"You forget-despite the years we spent 'rollin' about the fields,' Rupert has barely seen me for over a decade. Just the odd meeting here and there."
"He didn't recognize your voice?"
"No. My tone was quite different." She'd spoken as she would to Augusta, her tone warm and low, not tart and waspish as when she normally spoke with him. Except for those few breathless moments… but she didn't think he'd ever heard her breathless before. She couldn't recall ever feeling so nervous and skittish before. With a sigh, she let her head tip back as her hair finally fell loose. "You're not giving me sufficient credit. I'm a very good actress, after all."
Nellie humphed but didn't argue. She started to brush Alathea's long hair.
Closing her eyes, Alathea relaxed. She excelled at charades; she could think herself into a part very well, as long as she understood the character. In this case, that was easy. "I kept to the truth as far as possible-he truly thinks I'm a countess."
Nellie humphed. "I still can't see why you couldn't simply write him a nice letter, asking him to look into this company for you."
"Because I would have had to sign it 'Alathea Morwellan.'"
"He would have done it, I'm sure."
"Oh, he wouldn't have refused, but what he would have done was refer it to his agent-that Mr. Montague. Without telling Rupert why it's so desperately needful to prove this company a fraud, it wouldn't have seemed important-important enough to stir him personally to action."
"I can't see why you don't just tell him-"
"No!" Eyes opening, Alathea straightened. For an instant, the lines between mistress and maid were clear-there in the matriarchal light in Alathea's eyes, in her stern expression, and in the suddenly wary look in Nellie's face.
Alathea let her expression ease; she hesitated, but Nellie was the only one with whom she dared discuss her plans, the only one who knew them all. The only one she trusted with them all. While she suspected that meant she was trusting the entire little band downstairs, as the others never presumed to mention it, she could live with that. She had to talk to someone. Drawing in a breath, she settled on the stool. "Believe it or not, Nellie, I still have my pride." She shut her eyes as Nellie resumed her brushing. "Sometimes, I think it's all I truly have left. I won't risk it by telling even him all. No one knows just how close to ruin we came-what depth of ruin we now face."
"He'd be sympathetic, I should think. He wouldn't noise it abroad."
"That's not the point. Not with him. I don't think you can imagine, Nellie, just how rich the Cynsters are. Even I have trouble assimilating the sums I know he regularly deals with."
"Can't see why it matters, meself."
Alathea felt the familiar tugs as Nellie started braiding her hair. "Let's just say that while I can cope with fraudulent companies and imminent disaster, the one thing I really don't think I could face is pity."
His pity.
Nellie sighed. "Ah, well, if that's the way it must be…" Alathea sensed her fatalistic shrug. After a moment, Nellie asked, "But how'd you get him to agree to help if'n you didn't tell him about the family all but being rolled up if that wretched company asks for their money?"
"That-Alathea opened her eyes-"was the main point of my masquerade. I did tell him. All of it. I could hardly expect him to help without knowing the details, and he certainly wouldn't have helped if there hadn't been a real family and a real threat. He's never been easy to stir to action, but he is a Cynster and they always respond to certain prods. He had to be convinced of both the family and the threat, but the way I told it, it's the countess's family. I cast my father as my dead husband, with me as the countess, his second wife, and all the children as my stepchildren, instead of my stepbrothers and stepsisters. Serena I made into a cousin."
She paused, remembering.
"What happened?"
Alathea looked up to see Nellie regarding her in concern.
"It's no use telling me something didn't go wrong-I can always tell when you look like that."
"Nothing went wrong." She wasn't about to tell Nellie about that kiss. "I just hadn't thought of names for all the children. I used Charles for Charlie-it's a common enough name after all-but I hadn't expected Rupert to ask me about the others. When he did… well, I was so deep in being the countess, I couldn't really think. I called them to mind and had to put names to them instantly or he would have grown suspicious."
Dropping her completed braid, Nellie stared at her. "You didn't go and call them by their real names?"
Rising, Alathea stepped away from the table. "Not exactly."
Nellie started unlacing her gown. "So what did you call them?"
"Maria, Alicia, and Seraphina. I skipped the others."
"So what happens the first time he finds himself in a room with one of those books that list the lot of you? All he'll have to do will be to look up the earls-you being a countess-and it'll jump off the page at him. And he'll know who you are then, too." Straightening, Nellie helped her out of her gown. "Wouldn't want to be in your shoes then, miss-not when he finds out. He won't be pleased."
"I know." Alathea shivered, and prayed Nellie thought it was because she was cold. She knew exactly what would happen if luck dealt against her and Rupert Melrose Cynster discovered she was his mysterious countess-that she was the woman he'd kissed in the porch of St. Georges.
All hell would break lose.
He didn't have a temper, any more than she did.
Which meant he didn't appear to have one, until he lost it.
"That's why," she continued, head emerging from the nightgown Nellie had thrown over her, "I made him swear not to try and identify me. The way I have it planned, he need never learn the truth."
She knew he wouldn't appreciate having the wool pulled over his eyes. He had a deep, very real dislike of any form of deception. That, she suspected, was what lay behind his growing reputation for unmasking business frauds. "For now, everything's perfect-he's met the countess, heard her story, and agreed to help. He actually wants to help-wants to expose these men and their company. That's important." Whether she was reassuring Nellie or herself she wasn't sure; her stomach hadn't relaxed since he'd kissed her. "Lady Celia's forever complaining about him being too indolent, too bored with life. The countess's problem will give him something to work on, something that interests him."
Nellie snorted. "Next you'll be saying being gulled will be good for him."
Alathea had the grace to blush. "It won't hurt him. And I'll be careful, so there's no reason to think he ever will know that he's been 'gulled,' as you put it. I'll make sure he never meets the countess in daylight, or in any decent illumination. I'll always wear a veil. With heels to make me even taller"-she gestured to the high-heeled shoes she'd discarded by the dressing table-"and that perfume"-another wave indicated the Venetian glass flacon standing before her mirror-"which is nothing like anything Alathea Morwellan has ever worn, I really do not see that there's any danger of him knowing me."
Alathea glided to the bed; Nellie bustled ahead, turning down the covers and removing the copper warming pan. Slipping between the sheets, Alathea sighed. "So all is well. And when the company's exposed and her family saved, the countess will simply"-she waved gracefully-"disappear in a drift of mist."
Nellie humphed. She shuffled about, tidying things away, hanging up Alathea's clothes. From the wardrobe, she looked back at Alathea. "I still don't see why you couldn't simply go and see him, and tell him to his face what this is all about. Pride's all very well, but this is serious."
"It's not only pride." Lying back, Alathea gazed at the canopy. "I didn't ask him to his face because he very likely would not have helped me, not personally. He'd have directed me to Montague as fast as he politely could, and that simply won't do. I-we-need his help, not the assistance of his henchman. I need the knight on his charger, not his squire."