Chapter Twenty
Camilla forced her eyes open, ignoring the pain slicing through her skull. The room tilted. Nausea spun in her stomach, and she clenched her jaw to keep from disgracing herself. She tried to roll over, but her feet wouldn’t move. Even her hands were bound together. Confusion made her head throb harder.
A dirty floor came into view, followed by cobwebs and hay. She squinted against the morning light pouring through the dust-streaked window beside her. She moved her hands, but the ropes burned her wrists. Her mouth tasted of dirty cotton because of the cloth resting between her teeth. She ran her tongue across the material, and then gagged again. What was going on?
Deep laughter lanced through her head. Like a spear, the rough sound pierced the already painful tissue. She peered toward the sound. In the corner of the barn, leaning up against the wall, Captain Wilkes stood wearing a cocky grin.
“Ah, my dear, you are finally awake.”
She scowled. The imbecile. Of course she was awake.
He pulled away from the wall and sauntered toward her holding a bottle of whiskey. “Thought you might like a drink to dull the pain in your head. Your sister whacked you pretty good last night.”
Although Camilla would rather not drink alcohol, she needed something to moisten her dry throat—and an excuse for him to take this vile rag out of her mouth. She nodded.
He knelt beside her and loosened the gag. Once it had been removed, she opened her mouth, stretching her achy jaw.
“Here.” He held the bottle to her lips. “Just take a little sip.”
She studied his eyes, evil as the devil himself. The liquor touched her tongue, and then burned her throat. She jerked away, making the whiskey dribble down her jaw to her neck. She coughed, but the scalding pain in her throat increased.
He threw his head back and laughed. “It would appear you have not formed a liking for spirits.”
She glared at him. “My throat was dry, you dolt.”
“So, last night you were just pretending?” he asked.
She bit her lips together, not wanting to even waste her breath on him.
“You know,” he continued, “if not for your sister, I would have never known the difference.” He touched her hair and rubbed a lock between his finger and thumb. He grinned. “I really cannot tell the two of you apart.”
Her stomach lurched again, and this time she prayed something would come up and dump on him. Her prayers went unanswered. She cleared her throat. “Where is Kat?”
“She will be here momentarily. I’m certain she is as thrilled to visit with you as you are to visit with her.”
“Not likely,” Camilla muttered.
He laughed again and stood. “I have no idea what your sister has planned for you, but let me give you a bit of information. Your lover will die, as will his friend Broderick.”
She narrowed her eyes. “My lover? Are you referring to my husband?”
“Mr. Worthington is not your husband. He is married to your sister.”
“You are wrong. Malcolm Worthington married Camilla Connelly, and my birth certificate states the name of Camilla. I refuse to believe my father has lied to me all these years.”
The smirk remained on Wilkes’s face as he shook his head. “Your sister did mention how sick in the head you are. Now I can see why she would say such a thing.”
Camilla’s heart sank. The pain from her head moved to her chest, making it hard to breathe. Kat was the sick one, not her.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. She wouldn’t give Captain Wilkes the satisfaction of seeing her this way.
Thundering hooves neared the stable and made her heart spring to life again. Please let it be Malcolm.
Wilkes grabbed his pistol and ran to the window. His shoulders relaxed and he sighed. “Your sister is finally here.” He tucked the pistol back in his belt before hurrying out to meet Kat.
Through the opened doors of the stable, Camilla spied her sister dismounting. Kat ran to her lover, throwing her arms around him. Their mouths met in a hungry, slobbery kiss. Camilla squeezed her eyes to cut off their hideous display.
Kat’s shrill laughter made Camilla snap her eyes open. The woman stalking toward her wasn’t the pathetically ill wastrel she had talked to in the asylum, although malice still lingered in Kat’s eyes. Camilla’s heart sank further.
Kat crouched to her level and snickered. “My dear, foolish sister. You fell right into my trap.”
“Why are you doing this?” Camilla whispered. “Why did you lie to me about being sick, and then fake your own death?”
Kat shrugged. “Because I wanted everything to go my way. Malcolm is a rich man, but I didn’t want him to be my husband. When I saw the chance to marry, I took it, but with the intent of making a better life for myself.” She glanced over her shoulder at Wilkes. “And now, the captain has offered me that better life.”
“By pretending to die?”
“Of course. I couldn’t have pulled any of this off otherwise.”
“But Kat, eventually the truth will come out.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“What about those people who love you? What about me, your own sister?”
Kat laughed eerily, sending ripples of fear up Camilla’s spine.
“Oh, my poor, pathetic sister. You still have your head in the clouds.” She leaned in closer. “When are you going to start thinking about yourself?” She pushed her finger into Camilla’s chest. “No one is going to get you where you want to be in life. You cannot rely on anybody but you.”
“I don’t think the way you do, Kat. The reason I came here in the first place was for you,” Camilla explained. “I planned to avenge your death and get your husband to pay your hospital and funeral debts.” A sob tore from her throat. “You are the only family I have.”
Kat frowned and cupped the side of Camilla’s face. “Not to worry. I will take care of you.”
Camilla scrunched her forehead. “You will?”
“Yes. The asylum for the mentally insane in Preston is still looking for you.”
Fear pierced through Camilla like ice. Kat was actually going to commit her own twin.
*
Malcolm squinted againstthe sunlight pouring upon his face through the window. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain—even his eyelids ached. An intense throbbing began in his skull. He jerked his head up from his desk and sat straight. Cursing, he rubbed his eyes as he tried to remember what had caused him to sleep in his study instead of going upstairs to join his wife in their bed. He stretched his stiff neck and rolled his achy shoulders.
The pitter-patter of small feet echoed outside his study mere seconds before the door flung open. James, still wearing his nightshirt, came running toward him. Malcolm stood and stepped toward his son.
“Papa,” James sobbed, his eyes puffy and red. “Mama is gone.”
Malcolm blinked to clear his tired vision. Kneeling, he took hold of his son’s shaky hands. “James, what are you talking about?”
The boy’s bottom lip quivered, and his eyes filled with tears. “Mama is gone.”
Malcolm patted his son’s tousled hair. “Perhaps Mama just went riding this morning.”
“No, she is gone.”
A deeper pounding vibrated through Malcolm’s head, and he squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m certain she will return momentarily.”
“No, because that mean lady will not let her.”
He didn’t know if his headache grew worse from stress or his son’s words. He looked at his son. “What mean lady?”
“The lady me and Lizzy don’t like.”
Malcolm rubbed his forehead. Where was Jane? He couldn’t take any more of this, and she would certainly set things right with his children.
He inhaled, hoping to clear his head. “Son, we can discuss this later today. Right now, I have to get cleaned up and meet some men. Broderick is still in jail, and we need to help him.” He patted James’s cheek. “Do you understand?”
His son’s mouth drooped as tears fell down his face. “But Papa, that mean lady—”
“James.” Malcolm’s tone turned harsh. “We will talk about this later.” He stood, urging his son ahead of him. “Now run along and get dressed. Camilla is probably out riding, so have Jane help you.”
The boy’s chin trembled as he shook his head, turned, and fled from the room.
Malcolm’s heart wrenched, which certainly didn’t make his stressful headache any better, but he couldn’t concentrate on his son’s problem right now. Freeing Broderick was of the utmost importance, and he needed a clear head in order to think.
He hurried out of the study and up the stairs to his bedroom. He rushed through his morning ritual of readying for the day, and within an hour, he exited his room feeling more refreshed. Yet his heart still hurt for his friend.
On the way down the stairs, he passed Beth.
“Mornin’, Mr. Worthington.”
“Good morning. Have you seen my wife?”
She nodded. “Mrs. Worthington left the ’ouse early to go ridin’.”
“Thank you.”
He continued down the stairs and into the dining room. Breakfast had been prepared and set out on the table. James and Lizzy looked up at him when he entered, both wearing drawn expressions, both having red eyes that swam with tears.
“Why do you look so glum?” Malcolm asked.
Lizzy sniffed and swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “Mama is gone.”
He rolled his eyes skyward. “Lizzy, she will return, I promise. She is just out riding.”
“No,” James shouted, slamming his hands on the table.
Malcolm jumped and scowled at his son’s eruption. “James, you will explain this outburst.”
Squaring his shoulders, the boy pushed away from the table and stood. “Papa, you have to believe us. Mama is gone.”
Malcolm growled and ran his fingers through his hair. He strode around the table and grabbed his son’s arm. “I have heard enough. If you continue with this, you will spend the rest of the day in your room.”
“Papa.” Lizzy sobbed as she rushed to him and grabbed his free hand. Big, soulful eyes pleaded with him. “James isn’t lying. Mama is gone.”
He studied his children, saw their little hearts breaking over what must be a misunderstanding. They had never acted in such a manner before.
He knelt and wrapped his arms around them. “Please don’t cry. I’m certain she will return—”
“No, Papa.” Lizzy’s blonde ringlets bounced as she shook her head. “Mama is gone. But that mean lady you married is back.”
A different pain sneaked into his chest. All the air in his lungs left in a rush. With a deep, calming breath, he gathered his wits. “What do you mean, the woman I married?”
James wiped his eyes and swallowed. “Mama—the lady who loves us—is gone. The mean lady you married is here instead.”
Confusion swam in his head. The idea was impossible. Camilla’s sister was dead. “Kat’s back?”
Both children nodded, their eyes wide with fright.
“How do you know?” Malcolm asked.
“She yelled at us this morning.” James hiccupped a sob. “She called me and Lizzy mean names again. Our mama loves us and would not do that. We tried to find her, but she is gone.”
Malcolm’s blood turned to ice, chilling every inch of his body. Kat was still alive… and had returned? What had that woman done with Camilla? He knew Kat had never been in her right mind, but if she were still alive, would she cause her sister harm?
He leaned over and kissed James’s head, then Lizzy’s. “No need to fear. I shall find her.”
“Promise?” James asked.
“Yes.” He stood. “I will also get rid of that mean woman.”
Smiles crossed his children’s puffy faces, and his heart melted, yet it still felt heavy from Camilla’s loss. Panic surged through him, more powerful than it had when he heard of Broderick’s arrest.
The first place he looked for Kat was at the stable, but she hadn’t returned from her ride. Impatient, he stormed back inside the house, waiting for her return.
In the next hour, he gathered his trusted servants and instructed them to search everywhere for his wife. Malcolm even bribed them with an incentive for getting a bonus.
He paced the parlor, each step increasing his anger. He fisted his hands at his sides, eager to take his frustration out on somebody. Anybody. Kat hadn’t returned, and it had been three hours since the children told him about the switch. When did it happen? And why hadn’t he detected it?
He stopped at the window, looking toward the stable. The switch must have happened last night at the jail. When she’d climbed into the carriage and kissed him, it felt different. And her attitude once they walked inside the house was off, too.
Strange how his children would know the difference between the two women. They never once mentioned they knew Camilla was a different woman, and even if they didn’t fully understand now, they knew enough to warn him.
Off in the distance, a rider approached. He gritted his teeth and scowled. It was Kat. Even from here, he recognized the haughty tilt of her chin, the straight edge to her back, as she slowed the horse to a stop. She jumped down, and the holier-than-thou way she tossed the reins to Hyrum confirmed his suspicions.
Kat had indeed returned. But not for long, if he had his way.
Exhaling the contained anger in one gust, he ran his fingers through his hair. The echo of her boots outside the front hall had him hurrying to the parlor door to catch her as she passed. The clinging red riding habit was not the one Camilla usually wore, but the one Kat had liked to taunt him with. The first time she had purchased it, he compared her to a fancy-dressed strumpet. Holding her head high, she told him it fit her true nature.
But he mustn’t let Kat know he suspected. Not yet.
“There you are, my dear.” He stepped out of the parlor and into her path.
Her sudden stop caught her off balance, and she reached out to grasp his shoulders. When she righted herself, she yanked her hands away as if she had been burned. The smile she gave him looked forced. Kat’s eyes had never twinkled like her sister’s.
“Oh, you startled me.” She chuckled. “What are you about this afternoon?”
He stepped closer, closing the space between them as he slid his arms around her waist. She stiffened, just as he knew she would. “I missed holding you last night. I thought we could rectify that situation.”
The laugh she forced out grated on his nerves, and all he wanted to do was shake her senseless and demand she tell him where Camilla was. But he wouldn’t get aggressive. Not yet.
“But… but… right now?” she stammered.
“Yes.”
“Um, what about the children?”
“They are with Jane.”
Her gaze darted around the hall. “But what about Broderick?” Her focus returned to his eyes. “I thought you were going to devise a plan to rescue him.”
“Others are working on that at this very moment. Right now, I need to hold my wife, since I missed doing so last night.” He leaned in and buried his face in her neck. Another man’s scent clung to her skin, and his stomach lurched. Lifting his head before vomiting, he growled and hoped it didn’t emphasize his anger. He swept her in his arms. “Come, my love, for I cannot wait another moment.”
Panic slashed across her face, making her eyes wide, her face pale. But he tightened his hold and rushed up the stairs to their room. After entering, he kicked the door closed then dumped her on the bed. Taking his time, he yanked off his over-jacket and waistcoat. She scooted back toward the headboard.
She placed her hands over her bosom as if to protect herself. The shining gold ring he had given Camilla glimmered as the sun’s rays hit it. That’s not Kat’s ring! Anger tore through him once again, but he tried to maintain his composure.
“Please, think of the hour of the day,” she said.
He laughed. “It didn’t bother you the other afternoon.”
“Yes, but… but… I don’t feel well today.”
He stopped unfastening his shirt. “Indeed? You looked fine just a moment ago in the hall.”
She placed her hand to her belly. “I don’t know what ails me, but it’s churning my stomach.”
He knew exactly how she felt. He knelt on the bed and stroked her face. She withdrew into the pillows. He found it odd that he couldn’t tell the difference between Kat and Camilla before, but he could now. His real wife was more beautiful inside and out. “Do you think you are in the family way?”
She grimaced. “Of course not.”
He leaned over her and wrapped a lock of hair around his finger. “Then perhaps we should do something to fix that.”
She splayed her hands across his chest and pushed. “Malcolm, no.”
He grasped a handful of hair and yanked, putting his weight on top of her. She cried out.
“I thought I told you once never to call me Malcolm.” He scowled. “I would rather a hussy not be so personal with my name, Katherine.”
She gasped, and the color faded from her cheeks.
“Yes, I know who you are.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you have exactly two minutes to tell me where you are keeping my true wife, Camilla.”
Her expression changed, and laughter filled her eyes as her lips curled into an evil grin. “And if I don’t?”
He tightened his hold on her hair. “I’ll not be held responsible for what I shall do.”
Tilting back her head, she laughed, and the high-pitched sound raked over his nerves. “You know I shall never give you that pleasure.”
“Why didn’t you die as you led Camilla to believe? Who did you charm to get released from the hospital?”
“I charmed no one. The physician Camilla spoke with that evening was a friend of mine. It was all part of my plan.”
“What plan?”
“To send my sister here to play me so I could sneak behind your back and watch you closely. It was rather entertaining finding ways to steal your work and give them to Henry Wilkes.”
“What does Captain Wilkes want with them?”
She laughed again, her voice turning even more evil. “He is one of Mr. Clarkston’s spies. The man wants to see what kind of ships you’ll be making for the navy so that he can make better ones.”
Malcolm growled. He wondered if Clarkston was behind all of this. “Why is Wilkes involved?”
“Because he is the man who can arrest you and take the credit, which will make him a colonel soon.”
Confusion consumed his mind, yet he had always known Kat was greedy. She could have the world served to her on a silver platter and it still wouldn’t be enough. “You won’t win this time, Kat.”
“I already have. Plans are in place, and you and my foolish sister are falling into the trap, just as I wanted.” She arched a haughty eyebrow. “And Broderick fell just as easily. Indeed, I am the victor.”
“What does Broderick have to do with this?”
“It’s called revenge. I don’t take kindly to men who turn away my advances.” She shrugged. “So, I charmed him one last time as a different woman.”
“You were the woman he met?”
She laughed again. “Correct.”
Events in the past few months flitted through his head. Suddenly, everything made sense. He scowled. “And were you perhaps the one who tried to kill me on Colonel Burwell’s fox hunt?”
“Unfortunately, that part of my plan didn’t work.” She rolled her eyes. “I was never a good shot with a rifle.”
He tightened his grip on her arms. “Where is Camilla?”
The evil grin on her face stretched wider, and she shrugged.
He shook her once. “Men are searching the city to find Camilla. I have instructed them to shoot whoever stands in their way. I would prefer not to kill anyone right now, but what if one of your lovers takes a bullet? Is it worth your silence?”
“Sorry, my dear Mr. Worthington, but I shall not tell you a word.”
He had never hit a woman before, but Kat made his hands itch to do so now. He moved off her but kept hold of her wrist.
“Come here.” He yanked her out of the bed and over to a chair. “Timothy?” he called.
The servant hurried into the room, holding ropes. “Do ye need these now, sir?”
It surprised him that Timothy was so perceptive. “How did you know?”
“I knew last night when I brought ye ’ome from the jail. I just was afraid to tell ye.”
Malcolm nodded. “Remind me to give you a raise.” He motioned to the ropes. “Will you help me tie her up?”
“Certainly, Mr. Worthington.”
Kat squirmed and kicked at the servant. “You traitor! You should be taking orders from me, not him.”
“I serve Mr. Worthington, Miss Katherine.”
Malcolm tied her hands, and then held her struggling legs while Timothy wrapped the ropes and knotted them. Malcolm turned to his dresser and pulled out a pair of Camilla’s stockings. “I think we shall have to stuff these in her mouth to keep her quiet.” He grinned and stalked toward her.
Her eyes widened. “Don’t you dare!”
“Those will be the last words I hear from you.” He wrapped the stocking around her head, stuffing part of it into her mouth. Once done, he pulled Camilla’s ring from her finger before stepping to his closet and retrieving his pistol and saber. He glanced over his shoulder at the servant. “Come, Timothy. My wife is in danger, and we need to find her.”