Page 42 of Katherine the Vixen

But Siaspar smiled and tilted his head. “Indeed. Just like a lady.”

“Coming from a brewer’s grandson, I’m not sure I should put too much score on the compliment. You might well be too easily impressed.”

“Oh, you can safely assume I know what I’m talking about,” he assured her, becoming deadly serious. “I am not so lowly that I was born in a brewery and have seen many a lady in my life. And you look more enchanting than all of them put together.”

Katherine loved this exchange between them. For a heady moment, she could fool herself into believing that she was indeed a great lady talking to a lord who was her equal. They certainly looked the part, her in the fur-trimmed dress and him in his most resplendent tunic.

“So I do not look too English for you?”

He looked at her thoroughly, as if trying to decide whether she did or not.

“Oddly, no,” he said eventually. “Not at all.”

“Until I speak, that is. Then I do not sound remotely Welsh.”

“No. You do not.” He gave a chuckle. “But I do not hold it against you. I cannot, when you sound so delightful.”

Delightful. Enchanting. What next?

She was about to say something—though, what, she wasn’t sure—when a voice was heard behind her.

“My lady, I need to ask for your opinion on—” Lady Helen stopped in her tracks when Katherine turned around and she was faced with someone she did not know instead of Lady Malpas. She let out a strangled croak and directed her next question to Siaspar. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Allow me to explain,” he answered, as composed as usual. “This is…” He turned to Katherine and tilted his head as if to ask her what her name was. She lowered her eyes to the floor to hide her smile.

Catrin.

“Katherine, my lord.”

“Katherine.”

He managed to make it sound as if he had never heard the name before in his life. She marveled at his ability to dissemble. Then she remembered how he had done his best to make her talk and betray herself on their second night together. This man was a master at deception, much more than she or Lady Malpas would ever be.

“Katherine here will take your mistress’ place when the tailors come later today,” he explained to the lady in waiting. “Her ladyship has deemed it below her dignity to wait while measurements for the dresses are made. Fortunately for her, you will agree, my dear Lady Ellen, that⁠—”

“My name is Lady Helen, my lord,” the woman interrupted crisply.

From the way Siaspar’s lips curled, Katherine understood that the mistake had been deliberate. So, he had no more love for the lady than he did for his wife. Interesting.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“You are saying Lady Ellen. It’s Lady Helen.”

He blinked once, the face of a man bewildered by something he didn’t understand. “You will agree, Lady Helen,” he said with exaggerated emphasis on the H, “that Katherine here is a perfect replacement for Lady Malpas. Why, you have just mistaken her for your mistress. They are almost identical in every way, as you can tell from the way this gown fits her. I defy anyone to know one from the other. I wager even I could be fooled myself in the right circumstances.”

Katherine bit the inside of her mouth to stop herself from laughing when he gave his most angelic smile. Nothing had ever given her more pleasure than seeing Siaspar at his most mischievous.

Well.

Except for one thing.

Having him make love to her with exquisite skill.

“This girl, whoever she is, is nothing like my mistress,” Lady Helen said haughtily.

Whoever she is.

This was not just a comment aimed at being dismissive. It was clear that the lady genuinely didn’t remember her. And why should she? The only time she had truly looked at her had been when she had instructed her to go report to the kitchen over two months ago.