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“Claire,” he protested. He couldn’t put her in harm’s way. “I’ll tell you everything she says in a few minutes. I promise.” He bent quickly and kissed her on the cheek. Then he left to visit the modiste.
Colette looked up when he entered the shop, a rueful grin across her face. “Lord Phineas,” she said with a nod. “I expected for you to take longer to come and see me.”
“What do you want, Colette?” he bit out.
“Your young lady, the one you had with you the other day?” she asked, her head tilted to the side coquettishly. “She’s enjoying her time as Mrs. Abercrombie?”
So she did know. That didn’t surprise him. “What do you want, Colette?”
“I want to attend some of the functions Mrs. Abercrombie might be invited to attend.” She shrugged. She looked up at him from beneath heavy-lidded lashes.
Several years prior, Colette had helped him with a difficult case, as she was able to pretend to be his paramour. At the time, he’d been intimate with her, so the ruse was easy. She was very good at subterfuge, he had to admit.
“I would bet you’ve already been Mrs. Abercrombie at least once, if the reports about town are any indication.”
She had the good grace to look chagrined. “I could keep an eye on Mayden for you.” What harm could it do? Claire would never be Mrs. Abercrombie again. Never. “You’ll report back to me what you find out?”
Colette batted her lashes at him. Once upon a time, that might have been attractive. Now it was just annoying. “Of course.”
“Do as you will,” he said and then he strode back out the door.
He collected Claire at the store, paid for the ribbons she didn’t need, and promised to tell her everything the next time they could be alone.
Twenty-Four
Claire appraised herself closely in the looking glass. This time, she’d tinted her hair a perfectly hideous shade of red. She perched a pair of jeweled spectacles on her nose and pursed her lips. She could do this. She was certain she could.
It had taken all afternoon to get the tint for her hair from the apothecary, and then applying it had taken even longer. It wasn’t an easy task to do by one’s self. But she had finally accomplished it, and she barely recognized herself in the mirror.
Claire had asked some of the staff about Lord Gelson’s soiree because the staff in a household knew everything about such events, and they knew everything there was to know about every other house in town as well. Lord Gelson and his wife were a nice, middle-aged couple who had had a bit of a debauched past. But then they’d married, had a few children, raised them, and gone the way of respectability.
Except for the masked ball they threw once a month. Claire retrieved her black mask from where she’d hidden it in her wardrobe and stuffed it into her reticule.
Claire’s hair was tied in a knot at the nape of her neck, and it hung over her left shoulder. Finn would murder her if he caught her in this gown. It was one she’d ordered for Mrs. Abercrombie. Claire couldn’t be Mrs. Abercrombie any more, particularly now that Colette had assumed the name. But she could pass herself off as someone else, couldn’t she? She tugged at her bodice. Her breasts were pushed up high, like they were set upon a shelf for display. Colette had assured Claire that she was stunning in the dress, but Claire wasn’t so sure.
She plumped the pillows stuffed beneath her counterpane and stepped back, satisfied with herself. She crept to the door and opened it slowly. It was late, and her parents often retired early and then rose with the sun.
Claire tiptoed down the corridor toward the servants’ stairs. She would go out the side door and catch a hackney, an
d hopefully no one would be the wiser.
It seemed almost a bit too quiet as she ran down the stairs and cautiously pushed the door open. Cool night air washed across her skin as she walked purposefully toward the street. She’d had a footman call for a hackney, supposedly for Marcus, a half hour before that. Hopefully, one would be waiting.
Claire sighed, anticipation sizzling across her skin. She loved this life. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
Claire was certain Finn would be going to Lord Gelson’s so that he could intercept Colette and find out what she had learned so far. No one had to know he also had some of his investigators in place at the party to keep an eye on Mayden.
She gave the driver instructions and slipped into the waiting hack. It wasn’t until someone reached out and grabbed her arm in a forceful grip that she had even the slightest bit of trepidation.
***
Finn knew it. He’d known she would try this. “Miss Thorne,” he said, his voice frosty even to him, as he sat down next to her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Sir, I do not know who you think I am, but I must insist that you exit my carriage.”
Finn had to look at her very closely to assure himself that it was, indeed, Miss Thorne who sat opposite him. Some little piece of him wasn’t entirely certain, but he would bet his life that it was her behind all that ghastly red hair and those spectacles. He leaned close and sniffed her neck.
“You smell like Miss Thorne,” he said softly. She shivered. He very tenderly touched his lips to the place where her neck met her shoulder and suckled. “You taste like Miss Thorne.”
