Page 39 of A Stolen Heart

“She is Alexandra,” Thorpe pointed out. “That doesn’t mean she’s the Alexandra the Countess wishes she were. And it certainly doesn’t mean she is trying to convince the Countess that she is. Why, she denied it! She told the Countess that she was not her granddaughter.”

“Yes, that was very clever of her,” Ursula remarked acidly. “Pretending that she didn’t know who Simone was, that she didn’t know she’s the exact image of her. That she didn’t know who the Countess was, or Chilton.”

“How could she?” Thorpe asked. “She’s an American.”

“Hmph. That’s what she says.”

Thorpe sighed. “You’re saying that she is only pretending to be American? Why would she do that if she were trying to make us believe that she is Chilton’s daughter? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be English—or even French?”

“How should I know? I don’t know the workings of the criminal mind,” Ursula huffed.

“Ursula, you are not making any sense. Alexandra denied that she was the Countess’s granddaughter.”

“It makes her look good. It makes her appear innocent. You mark my words, she’ll come back later with some other proof that will convince Mother.”

“This is all supposition. You haven’t any facts to support what you’re saying. Alexandra made no effort to meet the Countess. I am the one who introduced Alexandra to her. It is mere happenstance that she even met her.”

“Is it?” Ursula asked, arching a brow. “An American comes to London and just happens to meet a man who is very close to the Countess and who is likely to introduce her to the Countess? How did you meet her, anyway?”

Thorpe hesitated. “Well, um, she was interested in seeing the things I brought back from India.”

Ursula gave him a significant look. “Of course she was. Men are so easily taken in by a pretty face. It’s a wonder they aren’t all robbed blind. So this American girl just shows up, wanting to see your Indian nonsense, and you think there’s nothing havey-cavey about it?”

Thorpe could feel his face reddening. “Some people have an appreciation for other cultures and for art in many forms. And she did not just show up. My agent brought her to see me because she was interested in my collection.” Thorpe chose not to add that Jones had brought her only because Alexandra had bullied him into it. “She owns a shipping company. They import our tea.”

“Really. A woman who owns a shipping company.” Ursula’s words dripped scorn.

“I presume she inherited it from her father. Or it may be her mother’s, for all I know, and she runs it for her.” He caught Ursula’s look and added defensively, “Americans are different.”

“Not that different. Men own businesses.”

“Women inherit property, including businesses.”

“Of course they do, but they have someone else run things for them. They don’t do the buying and selling themselves. Oh, Thorpe, can’t you see? She engineered meeting you so that she could meet Mother. She had obviously researched all of us and knew exactly what to do.”

“I think you have an excessively devious mind.”

“I’m just not a man and therefore not led astray by a curving figure and a fine set of eyes. I can see what’s really happening.”

“You’re being absurd,” Thorpe told her positively. “Alexandra is not capable of playing such a game. She is the most straightforward, honest woman I have ever met. She is downright blunt, in fact. She is not someone who plays games.”

“I did not say she was playing at anything. She’s deadly serious. She is trying to bilk my mother out of lots and lots of money. She obviously planned it out very carefully. She would be far less believable if she came up to my mother’s door and said, ‘Here I am—your granddaughter Alexandra.’ She would also have to come up with some sort of story as to what had happened to her, why she hadn’t been killed with the others, how she had found out who she was and so on. This way, she simply appears, lets the Countess see her and then artfully protests that she is not the Countess’s granddaughter while she slips in the fact that her name is Alexandra. Don’t you see? She made Mother trust her by pretending not to be Alexandra, all the while ensuring that Mother thinks she is.”

“How could she be sure that I would introduce her to the Countess?” Thorpe countered. “I might not have taken her with me to that ball. Or your mother might not have come to it.”

“She was counting on her appeal to get you interested in her. If you hadn’t taken her to the Duchess’s ball, it is quite likely you would have taken her some other place—the opera or a play, perhaps. She plays a genteel woman well enough. You wouldn’t have just given her a tumble as if she were a doxie.”

“You have a certain inelegance of expression, my lady.”

“Nonsense. I am speaking the truth, and you know it. And Mother didn’t have to see her at the ball. If anyone who knew Chilton and Simone had seen her, they would comment on it. It would have eventually gotten back to Mother, and she would have demanded to meet her. If you weren’t interested in her, the girl would have lost nothing. She would have found some other way to meet Mother.”

“You haven’t a shred of proof.”

“Proof! This isn’t a court of law. We are talking about saving Mother from being swindled by this imposter, not about sending the girl to jail.”

“I see. So for vilifying someone’s character, you need no proof at all.”

“Anyone who hadn’t had his head turned by the woman could see that it makes sense!” Ursula made an exasperated noise. “Honestly, Thorpe, I gave you credit for more wit. You’ve made a fool of yourself for a woman before. I would have thought you had learned your lesson.”