looked at her with affection and respect. Men who hadn’t sneered and turned away when they realized that someone else had treated her in a way no man should. Men who didn’t think less of her because he had.

Some part had always thought that if others knew the truth, if ever she breathed the words my uncle repeatedly tried to attack me as a child aloud, then the assumption would be that she had deserved the attack. It wasn’t logical—she knew that. Samira had whispered over and again that it wasn’t her fault, wasn’t her sin, wasn’t her blame to bear. She knew that God in His goodness loved her and had promised to make whole anything he had robbed her of.

But the fear had been lingering ever since, sleeping in her veins, whispering doubts in her ear every time a gentleman had smiled at her during the Season. If he knew how worthless you are, he would walk away. If he’d seen you huddling in that wardrobe, he’d turn in disgust. If ever you tried to tell him the truth, he’d run off in horror.

And even worse, He could be like him. He could deceive you, and you’d never know it. Not until he hurt your child . Seeing the way her uncle had glared at her more and more as the Season wore on had only made it worse. A new fear to add to the old ones. He’ll never let you go. Never let you marry. He’ll be too afraid that you’ll tell his secret. As long as you’re under the Barremore roof, he knows he can control you . . . but if you leave?

That was why he’d taken Samira. To prove to her that she would never be beyond his power, never be beyond the reach of his arm. As long as Samira lived, he could control them.

And he was right—and wrong too. Because others now knew the secret. And those others were determined to help her.

Zelda had been right. He’d win when she held her tongue—but when she dared to speak up ... maybe he wouldn’t. For the first time, it was possible that he’d lose .

She made no objection when Xavier pulled her arm more snuggly through his and walked close beside her down the corridor, letting the others outpace them. Once the Whartons and the Livingstones had followed Fairfax and Lavinia into the library, he leaned even closer.

“Before I publicly blow their cover and get myself exiled ... you have put it together, correct? Who they are?” He nodded toward the open door, his words spoken in a hush.

Not exactly the sweet nothings she’d rather hoped he might say as he held them back, but there were more pressing concerns than romance, she supposed. “The Imposters, you mean?” Lips turning into a smile, she nodded. “I thought I’d let them keep up the charade. I do realize that anonymity is their byword in most cases.”

“That has always been my tack as well, but I daresay the coming conversation will be much simpler if they know they can dispense with the ‘Mr. A and his colleagues say...’ nonsense.”

He had an excellent point. If they kept up their current pattern, claiming that they would send their ideas to the investigator and await his thoughts on the matter, it would mean more delay. Far better to admit that they were the ones making the decisions. “Agreed.”

“Good.” The smile he sent her felt like more than an agreement to his own plan, more than a minor conspiracy to unveil England’s most elite investigators. It felt like a promise of another conversation to come.

They entered the room to find that someone had tacked a series of blueprints to the walls where maps usually resided, along with diagrams and sketches whose purpose she couldn’t even begin to guess.

“If I may make a motion before we begin,” Xavier said the moment they’d cleared the threshold, her arm still woven through his. He glanced down at her. “She’s a clever girl, she’s already sorted it out. You may as well speak freely and save yourselves time and energy.”

Marigold sighed in clear relief, nodding. Lavinia shot Alethia a grin.

Fairfax scowled and folded his arms over his chest. “Why even have such clever disguises if you go ripping off our masks, X?” Amusement shone through the cracks in his scowl. “Merritt, he’s taking the fun out of things.”

Sir Merritt snorted a laugh. “You’re the one who deputized him.”

“You’re the one who brought him here to begin with last year.”

“You’re the one who told him he was welcome at the Tower anytime.”

Good men. Such wonderful, good men. She let a chuckling Xavier lead her to a leather sofa, not at all sorry when he settled beside her.

Lavinia picked something up off one of the tables and brought it to her.

A paper. Innocuous, in and of itself. But the moment she glimpsed the script, her every muscle went taut, and her skin crawled in revulsion. Her friend might as well have handed her a spider. “What is this?”

Lavinia sat on the edge of the nearest chair. “The trip to London—we staged a bit of a deception. I posed as you and made certain the gossips saw you were back in Town, supposedly staying with Xavier’s cousin Annabeth at the Hastingses’ home. We thought to draw out your uncle. And it worked.”

That was what yesterday’s trip had been? Alethia had given up asking why anyone was coming or going—it had seemed more gracious to grant them their secrecy and simply welcome them back again with unquestioning smiles. But she never would have told Lavinia to borrow whatever she wanted if she’d realized that’s what she was about. “Vinia, how could you do something so dangerous? Am I not being kept here because we feared the moment I showed my face in London again, the men who shot me would return to finish the job?”

“And finally someone agrees with me.” Fairfax had moved to one of the desks and was sorting through a formidable stack of papers.

Lavinia merely motioned toward the note clutched in Alethia’s hands. “We would value your thoughts on that.”

She didn’t want to read it. Didn’t want to look at anything written by her uncle—and when in her first glance she saw my little lotus bloom leap off the page, she feared she might be sick.

Lord Xavier slid a little closer. Covered her hand with his own around the paper. She was shaking. She hadn’t even realized it, realized that was why the words had gone blurry, until he steadied her.

“You are not alone,” Xavier said softly. “He will not hurt you.”

But Samira was alone, and she was hurt. Again. She was the one he’d always called his lotus. Alethia had to do whatever she could to help her. She nodded, swallowed, and read the full note.

Her stomach churned, and she wished she hadn’t eaten the pudding. Or the meat. Or the bread.

“It seems pretty clear what his meaning is,” Marigold said from her place. “He means to draw you out of hiding by offering to trade Samira. We have to assume he means to kill you once he succeeds. That he was referencing your injuries to remind you of what he can do.”

“No.” She said the word softly, but it brought immediate stillness to the room.

Fairfax was the first to move, turning slowly to face her fully. “No?”

She wet her lips, shook her head. It had never made sense to her, that her uncle would conspire with Rheams to shoot her, and not just because he’d been at the house party with her parents when it happened. She hadn’t until now been able to put her finger on why, so she’d never questioned their assumption that the others were working with her uncle’s knowledge and blessing.

But Uncle Reuben would never, never let another man rob him of the power he held over her. He would never let anyone else hurt her—as if that right was reserved to him alone. “He wouldn’t have sent men to kill me. He wouldn’t think he had to, for one thing. He would know very well that he could guarantee my silence simply by threatening to hurt Samira. I think that’s why he took her—because the Season made him start thinking about what may happen once I leave home, whether I would tell a future husband about what he’d been like. But I think it’s because Mrs. Rheams witnessed it and confronted her husband that things took the turn they did.”

Fairfax looked at Merritt, held his gaze a long moment, then transferred it to Xavier. “They could have been so desperate to kill her before ‘his lordship’ returned because they didn’t want him to stop them, or even to associate it with them. Not to finish the job before he held them responsible for its failing.”

Merritt paced to the unlit hearth, pivoted. “I don’t fancy giving him that much credit.”

“It isn’t credit.” Alethia had to squeeze her eyes shut. Even knowing no one here would judge her, she still couldn’t bear to see their faces. Didn’t want to see the effects as she shifted their view of the world a little more. “He ... it is about possession to him. Control. Power. He always claimed that ... that we were his . Both of us. She was his little lotus—I was little darling.”

Even now, the endearment made her shudder, no matter whose lips it fell from. Her mother had stopped using it ages ago, only using dear or a variation. She must have picked up on that.

“If he’d known someone else had attacked me,” she said slowly, working it out as she went, “he wouldn’t have rested until he’d found me and learned who’d done it. He’d have tracked Mama here instead of assuming she’d gone flitting off for a holiday.”

She opened her eyes and wished she hadn’t. Her gaze tangled immediately with Lavinia’s, whose face was a mask of pain and confusion. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “It seems he only wants you hurt—”

“By no one but him. It isn’t ... it isn’t about the outcome, the punishment. It’s about the control.” Alethia shook her head and then turned it away, granting herself that respite once more. “He would never relinquish that, not willingly. That’s why Samira knew he’d move her the moment he realized they’d let someone else into the room. These other men ... perhaps they know that about him. But I daresay they don’t have the same cause to fear him that we have had.”

Fairfax tapped a finger to a wooden surface rhythmically. Softly. Contemplatively. “In the Empire House—Dunne certainly didn’t sound as though he catered to him. You’re right about that. He seemed to think he could ‘handle’ him. He knew his likely reactions but dismissed them.” He muttered something in Romani. “Lionfeathers. We’ve miscalculated. I think I assumed that he was the ringleader. That he gave the orders.”

Alethia handed the letter to Xavier, grateful when he took it so that she couldn’t see the familiar script anymore. “So you see, I don’t think there’s quite the danger you presume—not with him, anyway. He won’t be wanting a physical trade, he’ll be wanting my promise of silence. It’s Rheams who likely still wants me silenced forever, if he thinks his wife told me everything she learned. If he thinks I realize he had something to do with her murder.”

They exchanged more glances, and Lavinia turned to another pile of papers, pulling one out from the middle of the stack. “Barclay’s crew were in the Rheamses’ home last week, poking about. They copied out Mrs. Rheams’s calendar. As you suspected, she hadn’t changed the time of your meeting. If her husband only looked at that, he’d have thought she’d already met you by the time the thugs found her. Already told you what she knew about Samira and the Empire House.”

Alethia’s nostrils flared. “Had my uncle been in Town and part of the conversation, he would have assured them that he could force my silence as he always had—by threatening Samira and anyone else I loved. But he wasn’t there. So they simply acted to protect their own secrets.”

“It may be a bit worse than that,” Fairfax said. “If it was his taking of Samira that Mrs. Rheams saw, and which put her on the scent of the Empire House, then Rheams and company could well blame him for everything—not unduly. They certainly don’t mean to let you tell the tale to anyone else.”

“Which means your mother is very right to insist you stay here,” Marigold said.

“This could be useful, though. We may be able to pit them against one another, bring the house of cards down from within, so to speak. If Babcock—and Barremore, I daresay—discover that there was an attempt on the lady’s life...” Sir Merritt leaned against the mantel, thoughts buzzing through his head.

“But you need me there. Whatever time and place we set, if I do not show up—”

“You will.” Lavinia’s words rang through the room, even and sure. Alethia’s gaze flew back to her.

She ought to have known Lavinia would be her ally. She, more than anyone else, knew what it was to have your own family hold the blame for violence.

Fairfax spun to face her. “She can’t. She shows her face—”

“She won’t.” Lavinia lifted her brows, looked to Xavier rather pointedly, and then held out her arms. “I’ve already done it once. I’ll do it again. He can see me from behind, bring Samira into our trap. By the time he realizes I’m not her, it will be too late.”

“No.” Fairfax looked as though he’d like to storm to Lavinia’s side, but he held himself in check. “It may work for that portion, yes, but Babcock won’t be the only dangerous man attending our little play. If the others think you’re her—”

“We’ll search everyone before they come in.” Lavinia pushed to her feet. “Make certain they have no weapons. We can mitigate the risks, but some are inevitable. And you forget a key point—that it won’t be her face revealed, it’ll be mine .”

Fairfax shook his head. “We’ll use a mannequin. Perhaps a voice recording. We still have the old wax cylinder recorder, don’t we, Marigold?”

“When has a Fairfax ever got rid of anything that brought a moment’s diversion?”

He flashed his sister a grin.

Lavinia huffed. “The voice recording will be useful, don’t get me wrong. But a mannequin will not suffice. Stop being stubborn, Yates.”

“You’re accusing me of being stubborn? You could be killed!”

“What would it—” She cut herself off with another sharp breath, but Alethia could hear her unspoken words. What would it matter if I was?

Did the others hear it? The silence made her think that perhaps they did. She had no doubt that they would have their ways of answering the words she hadn’t said, words that would be born from years of friendship and love.

But she also knew that sometimes the ones who knew you best were the last people you believed.

Before anyone else could move or speak, Alethia stood, took that single step to Lavinia’s side, and reached for her hand. Gave her the words still echoing in her own heart, quietly enough that the others likely wouldn’t even hear. “Whoever made you think you’re not worth it—they’re wrong. So very wrong. And you let them win when you keep thinking those thoughts. You are precious, Lavinia. And you are needed. By all of us. You must not take any unnecessary risks. Your life matters.”

Lavinia’s fingers tightened around hers. For a pulse, she made no response. Then her chin came up, emotion gleaming in her eyes. “I won’t be reckless. But I will do everything in my power to save the women trapped in that place and then provide them with a future.” Her gaze moved back to Fairfax, whose jaw was clenched so tight he looked to be in danger of cracking his teeth. “It will work even better than what we already had planned. Think about it—they can think I’m her, at least at first. Lure Babcock into revealing himself. And then when I reveal my self—not as Alethia, the girl they’d already tried to silence, but as the daughter of Lord Hemming, Lords’s liaison to military intelligence and on a dozen committees besides...”

“Leopard stripes.” Marigold pinched her nose. “She’s right, Yates. It’ll be brilliant. They’ll think we have the weight of the Crown behind us. Rheams will go running scared, likely tripping up and confessing the murder of his wife to Vernon or Dunne in conversation. If we’re simply there to witness it, or better still, make certain a trusted member of Scotland Yard hears it...”

All the Imposters’ eyes shifted to Yates while he considered it. Alethia thought for certain he would continue to argue. But after a moment, his face relaxed and he nodded. “All right. Let’s make the necessary adjustments to the plan and get it dispatched as soon as we can to Barclay. He’s going to love us adding yet another wrinkle, I daresay.”

Apparently that was a signal that Alethia didn’t entirely follow, because three different conversations sprang to life among them—costuming, building design, best timing—as they bustled from the library, Lavinia giving her fingers one more squeeze and mouthing a silent thank-you.

Alethia held her spot. They’d be going, she assumed, to the study or little office Gemma had set up, where she’d glimpsed mounds of paperwork when she dared to walk by. She wasn’t altogether certain she’d be welcome there, even if they had dropped the pretense. She certainly wasn’t so deeply involved in their planning as to be anything but an annoyance.

She smiled a bit at their retreating forms. “They’re a force of nature, aren’t they? I can scarcely keep up.”

Xavier stood, but he didn’t follow their friends out the door. He reached for her hand, slowly and gently, and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. His gaze locked on her face through every second. “Do you want to?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking, even as he darted his eyes toward the door in illustration. She frowned. “To keep up?”

“With him.” The breath he drew looked careful. His gaze so softly probing that it was more invitation than question. “Fairfax is the finest of men. He is willing to move heaven and earth for the sake of justice and righteousness. If you favor him ... I’ll step aside. I do not want you to feel for even a moment as if I’m forcing my attentions upon you.”

This sweet man. She tightened her grip on his fingers. “And if I don’t want that?”

A fire lit in his eyes—not the kind that threatened to burn and consume and bring destruction. The kind that promised to provide warmth and safety without limit. “Then I would say that I would never ask you to share more with me than you want to about what you have suffered—but assure you that I will always listen to anything you need to say. I would promise that though I can’t offer you a title, I can take you wherever you want to go, wherever you’ll feel most safe. I would make certain you understand that though I know I have a bit of a reputation, it isn’t because I ever once treated a woman with anything less than respect. It was only because I hadn’t settled down. I couldn’t.”

Her mouth felt dry, her palms damp. “Why not?”

A small, intimate smile touched his lips. “Because I hadn’t yet met you.”

“Xavier.” She should have had some more eloquent response, something to put words to the swelling in her chest. But his name was all she could manage, and he didn’t seem to mind the lack.

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I know this timing is far from perfect, and I have no desire to rush you. I’ve waited a decade already to find you, I am content to savor each moment now that I have. I only want to make sure I’m welcome.”

The warmth spread from her palm to her veins and pumped its way straight to her heart. “You are very welcome,” she managed to say, though the words were little more than a murmur. “Always welcome.”

He smiled and pressed her hand to his heart, covering it with his own. She didn’t know if it was his pulse she felt hammering through his dinner jacket or her own.

She didn’t much care. She shifted closer, tilting her head back as she did so she could look up at him still. See him smiling down at her.

That fire burned steady and bright in his eyes, and he leaned down a bit. Then stopped and searched her gaze. “May I?”

She curled the fingers of her left hand into the fabric of his jacket, lifted the other to trace the handsome contours of his cheek, and loved that he had asked. “Please.”