Page 18 of London Dynasty

“That’s your advice?” I said flatly. I was going to make a mess of this. “I’ll just wind up drunk.”

“One thing I’ve learned about the wealthy is that they love to talk about themselves, let them. Your silence will be rewarded with all sorts of inane chatter. Being drunk is just a bonus,” he said with a shrug.

He continued on, giving me a rundown on the foods likely to be served and what Kerrigan might eat, the dancing, the drinks, the dazzling company. I was to spend the evening in the presence of politicians, aristocrats, and billionaires. This wasn’t some casual gathering at the local pub. This was a gala event.

“So, what are we celebrating?” I asked.

Giles frowned, puzzlement written over his face. “Your engagement, of course. Or Kerrigan’s, rather, but you take my point.”

“What?” I blurted out. “I thought I was meeting Spencer for the first time in years.”

“You are, but agreements have been reached.”

Images of handshakes and private meetings held in rooms filled with men and cigar smoke popped into my head. I’d bet that was close enough to what had happened.

“So he’s not going to propose?”

“I suppose he might, but he’s agreed to the arrangement as well.”

Something about that fact struck me. I’d been thinking a lot about how Kerrigan must be feeling, but now I realized Spencer had been dragged into this as well. After the encounter in the bathroom, I was certain he wasn’t looking for a wife out of necessity. It was a business arrangement, plain and simple.

“Why?” I pondered out loud.

“Pardon?” Giles called as he disappeared into the nearby ensuite bath. He returned carrying a silk robe.

I scrambled out of bed, hoping that getting up would clear my head. Slipping into the robe, I wrapped it around me, tying the belt tightly. Long kimono sleeves draped gracefully to my wrists, and I admired the elegant crane print of the fabric for a moment before I found the right way to posit my question. “Why does he need an arranged marriage? What does he get out of it?”

Mr. Belmond had been clear on his reasons for selling his daughter off to the Byrds. They had a title that would convey to her as well as her children someday. He was buying privilege and status and willing to pay with his daughter’s freedom.

“Like all aristocratic families, there’s never enough money,” Giles told me.

“They’re poor?” This surprised me, given the shop I’d met Caroline and Evie in yesterday.

“Not by any standards but their own,” Giles said dryly.

“Do I detect a hint of disdain?” I couldn’t help smiling. I doubted Giles could be this open with the real Kerrigan, but we were something more of equals—each of us being paid to perform services for the Belmond family.

“Perhaps,” he admitted before straightening his back, “but that’s not my place to say. The Byrds are very influential and they’re worth millions of dollars. A union with the Belmond name will give them more power.”

“How much power do they need?” I asked in exasperation.

“A man never has enough power if he senses there is more to be had.” Giles passed me the itinerary. “Do you need help picking your gown for tonight?”

I took a deep breath. “No. I want to try myself, but I would like your thoughts on my choices.”

“Very well.” He tipped his head. “In that case, I will leave you to it and check in on you when the facialist arrives.”

When he left the bedroom, I tip-toed to the closet, still feeling as though any minute someone might burst in and drag me off for being a fraud. I felt like a thief going through Kerrigan’s clothing and belongings.

“It’s part of the job,” I reminded myself as I poked around looking for how the mirrored doors opened. When I found the first one, I discovered another section filled with shoes. How many shoes did she need? Given that she used them to pick her daily outfit, I guessed a lot. The first thing I needed to do was know what I was working with. Walking the perimeter of the oddly-shaped room, I opened each door until I was staring at Kerrigan’s complete wardrobe. I’d expected to discover a lot of clothes, but it was mind-boggling how much was hiding behind those mirrors. Half of Harrods must be hanging in there and all of the clothing had been organized by color. I took a step back and surveyed the shoe sections. There had to be hundreds of shoes for me to choose from. No wonder she was able to start with her shoes.

I felt a bit like Cinderella as I picked up a pair of silver shoes with a heel so high it looked dangerous. I wasn’t sure which would be trickier to walk in—these shoes or glass slippers. Sliding it on my foot, I reached for the other shoe. Instantly, I was half a foot taller than before. I took a cautious step forward followed by another, surprised to discover they were much easier to walk in than I’d expected. Still, I suspected the unnatural height would make it impossible to last the evening wearing them. I studied my choices until I landed on a pair of impossibly beautiful heels. The sheer black fabric had been sculpted into a sensual silhouette, gathering ever so slightly at the heel. It looked like lingerie for feet, and I was in love. Their heels were slightly less extreme than the others. As soon as I slid them on, I understood why Kerrigan started with her shoes. No matter what I wore with them, I would feel sexy.

It turned out, though, that picking a dress that I felt equally enthralled with was impossible. Caroline wanted me to wear something bridal, which made sense now that I knew they were planning to announce our engagement this evening. But Kerrigan’s closet had very little white or ivory. There was a champagne gown that had an intricately beaded bodice studded with silver crystals as well as a number of black dresses ranging from cocktail length to full ball gown. None of them felt right. Because the truth was that no matter what I wore tonight, I was a liar. How could clothing cover up that?

What could I wear that would make me half as glamorous as Kerrigan Belmond? How could I step into her shoes?

Chapter Twelve