Chapter One
Dorchester, two weeks later
Camilla Hardy stepped down from the stagecoach, breathing a heavy sigh. The trip had been too long and jostled her around so much that the coiled hair at the base of her neck fell in a disarray of curls. The constant sway of the coach made her feel like she had been on a ship at times, especially when she closed her eyes.
“Lady Hardy? Are ye all right?” Timothy trudged up behind her, pulling her trunk.
“Yes. I will be fine.” She surveyed the busy street, pushing strands of hair out of her eyes. “So long as we can find lodging before I am jostled again.”
Her servant, a man who was almost as old as her father, straightened and walked in front of her. “Although we’ve few shillin’s left, I’ll find a conveyance. Ye stay right ’ere with the trunk. It shouldn’t take much time to locate transportation to yer brother-in-law’s.”
Sweeping the unruly mass of hair over her shoulder, she sat on the trunk and clutched her satchel. She must find lodgings soon. Funds were low, which placed a greater urgency on her plans.
Especially now.
Tears stung her eyes as she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the letter she had received from Dr. Smythe.
Lady Hardy, I regret to inform you that your sister, Katherine Worthington, died after you left the hospital. She found a knife and cut herself. When I found her, she’d lost so much blood, it was too late to save her. Accept my apologies and my deepest sympathy. I will send you the bill, since your sister didn’t have the funds to cover it. Respectfully, Dr. Smythe.
Camilla swiped the tears from her eyes and placed the letter back in her cloak. There hadn’t been time—or money—for a proper burial. When Camilla arrived at the hospital, the physician had already placed Katherine in the box and lowered her into the ground. All Camilla could do was utter a prayer and lay a red rose on top of the long wooden box. Not long after that, hatred had fueled her, and she couldn’t wait to confront her brother-in-law.
When she imagined meeting Malcolm Worthington for the first time, her heart pounded fiercely, and fear caused her palms to moisten. She hadn’t yet written to him to inform him of his wife’s demise or about the added expenses of the hospital and burial. But that wasn’t foremost on her mind any longer.
Staying in Dorchester, Camilla had planned to watch Mr. Worthington closely and gather as much information as she could in dealing with his traitorous actions toward his business partners. What words would convince him to treat her like family? She must figure out what she would say to him to get close enough to spy on him. If he were the demon Kat had accused him of being, he wasn’t going to welcome Camilla into his home with open arms.
Off to the side, a street urchin standing near the apple cart drew her attention. The young lad’s gaze darted around the street suspiciously. Dirt streaked his face and tattered clothes, and his hair appeared as if he hadn’t combed it—or even washed it—for weeks. When the owner of the cart turned his back on the boy, the lad’s hand snaked out, grabbing an apple.
That little thief!She stood as he ran past. Reaching, she tried to grab the imp, but only succeeded in stumbling forward. The owner of the cart swung around and faced her, and his eyes widened the longer he stared.
“Oh, it’s you,” he accused, pointing his finger.
Panic choked her throat. “No! I didn’t take it. It was that little boy.”
The man glanced up the street and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Constable, over here.”
She shook her head, but the cart owner wouldn’t listen. He continued calling for help, pushing aside patrons as he hurried toward her. She couldn’t allow them to arrest her.
I must get out of here.Energy pumped into her legs, and she ran as fast as she could. Ahead of her stood a building with hedges planted in the back. If she could get there and hide…
She turned the corner and paused, resting against the wooden frame of the building. Deep breaths heaved from her chest, which burned from lack of air. Cautiously, she peeked to see if anyone had noticed her. They were still running after her, calling for her to stop.
Clutching her cumbersome skirt, she scurried toward the end of the building and ducked behind the far corner. Another street opened before her, and spectators gawked at the commotion she created. She continued until another alleyway loomed ahead.
As she glanced over her shoulder, she breathed a heavy sigh that the men following were farther behind. But within seconds, more had joined the chase.
She turned another corner and ran into a solid form. A scream tore from her throat as she grasped his arms to keep from falling. Two strong arms circled her waist. She looked up into the face of a soldier wearing a red coat.
“My, my.” He grinned, tightening his arms around her. “What lovely package do I have here?”
Instead of being relieved to see a soldier, she worried he would think she stole the apple just as the others did. “Please, sir, release me at once.” She squirmed, but to no avail.
“’Tis all right, my dear. I shall protect you.” He winked. “Have I not always been your champion?”
His words confused her, but she didn’t have time for his explanation. “Please, if you would be so kind. I must get away.” The shouts of pursuing men grew louder. “You do not understand. I cannot be caught. I fear they will put me in jail for a crime I did not commit.”
The soldier raised a dark eyebrow. “What stories are you telling now, Mrs. Worthington?”
She gasped and stared at the man holding her. Mrs. Worthington? He thought she was her sister? But of course he would. She and Kat were identical twins. And nobody knew Kat had died.
As she opened her mouth to deny his comment, heavy footsteps rounded the corner. Panic gripped her, and she couldn’t breathe. They had come to take her away.
When she dared to peek over her shoulder, it surprised her to see the men’s expressions showed no anger. Instead of scowls aimed at her, their brows were creased, mouths pursed tightly, as they glared at the soldier. Confusion filled her and she slowly shook her head, trying to understand what was happening.
“Release her at once, sir,” the apple cart’s owner said to the soldier.
Surprised, she blinked, switching her attention back and forth between the soldier and the other man. Why did they dare talk to this officer so disrespectfully?
A chuckle rumbled through the soldier’s chest, but he didn’t let her go.
The thundering hooves of a horse bore down upon them. Camilla switched her attention to the man on the steed. The small crowd parted, and the man atop the animal dismounted. The sight of the rider left her speechless and a bit weak in the knees.
His rugged appearance shocked her, and his strength was evident in his muscled arms and legs. Rather than the fancy clothes of an English nobleman, the beige shirt and brown leather vest of a farmer’s attire stretched taut across his wide chest, and the dark brown material of his trousers molded to his legs and fit snugly into his dark brown knee-boots. But this man was no farmer. That much was apparent by the way he carried himself as he strode toward her, his step too confident, too graceful.
When he neared and she gazed upon his face, her breath caught in her throat. The sun had turned his skin a light brown, and the sureness of his jaw bespoke authority. Chestnut hair tousled by the wind framed his head, and she had a sudden urge to swipe the unruly locks off his forehead.
He was quite handsome, if she dared admit, and he literally made her lungs stop working. Never had that happened to her from just admiring a man. Looking into his fiery hazel eyes, she swallowed hard.
He stopped mere inches away, towering over both Camilla and the soldier like a dark cloud of doom. She leaned back to take in his height.
The handsome man met the soldier’s stare. “Sir, will you kindly remove your hands from my wife?”
Her jaw dropped. Wife?
“Correct me, Mr. Worthington, but was your wife not running from you?” The soldier shook his head. “A few hours ago, I had heard that you reported your wife missing. Now here she is caught running. There must be a reason for that.”
She sucked in her breath. Mr. Worthington? This handsome and very powerful man was her sister’s husband.
The pulse in her temple grew stronger. She couldn’t speak, and she couldn’t think. Telling him about Kat’s death was crucial, yet she didn’t want to do that in front of all of these spectators.
If only her mind would cooperate with her tongue and voice, perhaps she wouldn’t feel like a trapped animal. But more importantly, why did she find her brother-in-law dangerously attractive?
When the man in question settled his eyes on her, his expression softened, and a smile touched his mouth. “Yes, Mrs. Worthington. Please inform the captain and all these good people why you were running from me.”
Silence stretched through the crowd as all eyes were aimed toward Camilla. Even the horses seemed remarkably quiet. Panic grew inside her chest like rising dough, suffocating her slowly. They all expected an explanation—one she couldn’t give.
“My dear.” Mr. Worthington took a step closer. “Will you please clarify why you were running from me?”
She needed to set the matter straight. Now. Although she assumed Mr. Worthington’s change of attitude was all for show, her heart leapt at the tenderness he displayed. That could be the only reason her mind had gone into a momentary dither.
She opened her mouth to explain about Kat’s death, but a thought struck her. She could portray her sister.
Obviously, these people didn’t know she was Kat’s twin. This mistake in identity might make the difference in pilfering the money she needed from Mr. Worthington and finding him guilty of the illegal actions against his business partners. After all, pretending to be his wife would be easier, since she would have free rein of the house—and more freedom to follow him or eavesdrop.
Yet what Kat had said about her husband caused a wave of nausea to roll through Camilla’s middle. It would be as if she were married to Lord Hardy all over again.
The unspoken command to play along with Mr. Worthington loomed in the depths of his eyes. A warning buzzed through her head, commanding her to stop this insane idea of switching roles, but no other choice came to her. It had to be done.
Her tongue felt enlarged, and her mind had turned to mush. “I—I was not running from you. I thought the cart owner was after me.” She switched her attention to the merchant. “A street urchin stole an apple, and I thought you were after me because of it.”
She glanced at the soldier then pushed away from him. “Thank you, kind sir, for breaking my fall, but I no longer need your assistance.”
The soldier shook his head. “But why did your husband feel the need to report you as a missing wife this morning?”
She gulped, feeling like her throat had dried considerably within seconds. Think, Camilla… “I had been to Preston to visit my ill sister.” She switched her gaze to Mr. Worthington. “Do you not recall my telling you?”
Worthington released a light laugh. “I do now.” He aimed his attention toward the soldier. “I had a temporary loss of memory, but all is well now.” Mr. Worthington’s gaze softened as he held out his elbow. “Are you ready to return home, my dear?”
Could she be seeing right? He was acting like a gentleman instead of the monster her sister had described.
“Yes.” She placed a shaky hand in the crook of his well-muscled arm, and he led her toward his horse. Another man followed and mounted a horse tethered nearby.
“Mr. Worthington.” One of the townsmen in the group stepped forward. “Do you still want those chairs delivered to your residence on the morrow?”
“That will be fine, Mr. Perkins.”
“Sir.” Another man doffed his hat. “My Mary wanted me to ask the next time I saw you when you’d be needing more eggs?”
“I’ll have my cook speak with her.”
“As you wish, Mr. Worthington.” The man nodded to Camilla. “A good day to you, Mrs. Worthington.”
She smiled. “And a good day to you.” Odd, but the townsfolk seemed to respect Kat’s husband.
Without meeting her eyes, Mr. Worthington placed his large hands around her waist and lifted her onto his horse. Strange sensations flitted in her stomach and spread through her body until he released her. He mounted behind her, draping her legs over one of his. The intimate position had her shivering in a mixture of fear and awareness. Though this was the horrid man her sister had warned her about, a few moments ago she detected a softer side. His touch wasn’t as rough as she expected, either.
She sneaked a glance over her shoulder to peer into his eyes. These were not the same pair she had seen a minute ago. Instead, they had turned incredibly cold. Had the monster she’d been warned about returned?
“Where have you been?” he said in a tone low enough that only she could hear. “I have been out of my mind with worry thinking you had been kidnapped… or worse.”
Finally, Camilla was able to glimpse the atrocious man Kat had married. Apparently, he was only an angel of mercy in front of his acquaintances. The harshness in his voice caused Camilla’s limbs to shake. What was he capable of doing in a fit of anger?
Before she had time to speak, his large arm tightened, holding her against him in a viselike grip. He wouldn’t abuse her right out in the open, would he?
“You can explain after we get home.” The sharp tone in his voice made her cringe. “I don’t want to air our disagreement in public.”
He reined his horse, turning in the opposite direction of her trunk—and poor Timothy, who probably thought she had been kidnapped or arrested.
“Wait.” She touched Mr. Worthington’s hand. “We have to go back and retrieve my trunk.”
“Your trunk?”
“Yes. It is at the mercantile.”
He growled but maneuvered the animal around. A man who’d been with Mr. Worthington earlier followed at a distance as they rode the few minutes in silence. Mr. Worthington’s stiffness against her back conveyed his anger.
Ahead of them, Timothy stood by a wagon, loading her trunk. His skittish gaze roamed the street. The lines around his mouth gave evidence of his concern.
“Right there.” She pointed in her servant’s direction.
“Picking them older now?” Worthington sneered.
She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see his curt expression. “Pardon me?”
“The man. Who is he?”
“My servant.”
He arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “Well, nonetheless, he can ride with Broderick.”
When they neared, Timothy lifted his gaze to hers, and his mouth hung open. His expression darkened as he switched his focus from her to Worthington. She tried communicating with her eyes to follow her lead.
Although under duress, she smiled. “Timothy, I have found Mr. Worthington, my husband I told you about. Can you bring the wagon and follow us home?”
Timothy’s skeptical gaze moved from her to Malcolm. The servant’s mouth opened and shut a few times, as if he wanted to speak but didn’t have the words. Camilla’s heart hammered against her ribs. Hopefully, Timothy wouldn’t ask questions. She couldn’t have her plan ruined so soon. She focused her pleading eyes upon her servant.
What seemed an eternity passed before he finally nodded. “As ye wish, madame.”
The man named Broderick dismounted and tied his horse to the wagon. He helped Timothy with her trunk before climbing onto the seat with her servant.
Mr. Worthington urged the horse forward, and they traveled through the middle of town. People greeted him, and he answered in a kind, tender voice, but all were hesitant before addressing her, she noticed.
The busy section of town disappeared, and Mr. Worthington’s warm breath was released on her neck in a heavy sigh. She gazed at his profile as he glanced over his shoulder at the fading town. The slight breeze made his intriguing scent drift to her nose—a mixture of cedar and leather. It roused her senses, and for some odd reason, she was eager to know more about him. Would pretending to be his wife bring back horrid memories of her marriage to Lord Hardy? So far, she’d caught glimpses of a totally different man underneath his hard mask of indifference.
Camilla shook away those thoughts. She couldn’t think this way about her brother-in-law, even if her sister was dead and buried.
He turned away from the town and looked at her. His hardened expression made the lines across his forehead run together.
Camilla gulped. He was going to realize she wasn’t Kat. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for his anger.
“Thank you for not making a spectacle back there.” His voice was harsh, yet sincere.
She nodded, holding in the sigh of relief threatening to spill forward. Why had he said such a thing? After all, she’d been the one looking foolish not too long ago, not him.
“I am truly sorry for leaving. I hope I did not worry you.” She spoke in soft tones, wishing to calm his anger.
His brows drew together. “You are sorry?”
Trembling, she took a deep breath. The time had come to play the bold woman she’d never been. “Yes. Before I left, I wrote you a missive, informing you of my plans. Do you really not remember, or were you just saying what you had to back there so as not to cause a scene?”
“Trust me, there was no such note.”
She swallowed, moistening her parched throat. “My sister summoned me. She was deathly ill, and I needed to leave quickly.”
His gaze snapped from her to the road. “We shall talk about this when we reach home.”
“Why?” She glanced at the others riding well behind them. “They cannot hear.”
“Because if we wait, I shall have time to cool my temper. I fear what I might say in my present state of mind.”
“As you wish, but know I’m sorry for causing you any worry.”
He looked down at her. Confusion still marred his dark expression. He shook his head as if he didn’t understand. “Please, cease your prattle until we arrive home. You are confusing me.”
He’d just shown clear evidence he was the ogre Kat had warned her about. The man seemed intent on a quarrel, refusing to accept her most heartfelt, if not completely honest, apology. Instead of prodding him with questions, she kept her mouth closed and stared at the road ahead.
After a moment of silence, he grumbled, “What ails you now?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Where is the argument?”
“Argument?”
“Cease playing the innocent victim, Mrs. Worthington. You know very well what I refer to.” He sneered. “Your only form of communication is to argue, so why have you suddenly changed?”
She scolded herself for forgetting her role. Kat did possess the talent to argue. Camilla must try to remember this henceforth, but it would be difficult. Whereas Kat had a love for verbal sparring, Camilla avoided confrontation at all costs.
She arched a brow. “Perhaps I am also waiting until we get home.”
She studied his face closely for a reaction, and it wasn’t long in coming. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly and hinted at a smile. If not for the coldness in his gaze, she would have relaxed.
“Very well.” He nodded.
After a short time, they rode into the drive of the most beautiful home she’d ever seen. A three-storied mansion with a massive chimney on each side loomed before her. Her breath caught in her throat. Two dormer windows accented the third floor, while the other windows were in the Palladian style. On the surface, her sister appeared to have been the most fortunate woman in the world, even more so than Camilla, who had married an earl. Yet it was this house, and the very man who lifted her off the horse, that had caused Kat’s melancholy and eventually her death. Camilla wished Kat had told her how Mr. Worthington amassed his fortune.
Once the wagon stopped, Broderick jumped from the seat and walked toward the back. Timothy followed. In one fluid sweep, Broderick lifted her heavy trunk, resting it on his shoulder while Timothy carried her satchel.
“Timothy, please let me carry that.” She stepped toward her servant, taking it from him.
Mr. Worthington’s bark of laughter made her stop as she gave him a confounded stare.
Her sister’s husband scratched his head. “Mrs. Worthington, you are full of surprises today. Broderick will take your luggage to your room.”
Realization dawned, and she decided it best to comply with the man’s instructions. After all, how else would she find her sister’s bedroom? She gaped at the house’s magnificent fa?ade, once again amazed at the grand place where Kat had lived.
“What about Timothy?” she asked. “Where will he stay?”
“I will make certain he is assigned to work an area around the house that best suits his skills.”
“Thank you.” She gave her sister’s husband a curt nod and followed behind Broderick. Although dressed in a similar style, Mr. Worthington’s servant didn’t fill out his clothes as well.
Quickly, she admonished herself. Although Malcolm Worthington had been blessed with the most favorable attributes—mesmerizing hazel eyes, smooth lips, hair a woman would love to run her fingers through—he was still an ogre on the inside. He only cared about his precious money.
Silence reigned until she reached the bedroom on the second floor. She followed Broderick as he walked in and set her trunk down, then turned to look at her with distrust darkening his brown eyes. The more he watched her, the more his expression sharpened, causing her heartbeat to hammer. He stood too close for a mere servant, almost threatening.
She stepped back. “Thank you for helping me, Broderick.”
He took another step closer, and she retreated further.
“Do you need anything else, Mrs. Worthington?” he asked.
Folding her hands together, she held them firmly against her stomach, trying to stop them from shaking. “Thank you again, but that is not necessary. You may leave now.”
The man stopped directly in front of her. Unease turned to fear, and her stomach wrenched. His glare was meant to frighten, but she would not cower.
“Good day, then,” he said.
She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until he walked away, then she emptied her lungs in one big whoosh. What was that all about?
Stepping further into her sister’s room, she scanned the area from top to bottom, tilting her head, admiring the pearly-white ceilings and walls. She moved to the green and yellow drapes on the window and pulled the cord to let the brightness from outside lighten the spacious room. A large marble fireplace ran alongside one wall. She walked to it, knelt, and peered inside, running her hand along the sandstone in awe.
On the other side of the room stood a hand-painted silk screen depicting delicate birds perched on thin vines with a waterfall in the background. She stood and rushed behind it. Shock washed over her. She gasped at the copper bathing tub with brass clawed feet. Even though Lord Hardy had had many expensive possessions while they were married, he had never owned a tub this size.
At the armoire, Camilla swung open the polished cherry-wood doors. The delicate scent of lavender swirled around her. Her hand fluttered to her mouth. This couldn’t be correct. This wasn’t the prison Kat had described.
She grasped the scarlet material nearest to her. Smoothing the velvet between her finger and thumb, she closed her eyes and smiled. She’d always loved the feel of velvet, always loved the way it caressed her skin when she wore it. She tugged down the fur-lined muff, noticing the matching cloak. There wasn’t just one fur cloak, but several.
Kat had mentioned Malcolm wouldn’t buy her anything, and yet these clothes looked as though they belonged to royalty.
Concern washed over Camilla like hot molasses. Why had Kat lied?
Quickly, she pushed the negative thought out. Her sister hadn’t been in her right mind before she died. Malcolm Worthington was at fault, and Camilla was determined, now more than ever, to get him arrested for whatever illegal activities he was doing.
Sighing, she plopped down on the enormous bed decorated with the most beautiful quilts and pillows she’d ever seen. Where did Malcolm get all of his money? And would his income have anything to do with his traitorous deals? There was only one way to find out, but unfortunately, she had to settle in her new place—and role—before she could spy on him. She couldn’t have him suspecting her true identity.