Chapter Seventeen

13 YEARS AGO
LONDON
1803

She could feel her heart pounding in her head. Thrum, thrum, thrum. A constant steady barrage of spears to the middle of her brain that couldn’t be stopped unless she died.

Right at that moment, she thought that could perhaps be a blessing.

Katherine FitzGilbert held herself as still as possible, hoping against hope that not moving would be enough to stave off the next coughing fit. Because if her heartbeat were a spear, each cough was a bullet to the head. And if the pain weren’t bad enough, the few thoughts that managed to make it through her tormented brain only inspired a groan of agony.

Which made her head hurt more in a vicious and unfair cycle.

She closed her eyes, did her best to relax into the feather pillow, and tried not to think of Maxwell Oswald.

Which meant she could think of absolutely nothing except Maxwell Oswald.

Maxwell Oswald who made all the ladies swoon. Well, perhaps not all the ladies, but all of the ladies of Katherine’s station. For daughters hovering at the bottom of the aristocracy, the first son of a second son of a marquis was a catch worth setting her cap for.

Blood rushed through her head, and Katherine forced herself not to sigh, groan, or make any other noise as she wallowed in her self-pity. Would it be so bad to stop her heart just for a moment or two? Just for a second’s respite? Laudanum hadn’t managed to alleviate the pain, but it had made her mind a bit more muddled.

Which helped her avoid picturing the disaster that was going to happen a few streets away when she didn’t show up to the masquerade ball.

Maxwell expected her to be there. He’d been smiling at her for months. He’d been smiling at a lot of other young women, too, but the past few weeks, Katherine had been special. He’d made a point of seeking her out for the first dances, fetching her glasses of punch or lemonade, meeting her gaze in a crowd. It was obvious he’d decided she was more worthy than the other young women fighting for his attention.

It had made Miss Charlotte Rhinehold particularly upset. The rumor was that she’d turned down a proposal from a country squire because she believed Maxwell would offer for her.

But Maxwell hadn’t.

But then yesterday he had told Katherine that he had something very important to talk to her about tonight, something he wanted to ask her.

She’d been so happy about the prospect of his attentions at the coming masquerade ball that she’d sat up half the night in her small window seat, window thrown open so she could breathe the night air and listen to the sounds of London.

The night air, which had seemed so refreshing at the time, had attacked her lungs, leaving them pained, thick, and coughing.

There wasn’t a chance she could make it to the masquerade ball tonight. Not a chance. She couldn’t even make it across the room.

A light tap on her door pricked her head with so many needles she thought she might become ill. That would involve moving her head, though, so she gritted her teeth and breathed in through her nose.

The door slid open, and Katherine’s dearest friend in the world walked in.

“How are you feeling?” Miss Daphne Blakemoor asked, crossing the room to smile down at Katherine. Her bright green silk gown was covered by a gauzy overdress, and she carried a feathered mask in her hand. “You look a bit peaked.”

“I’m sick as a horse,” Katherine groaned.

Another cough racked her body, seizing her middle until it nearly forced her to sit up in the bed. With a groan, she flopped back onto the pillow, her head lolling to the side. The elaborate Catherine the Great costume that she’d been so proud of hung outside her wardrobe, glittering blue skirts trailing to the floor, with its lowered waistline and jeweled sash lending it a distinct look. The coifed wig and feathered mask sat on the table beside the wardrobe. Everyone had been in awe when she’d tried it on in the dress shop. Her costume had been the talk of her friends for weeks. Everyone knew she was going as Catherine the Great.

Even Maxwell Oswald.

Who’d told her that he couldn’t wait to come and find her.

Who’d mentioned that he particularly wanted to see her tonight, that he’d been waiting for just the right moment to ask her something.

And she wasn’t going to be there.

Another whimpering groan escaped her.

“Well,” Daphne said in as decisive a tone as her soft voice ever managed, “if you aren’t going to the ball tonight, I won’t either. It’s not like my costume was anything much to speak of anyway. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be. No one will know if I’m not there.”

“Of course they will.” Katherine would have winced if it wouldn’t have hurt her head more. She’d said the sentence automatically out of loyalty, and both of them knew it. The only person who would miss Daphne was Katherine, and she was stuck in bed.

“They won’t,” Daphne said with a dismissive shrug. “I’ve never once had anyone ask me if I’m coming to an event or seek me out as soon as I walk in, unless it’s to ask me if I know where you are.” She plucked at the bed coverings.

The idea that bounced around Katherine’s head was wrong. It had to be. At the very least it was dishonest. But it would be just for one night. And if she didn’t show up . . .

If she didn’t show up, Miss Rhinehold might convince Maxwell that she was the special one, that she deserved his attentions. A few weeks ago, he’d seemed quite taken with her, so would it really take that much effort for her to win his regard again? Especially if Katherine wasn’t there?

But what if she could keep that from happening and give Daphne a bit of a fairy-tale evening at the same time?

It wasn’t as if he would ask her to marry him in the middle of the ball. Whatever he wanted to talk to her about was something Daphne could handle. Daphne was sure to tell Katherine everything anyway.

“Would you like to know what it’s like?” Katherine croaked.

Daphne’s head came up, brown eyebrows drawn tight enough to scrunch up her round face. “What do you mean?”

Katherine pointed toward the graceful costume. “Be me.”

The gasp that escaped Daphne’s mouth sucked enough air from the room to start Katherine coughing again. “I couldn’t!”

“Why not?” Katherine asked, pleased with herself. This was the perfect solution. It almost made being sick worth it. “Who knows? You might discover a side of yourself that you didn’t know before. One that will help you get off the wall and show London how wonderful you are.”

Katherine loved her friend dearly, but Daphne was horribly quiet and shy, two characteristics that didn’t draw the attention of many men. Or the women either. Daphne was utterly forgettable as far as their social circle was concerned.

“I’d still be me even if I wore your costume, Katherine,” Daphne said with a shake of her head.

“That dress is fabulous.” Katherine slid her eyes closed because just looking at the dress pained her more. It was so out of fashion, it wasn’t as if she’d get another chance to wear it. And she’d spent so much time on it. “Anyone wearing such a dress will be the center of attention.”

“I don’t really want to be the center of attention,” Daphne said softly.

A bit of panic crept into Katherine’s veins, and her pounding heart made her head hurt more and sent her into another fit of coughs. If Daphne didn’t go, if she didn’t pretend to be Katherine, well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Katherine simply had to know what Maxwell Oswald wanted to tell her, and she simply had to keep him from going back to Miss Rhinehold.

If it was anyone else, she might not have minded so much—there were other men in London, after all—but Katherine harbored a severe dislike of Miss Rhinehold. She was fairly certain the feeling was mutual, given the way she’d deliberately stepped on the hem of Katherine’s dress three weeks ago. Katherine had responded by tripping and spilling an entire glass of punch down the front of Miss Rhinehold’s dress. Right before she was supposed to stand up with Maxwell.

There was no question about it. If Katherine wasn’t there tonight, Miss Rhinehold would do something to convince Maxwell to throw Katherine over.

“You could be me,” Katherine said. “For just one night, you could be me.”

Daphne bit her lip but slowly crossed the floor to run a hand over the skirt. It was finer than anything Daphne had, which made Katherine feel a little bit guilty. With a look from Katherine’s gown to the spring-green ball gown that served as the base for her own costume, a peculiar light shone in Daphne’s eyes.

“Do you really think I’d like being you?”

Katherine rather liked being herself, so why wouldn’t Daphne? Besides, if Maxwell Oswald was going to bestow his attentions on a girl besides Katherine, she’d rather it be Daphne any day. How long would it be before Maxwell Oswald regained the courage to ask whatever he intended to ask her tonight? “There’s only one way to find out.”

A glimmer of excitement danced across Daphne’s face along with her usual caution and trepidation, but she rang the bell for Katherine’s maid.

The dress fit her perfectly, except for the height. It was a little long but not enough for anyone to notice. By the time the wig and feathered mask were in place, it was hard to tell it wasn’t Katherine. The face was a different shape, but it was bordered by feathers, so no one was likely to notice.

“You’re beautiful,” Katherine said.

“I’m going to be you tonight,” Daphne said with more conviction than her voice had possessed since coming to London for their Season. “Tonight I’m going to dance and have fun and not stand against the wall. I’m going to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Good for you,” Katherine said. She coughed again. “Now get out of here before I make you sick and you end up in this bed right next to me.”

After Daphne left, Katherine took another dose of laudanum and managed to find sleep.

Many hours later, when the sun was creeping in her windows, her father barged into her room, slamming the door against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he ranted. “Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?”

Katherine blinked and raised a hand to her pounding head. What was her father talking about? What could she possibly have done now? She hadn’t moved from this bed.

“Did you think no one would see you?” He started pacing. “There was a window right there! Right beside you! Lady Beatrice had the perfect view from the garden below.”

Despite the shooting pain it caused, Katherine pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to wake up, trying to understand, trying simply to think something other than what.

“It’s all anyone can talk about. You’re ruined. Completely. No one will have you now, no one. I should have known you’d mess this up, that you couldn’t actually do something right and helpful for once.”

As he circled the room, sleep finally fell away from Kit’s brain and she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Something must have happened at the ball last night. Something horrible. Was Daphne safe? Had she been hurt? She couldn’t ask, because everyone, her father included, obviously thought it had been her at the party last night. Telling him it had been Daphne would only make the situation worse. But how had he not known she was sick?

“You’re not to leave this house,” he grumbled, pointing one long finger in her direction. “No visitors. We’ll pretend you don’t exist until everyone stops talking about it.”

Pretend she didn’t exist? Guilt ate at her. What could possibly have happened to Daphne? Whatever it was, Katherine had sent her into it, all in the name of keeping her hold on Maxwell Oswald.

It was fairly safe to assume she’d lost her position of esteem in his eyes, though she’d never been entirely sure how she’d gained it anyway.

More importantly, she had to find a way to talk to Daphne.

Her father stormed out of the room, muttering about business contacts and political alliances and reputations. Katherine pushed the covers aside and eased her feet over the edge of the bed. She managed to stand but then collapsed into a pile of rasping coughs.

She wasn’t going to be able to leave. She could only hope Daphne was able to visit, and soon.

And she did. Daphne did come, but she was a pale version of herself, even quieter than she normally was. And her tale of woe buried Katherine until she couldn’t breathe.

Because Daphne had danced, she’d tried to be Katherine, and when Maxwell Oswald had taken her into a little alcove off the ballroom and kissed her—kissed her!—she’d been swept away, glorying in what it was like to have someone actually care whether you were there or not, to have someone say she was special, important.

Beautiful.

By the time Daphne’s mind had dug its way out of the swirl of fantasy, by the time she’d realized that she shouldn’t have left the ballroom with him after the kiss, it had been too late. She’d been ruined. And so was Katherine.

Katherine didn’t know what to do. She stayed in bed, even after the illness receded. Daphne regained her composure and seemed her old self again within days, though she stayed in Katherine’s room most of the time, refusing to go out without Katherine.

Maxwell Oswald announced his engagement to Miss Charlotte Rhinehold. Charlotte made a point of finding Katherine after church, whispering that it was a shame Katherine hadn’t realized before that there were women who married and women who dallied. She’d made a bet with Maxwell about which one Katherine was. The way she’d run her finger around her new diamond bracelet left little question of who the victor had been in that little game.

Because it certainly hadn’t been Katherine.

The life she’d always dreamed of was crumbling. She didn’t see how it could possibly get worse.

Until the day Daphne arrived in her room, pale and shaking, with the news that they weren’t going to be able to hide the fact that Daphne had been ruined.

Their fathers had been livid, had threatened to disown them, cast them out. It was the only way to salvage the family name. But Katherine wasn’t going to let Daphne suffer for this, not when it had been Katherine’s pride, Katherine’s greed, Katherine’s ambition that had sent her into a situation she didn’t know how to cope with.

Katherine had seen her father do business for years, and she put those skills to work. She negotiated a deal. Their dowries in exchange for their disappearance. They’d leave. Never come back. London could pretend they’d never existed.

Katherine had taken the money, taken Daphne, and packed up as much as they could carry. Then they’d shaken the dust of London from their slippers and headed west.

The realization had come too late, but now Kit knew that no matter what she’d done, no matter who she would have married, she wouldn’t have won her father’s love and approval, because he wanted more. And so had she. If she’d only been satisfied to stay within the social sphere she’d been born to, none of this would have happened.

Their life in London, the futures they’d dreamed of, were gone forever, but Katherine was determined that Daphne not suffer for it. She would make a life for Daphne if it was the last thing she did.