Chapter Two
Why did shereturn?
Malcolm Worthington paced the green and gold carpet in the parlor, clenching his hands into fists. Where was that woman? What was taking her so long? Rather than cooling off, as he told her he would, his anger intensified.
Usually an understanding man, he couldn’t forgive her this time for leaving without a word, amongst the other crimes she had committed since their wedding. For the past few months, his life had hung by a thread, and any more catastrophes could send him to his doom.
He wouldn’t surrender without a fight. His wife held secrets—he just didn’t know exactly how many. If he weren’t so worried about it, he would have let her run away. But keeping a close eye on her was crucial at this point. Soon, he would go through Parliament and get the annulment they both wanted, no matter how it tarnished his name.
Grumbling, he raked his fingers through his hair. What had he been thinking, marrying a woman he had never met? His friend had told him of a man who had a daughter he was trying to settle with a good husband. Malcolm should have heard the warning bells when he realized how desperate Mr. Connelly was to have a quick wedding and hand his daughter over. Then again, he had been searching for a mother for his children, and was hoping that marriage would solve that issue, along with finding him a good wife.
Neither had happened.
Now two questions swam through his head—why had she returned, and what would he do with her now she was back?
The sound of swishing skirts close by caught his attention, and he turned. His wife entered, appearing as regal as the first day they had met at her father’s house. Her light brown hair was upswept into a tight knot at the top of her head, with a few soft curls brushing near her ears. The dark gray dress had a high collar and long sleeves, and was snug enough to complement her slender figure. A cameo clasped at her throat was her only jewelry.
He pursed his mouth. Why had she dressed this way? She was neither a servant, nor in mourning. Seeing her attired thus reminded him why he had agreed to marry her in the first place, next to the constant echo of his dying first wife’s wish rushing through his head at that time—Find another wife who could be a mother to our children. Kat had put on a fa?ade of innocence, and he wanted to believe with all his heart such a woman existed.
Now something different glimmered from the depths of her green eyes. A steady, thoughtful regard had replaced the haughty glances.
Would she tell him where she had been all this time and why? No doubt whatever scheme she pursued had gone awry, and she had returned for the financial support of living as his wife. Despite her changes in dress and demeanor, Hell would turn to icicles before he ever trusted her again. It hadn’t taken long after they were wed to discover what a fine performer she was.
“Have you misplaced all your other dresses, Mrs. Worthington?”
“I don’t quite understand your question.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward then strode to her. He gestured to her covered neck. “Planning to seduce a Puritan?”
She grabbed her modest neckline, her eyes wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“And well you should, but I fear your apologies come too late.”
“You do not approve of my dress?”
“I prefer to see the package wrapped in something more fitting to your true self. In that manner, I would be well reminded of the true woman I married.”
She gasped, and her cheeks blotched with red spots. “Are you insinuating that I—”
“Kat, cease playing innocent. It is unbefitting of your true character.” He breathed a deep sigh. “Now, tell me where you have been, and what in heaven’s name possessed you to come back?”
She clasped her hands against her stomach. “As I told you before, I went to care for my ill sister.”
“Why did you return?”
Her brows drew together. “Because I’m your wife and this is where I belong.”
He snorted as he walked in front of her. “When did you decide that?”
“Malcolm,” she said, touching his sleeve, “I really had no intentions of worrying you.”
He caught his breath and glared at her. “What did you call me?”
“Malcolm.” Her face paled.
Hearing his name roll from her lips made his stomach churn. “What are you playing at now? You have never called me by my Christian name.”
She clutched her hands together again, turning her knuckles white. “I don’t know why I called you that.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’m trying to show you I have changed.”
He studied her forest-green eyes, trying to find the cold woman he knew her to be, but only saw a frightened rabbit. “Now I know something is wrong. Why would you want to change?”
She stood straight and lifted her chin. Ah, now there’s the woman I married.
“I’m well aware you have not been pleased with my actions of late, but I’m changing. If I’m going to live with you for the remainder of my life, I might as well make it as happy as I can.”
A low chuckle escaped his throat, and he shook his head. “By your actions thus far in our marriage, I thought you were living only for yourself, gaining pleasure anyway you could. I thought marriage was a hindrance to your overall happiness.” He shrugged off her wide-eyed stare. “What are your plans now?”
She licked her lips. “Um, I thought I would continue on with what I have been doing.”
“I knew you would not change,” he snapped, then marched out of the room, knowing if he stayed another moment, he would wring her lovely neck.
*
Camilla furrowed herbrow. Why did that inconsiderate man question her attire? Studying her image in the fancy glass on the mirrored sidebar, she wiped her moist palms down her skirt. Nothing was wrong with her dress. It was certainly more proper than the gowns she had found hanging in her sister’s armoires.
Her thoughts quickly came to a halt and her heart sank. Realization turned her blood cold. She was now her sister, and so must dress like her. Kat never once dressed modestly when she lived at home, so why would she change after marriage? Why hadn’t Camilla thought of this before she decided to play her twin?
Her heart skipped in an erratic beat with the mere thought of having to wear something so improper. Why, it was absolutely scandalous. Her hand flew to her bosom. She had never shown that much skin, not even while wearing her nightgown.
The closing of the front door drew her attention to the corridor. She stepped to the doorway of the parlor and saw two small children tiptoe up the grand stairs. The lad, probably in his sixth year, looked exactly like Malcolm, with chestnut hair and an oval face, but the little girl looked entirely opposite. Her brilliant blonde hair curled in ringlets around her heart-shaped face. The adorable little angel, probably around four years old, held on to her brother’s hand as she limped behind him.
“Good day,” Camilla greeted them.
The children halted on the steps, and their heads snapped her way. The little girl’s face lost all color, and the boy’s jaw hardened.
The boy turned and moved in front of his sister. “Good day, Camilla. It pleases us to know you are home safe. We worried when Papa said you were lost.”
She sucked in her breath. Two things worried her now. First, why did they act as if they cared when Kat said Malcolm’s children hated her? And second, why were they using her real name? Malcolm called her Kat, yet the children had said the name Camilla. As much as she wanted to know, she couldn’t ask without drawing suspicion.
Through her panic, she smiled. “Is something amiss?” She stared at the little girl. “Did you hurt your leg?”
The girl nodded, her curls bouncing all around her face, but she didn’t speak.
Wearing a stern expression, the boy tried to block his sister from Camilla’s gaze.
“I know you told us not to run, but we couldn’t help it,” he said. “The mean dog came after us again, and Lizzy couldn’t run very fast.” Big tears welled in the boy’s eyes. “Please, don’t be mad at her. I tried to stop the dog, but—” He paused, turning to show the rip on the backside of his breeches. “The dog got me, too.”
Camilla’s heart crumbled at the tender display, and she rushed to the children, kneeling on the step in front of them. She reached out to touch them, and they flinched.
“Let me examine your knee, Lizzy.” Camilla gently lifted the soiled pink dress to the scraped, bloody skin underneath. “You are bleeding. We should clean that cut. It will make you feel better.” She moved to pick up the girl, but she moved out of Camilla’s grasp.
“I will do it,” the boy said with authority.
Lightly chewing on her bottom lip, Camilla narrowed her gaze on the pair. She nodded. “If you do not mind, I would like to watch. Is that permissible?”
The boy’s brow creased as he stared back at her. “Yes.”
She followed the children up the wide staircase to the second floor. She found it very odd that they were so afraid of the woman who had married their father, but they certainly didn’t behave in the manner Kat had described.
A nursemaid scurried from one of the rooms and swept Lizzy up in her arms. “Oh, Mrs. Worthington, don’t you worry about these two. I will take care of them.”
“Nonetheless, I would like to assist,” Camilla said.
This time, all eyes widened. The maid finally nodded. “If you are certain, mistress?”
“I am.” Camilla smiled.
While she helped the maid tend to Lizzy’s knee, she listened to the boy talk about the incident with the dog. She discovered his name was James. Though she had no clue as to why the girl didn’t speak. After Lizzy’s knee had been bandaged, the maid pushed James off to his room to change his breeches.
“James,” Camilla called after him. “If you want to bring your breeches back to me, I will mend the rip and they will be like new.”
Once again, all three stopped and stared with wide eyes, but James appeared more confused than the other two with his creased forehead.
“It is all right,” she assured them. “Make haste, and I will repair them.”
James glanced at the older woman, who shrugged. He started to his room, but then turned back to Camilla.
“Thank you,” he said.
She smiled. “For what?”
“For not scolding us.” He grabbed his sister’s hand, and they turned and ran to their rooms.
Her heart twisted. Could her sister have lied again? What had Kat been doing to Malcolm’s children? Unless, of course, she had reprimanded them because of the way their father had instructed them to treat her. That must be it.
“And I thank you, Mrs. Worthington.” The maid bobbed, then turned, but Camilla grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“Would you please explain something to me before you leave?”
“What might that be?”
“Why do the children call me Camilla?”
Confusion marred the maid’s face, her forehead wrinkling her expression. Perhaps Camilla shouldn’t have asked, but she really needed to know.
“Have you forgotten, Mrs. Worthington?”
“Apparently so.” She massaged her temples. “I think my mind has been scrambled from my long and tedious journey.”
“Well, you specifically instructed us not to use the name their father calls you. They see how upset you get when he uses that name, so they call you by your given name.”
Camilla released an agitated sigh and trailed her fingers down to rub the back of her neck. So, that was the reason Malcolm called her Kat. It was meant to upset her. Yet why would her sister use her name? Malcolm and the children should be calling her Katherine.
Certainly another mystery to unravel.
“I’m sorry I have frightened those poor children. I shan’t do it again. After you help them change, have them come to the parlor. I wish to speak to them.”
The maid nodded and hurried into Lizzy’s bedroom.
Camilla took slow steps down the stairs, her heart so low as to scrape the floor. She walked into the parlor and sank into the closest chair. Before condemning their father for doing illegal activities, she had so much work to do. First, she needed to repair the hearts of those two adorable children. She couldn’t have them thinking she was a bad person. Indeed, she may be the only family they have, and if their father went to the gaol, Camilla might be the one left caring for them.
*
Staring at herselfin the full-length mirror, Camilla groaned and twisted her mouth in distaste. The indecent rusty-red evening gown trimmed with dark brown lace looked horrid on her. Besides exposing much of her shoulders and bosom, the garment was too tight. The stays nearly squeezed the breath right out of her. Several times she struggled to lift the shoulders so they wouldn’t drop down her arms, but they refused to go the way she wanted. She couldn’t have people see her like this. She couldn’t even look at herself without blushing.
“Beth? Could you choose another gown for me?” she called to the maid.
Beth scurried around the room picking up articles of clothes, and then stopped with her arms overloaded. “Why? It’s the dress ye like to wear when ye entertain dinner guests.”
Camilla frowned. She had only been here a day before Malcolm informed her of their upcoming dinner guests. She wanted to tell him how inappropriate that was, since she was fatigued from her journey, until she remembered her arrival had been a surprise to him. If Mr. Worthington was the monster her sister had described, he wouldn’t cancel just because his wife was tired.
Beth dropped the clothes on the bed before coming to Camilla, stopping behind her. The maid ran her fingers over Camilla’s hairstyle.
“Mrs. Worthington, I must say I do like yer ’air when it’s wound up tight like this, so refined and sophisticated. It’s different from ’ow ye used to wear it.”
Camilla brushed the tip of her finger across one of the tendrils by her ear. “I want to look my very best for our company tonight.” She bit her lip in hesitation, but just had to ask. “Remind me again who is in attendance this evening?”
Beth giggled. “I think yer mind is still jumpin’ around from yer trip.”
“Indeed, that is the reason.”
“Well, I hope ye regain yer quick wit soon. I’d hate for Mr. Worthington to yell at ye again, although ye’ve handled his temper before. T’night, one of his business partners, Mr. Kennedy, and his wife are yer guests. Ye know how fidgety the master gets whenever Mr. Kennedy comes to dine.”
Camilla assessed the maid. “I wonder why Mr. Worthington acts in such a manner?”
“I couldn’t guess. Probably ’cause Mr. Kennedy owns most of the business and can drop Mr. Worthington like a boulder in the ocean if he doesn’t approve of his work ethic.”
Tilting her head, Camilla narrowed her eyes at the maid. “How do you know so much about Mr. Worthington and Mr. Kennedy?”
Another giggle. “Ye have left yer memory in Preston, to be sure. Do ye not remember teachin’ me how to listen to their conversations without bein’ seen?”
Shock vibrated through Camilla, and despite her effort to hide it, her jaw dropped. She closed her mouth and smiled. Apparently, Kat had had assistance in her search for answers about Malcolm. “And you are doing exceptionally well, Beth.” She paused. “Is there any more you want to tell me?”
Beth’s forehead crinkled, as if she were searching her mind for answers. “I don’t think so.” Then her eyes widened. “But Mr. Worthington kept attendin’ those secret meetings after ye left. I know he promised ye he wouldn’t go, but after ye left, I think he just didn’t care.”
Secret meetings?This was the very thing Camilla needed to know. She wanted to ask the maid but didn’t want to look foolish, either. Watching Malcolm closely was the key to finding what she wanted. “I understand. I suppose I will have to talk to him about that.”
“Just as I knew ye would.” Beth took a step back and glanced over Camilla’s attire again. “Ye look mighty fine, Mrs. Worthington. It will please Mr. Kennedy, that’s for certain.”
Camilla gasped, placing her hand on her neck. “Why should I want to please Mr. Kennedy?”
Beth’s brows pulled together. “Because ye’re the reason he made Mr. Worthington a partner, which, by the way, doubled yer husband’s wealth. Do ye not remember? If not for yer influence, he would still be workin’ his fingers to the bone at that small company he owned. Oh, for certain he made good money, but it was pure genius to have Mr. Kennedy bring on Mr. Worthington as a partner.”
Camilla recovered, dropping her hand and squaring her shoulders. So that was why Malcolm was so wealthy. “Well, I only wanted what was best for my husband. What I meant to say was that I do not want Mr. Kennedy to think I dress this way to please him.” She gave an uneasy laugh. “I would hate to distress Mrs. Kennedy.”
Beth’s sudden bark of laughter surprised Camilla yet again. She anxiously awaited the maid’s response.
“Ye must be jestin’. Ye have seen how unattractive his wife is. I think Mr. Kennedy would be happy for yer attention, especially when we all know he can’t stop from feastin’ his eyes upon yer loveliness.”
Camilla cleared her throat and turned toward the mirror. “Whomever I impress tonight, I better hurry so I do not miss the dinner party.” She glanced down at her bosom again and frowned. “Beth? Can you locate a scarf that matches this dress?”
“Whatever for?”
“To hide the most daring décolletage I have ever seen.”
Beth laughed again. “Ye’re actin’ strangely, Mrs. Worthington. Besides, I think Mr. Kennedy prefers ye in less, if’n ye knows what I mean.”
Camilla’s legs weakened, and she grasped the chair next to her to steady herself. Could she have heard wrong? Oh, please, say Katherine wasn’t involved in a love tryst. She squeezed her eyes closed. Somebody please tell me something good about my sister.
Camilla composed herself and stood straight, meeting the maid’s gaze. “Nonetheless, I would like something to place in my bodice to help me feel a little more covered. This sheer fichu tucked around the edges will not suffice.”
Beth shrugged and moved into the next room to look through Katherine’s accessories. Within minutes, she came back with a white lace handkerchief and gently stuffed it in the bodice.
“I think that is better, don’t you?” Camilla studied her reflection in the mirror.
“Ye’re just lovely, Mrs. Worthington.”
Although the handkerchief hid a lot of her cleavage, it still didn’t hide her bare shoulders. She shrugged. She couldn’t have everything perfect. After all, tonight she was Kat.
She exhaled and gave the maid a nod. “I think I am presentable now.”
Wringing her hands, Camilla made her way downstairs to Malcolm’s guests. Her legs wobbled like a newborn calf’s, but she forced herself to stay strong. Voices floated from the sitting room. She took a fortifying breath and entered. All eyes turned her way, and she feared her legs would collapse.
She must stay strong and make them believe she was Kat.