Dancing on the Wind

Chapter 17

After a startled moment, Lucien laughed out loud. "I glad to see your imagination hasn't failed yet, but surely you can come up with something better than a mythical twin sister. That's a plot device from a Gothic novel."

"Kristine is not mythical-she is a comic actress who performs as Cassie James. You obviously know her, but you most assuredly don't know me." She swallowed hard. "So for pity's sake, don't blame me for whatever you think my sister has done."

Lucien hesitated. Damnation, but the girl was convincing. He studied her earnest face. Every feature, line, and hollow was exactly as he remembered. The soft brown hair that glinted with gold and the slim, graceful figure were equally familiar. There was no sign of the bawdy vitality of Sally or Cassie James, but her demeanor was similar to that of "Jane" when she had claimed to be a young lady trying to help her brother.

Based on her record, Lady Nemesis was quite capable of acting the role of shy Lady Kathryn Travers, poor relation. She had also, briefly, responded to his embrace as naturally as if it was familiar. Yet there was something in her voice that caused him to wonder if she might possibly be telling the truth.

There was one way to find out, even a consummate actress would have trouble concealing her identity in a kiss. He drew her close and bent his head.

Before their lips could touch, she jerked back and hit him with a ringing slap across the cheek. "How dare you, sir!"

Yes, she was strong. Yet what caused him to release her was not force, but the note of outraged virtue in her voice. It was hard to believe that even the most gifted of actresses could sound so much like an offended virgin.

Cheek stinging, he scrutinized Kathryn's face once more. Yet even though he used all his trained powers of observation, she still looked exactly like the duplicitous minx who had brought chaos to his orderly life. Except, perhaps, there might be more vulnerability in the depths of those clear gray eyes than he had seen before. "No twins are truly identical," he said slowly. "There are always subtle differences, yet I see none in this case. And believe me, I speak as one who has studied you with great concentration."

She blushed and ducked her head as if embarrassed by the warmth in his eyes. "All of our lives, people have said that Kristine and I are the most identical twins they've ever seen," she said haltingly. "But believe me, if Kristine was here, you could tell us apart instantly. You'd never notice I was in the room, because she has the kind of vitality that draws every eye."

"Many actresses and actors have that ability, and they can turn it off when they choose to," he said, unimpressed. His eyes narrowed. "When Lady Graham introduced us, you recognized me, though you tried to conceal your reaction."

"That wasn't recognition, but alarm," she said tartly. "You were glaring at me as if I were a cockroach."

"Surely not a cockroach," he said with an involuntary smile.

"Your expression was enough to terrify any innocent female." She went to stand by the fire, her head bowed. "I don't know what is between you and Kristine, and frankly, I don't want to know. My only desire is to be left in peace."

"I'm still not convinced that you have a sister." He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, regarding her thoughtfully. "Since my experience is that you are a fluent liar, I'll need stronger evidence than your unsupported word."

She raised her head and gave him an icy glance. "I can't see why the burden of proof should be on me. I was minding my own business when you assaulted me."

Good God, what if she really was an innocent stranger who had never seen him before? An appalling thought. "If you're telling the truth about having a twin sister, I'll owe you a groveling apology."

A hint of smile showed in her eyes, as if the prospect pleased her. "Prepare yourself to be humbled, Lord Strathmore, because Kristine is as real as you are."

As she became more relaxed, Kathryn paradoxically seemed both more and less like the woman he knew. She had the familiar quicksilver intelligence, yet it was coupled with a cool reserve that was new to him. Of course, an actress could simulate that.

He was more likely to get information by being conciliatory instead of accusing. "I know it's an impertinence on my part, Lady Kathryn, but would you be willing to explain why you and your sister are leading such different lives?"

At the implication that he had accepted her story, she relaxed even more and took a seat by the fire. "It's really quite simple. My father was the fourth Earl of Markland. The Traverses have never had any distinction apart from charm, wildness, and a tendency to produce identical twins. The family seat, Langdale Court, was in Westmoreland."

He took the chair opposite her. "Was?"

She sighed. "My father inherited a load of debts and promptly piled on a mountain of his own. The house was falling about our ears when we were growing up. My mother died when we were ten, and after that we ran wild. If some of the ladies in the neighborhood hadn't taken an interest in us, we would have been complete heathens. Papa managed to hold off the bailiffs when he was alive, but after his death five years ago, the estate went to auction, the title went to a second cousin in America, and Kristine and I were left penniless."

"Your father was so irresponsible that he made no provisions for your future?"

"Thinking about the future was not in his nature," she said dryly. "I suppose he thought that eventually he would dower us with the winnings from some card game, but he never got around to it. My mother was a vicar's daughter who was disowned after eloping with my father, so there was no help from her side of the family either. Kristine and I were in the position of any other young ladies of good birth and no fortune."

"Which is not a good position at all."

"Precisely. One can marry, find work, or become a poor relation existing on charity."

"Marriage would seem the logical choice. You are both very attractive young women."

"It takes a great deal of beauty to overcome the lack of a dowry," she said cynically. "And there were… other reasons."

He wondered what they might be, but refused to let himself get sidetracked. "Is that when you came to live with Lady Jane?"

She nodded. "Fortunately, Aunt Jane had inherited a modest independence from her grandmother, enough to maintain an establishment here in London. I was happy to accept when she offered us a home, since I don't think I would make a very good governess, and I certainly wasn't qualified to do anything else."

When she fell silent, he prodded, "What about Kristine?"

She gazed into the dancing flames. "My sister is ten minutes older than I, and she inherited both of our shares of the Travers charm and wildness. She's too headstrong, too independent to settle for a quiet life with a blue stocking aunt. She had always loved acting and performing, and she often organized plays and concerts. So she decided to throw propriety to the winds and try for a career in the theater."

"And so the two of you become classic examples of good twin, wicked twin."

Missing the irony in his tone, she said sharply, "Kristine is not evil, simply braver than most. She would never take the coward's way out."

Was that how Kathryn saw her own life-as the coward's way out? "The theater may not be evil," he said mildly, "but it is an unusual choice for a gently bred girl. Her reputation would be destroyed."

"Kristine said what use is a reputation when it comes to putting food on the table? If she was going to be poor, she might as well enjoy herself. She chose to use a stage name to avoid embarrassing the family, not that there is much family left to embarrass. It took her several years, but as you know, she's now doing very well."

"Do you keep in close touch with her?"

Expression troubled, Kathryn turned her gaze back to the fire. "Though Aunt Jane has radical political views, her personal moral standards are of the highest. She strongly disapproved of Kristine's decision and forebade her the house. That made it… difficult for me to see my sister."

"In other words, you had to choose between your twin and having a roof over your head," Lucien guessed. "Difficult."

"Not at all. Kristine effectively made the decision for both of us, just as she always made decisions in the past."

The pain in her voice cut too close to the bone for Lucien's comfort. "Surely she misses you as much as you miss her."

Kathryn's face shuttered. "That is neither here nor there, Lord Strathmore. You wanted to know why my sister and I lead very different lives, and now you do. I'll thank you not to spread the information. Jane would not like it to be public knowledge that Cassie James is really a black sheep Travers."

"Your aunt sounds like a bit of a tyrant."

"She has been very good to me," Kathryn said with even greater coldness. "I will not countenance criticism of her."

He admired her loyalty and hoped it was rewarded in kind. Despite her prickliness, there was a vulnerability about Kathryn that made him want to protect her-even though he was still not convinced that she wasn't a bald-faced liar.

"Though actresses can happen in even the best-regulated families, I understand why Lady Jane would rather not advertise the connection. However, since you are identical twins, trying to conceal the relationship seems like an exercise in futility."

She shrugged. "Not really. While we are generally considered attractive, we have no single, distinctive feature like red hair or unusual height. When Kristine performs, she wears costumes and cosmetics so that she scarcely looks like herself, much less like me. Since my circle of acquaintance is small, there are few people in a position to notice the resemblance. No one has made the connection yet."

He smiled. "I take your point, but you do yourself and your sister less than justice. Though your features may not be flamboyant, the total effect is… memorable." His gaze went to the heavy coil of hair at her nape. If loosened, it would fall past her waist. "For example, your hair might be dismissed as merely brown, but it is still lovely. Thick, shiny, and shimmering with gold highlights."

She touched her head self-consciously, then stopped in midgesture. "I should have thought of it sooner-our hair is the one obvious difference between my sister and me. Mine has never been cut, but Kristine shortened hers to make it easier to wear wigs." A triumphant gleam showed in her eyes. "Even the cleverest of actresses couldn't grow this much hair in the interval since you last saw my sister, Lord Strathmore. Does that finally convince you that we are two different women?"

A vivid mental image of soft hair brushing Cassie James's shoulders flashed through his mind. He uttered a mental oath. Damnation, but his brain was failing. He should have noticed himself. A different apparent hair length was not absolute proof that he was dealing with two separate women, but it came close. "You could be wearing a switch of false hair."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a suspicious man, but even you must admit that if I am using a switch, it is an exact match for my natural hair."

She was correct again; her warm, subtly gilded brown tresses were entirely consistent. Hah? joking, he said, "For proof positive, I would have to pull out the pins so your hair could fall freely."

Her eyes narrowed like an aggrieved feline. "Enough, Lord Strathmore. A certain amount can be forgiven because you confused me with my sister, but I will not permit further assaults on my person. Surely, even rakes know that the rules are different for actresses and ladies."

He had to laugh. "You've routed me completely, Lady Kathryn. One last question before I take my leave. Besides her acting, does your sister write political essays under the name L. J. Knight?"

Kathryn's brows arched. "Of course not. She is an excellent actress, but certainly not a writer. What ever gave you such a foolish idea?"

"Kristine did."

"She must have given a truly superior performance if she convinced you that a twenty-four-year-old girl could write with the perception of L. J. Knight."

"She's a very persuasive young woman." Making a guess based on something he had heard in her voice, he asked, "Do you know Mr. Knight yourself?"

"Not personally, but Aunt Jane does. According to her, he is an aging invalid with a sharp tongue and little patience for human foibles. They deal very well together."

If Kathryn knew that about Knight, undoubtedly Kristine did too, which would explain why she had known it was safe to claim his identity. It all made sense.

Getting to his feet, Lucien said, "You've been very helpful, Lady Kathryn. I'm sorry if I distressed you earlier."

"That's not a true groveling apology, but I will accept it anyhow." She gave him a level look. "You're not going to hurt Kristine when you find her, are you?"

"No." He smiled wryly. "Besides, I haven't the foggiest notion where she is. Unless you can tell me?"

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you, Lord Strathmore. I may not approve of the life Kristine has chosen, but she is still my sister."

He had not expected anything else. "Very well. Until next time, Lady Kathryn."

"I sincerely hope that there will never be another time," she said with a return to her earlier acerbity. "Considering the length of time we have been closeted together, it would be best if we left separately. I'll wait here for a few minutes."

He hesitated as if on the verge of saying something more, then settled for a bow and a formal farewell.

After the study door closed, Kit leaned back in her chair, shaking. Had Strathmore believed her? He had seemed to, but she was unsure; he was a difficult man to read. She wondered what he would do with the information he had pried out of her. Though he might not be an enemy, that didn't mean that he wasn't a danger.

Danger…

She shivered as a disturbingly vivid memory of how it had felt to be in his arms flashed through her mind. Dear Lord, she should have slapped him sooner instead of clinging to him like ivy! She had not behaved at all like the prim, ladylike Kathryn Travers who had inherited a double share of propriety. But she had felt so good, so blessedly safe, that she had been temporarily paralyzed. The Travers part of her was shameless.

She found herself rubbing the itchy spot inside her thigh, and instantly dropped her hand. Thank heaven he hadn't seen the tattoo. If he had, she would really be in trouble.