“Good,” Kate says. “Is she Welsh? Jones is usually a Welsh name.”
“I’m not sure I can do a Welsh accent.”
“Can you do any kind of accent?” Kate asks, lifting her brow. “It isn’t vital, but it could help with disguising your voice.”
“My father was Scottish. He was born in Lanarkshire. My sister and I used to imitate his speech.”
“Was.” “Used to.” So much of my life now exists in the past tense. I swallow hard and look away.
“Your eyes are shining, Lillian. You look like you’re about to cry. What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” I blink rapidly, avoiding her gaze. “I’m fine.”
“But you aren’t. Every emotion you’re feeling dances across your face. Your eyes are beautiful. But they’re your biggest tell. You must learn to master yourself.” Her fingers grip my jaw, turning my head. “Look at me. Watch me. Very closely.”
I meet her gaze, my breath hitching at the sudden coldness in her eyes. In an instant, all her sly wit, her warmth, everything that makes her Kate vanishes. “What do you think I’m thinking about?” she asks, her voice as frigid as her looks. Low and menacing, and distinctly male.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
She traces one fingertip down my throat and rests it in the hollow between my clavicles. I shiver at her touch, desire and unease tangling together in a confusing knot. “I’m thinking ... how much I’d like to ravish you.”
Even though Kate ravishing me was all I could think about last night, a visceral fear crawls over my skin, because this person standing in front of me right now is decidedly not Kate. Nor Varina. Or even Alex. I think she’s acting. Merely trying to prove her point—to demonstrate her talent for becoming someone else in an instant. Still, I take two steps back. She smiles at me, but with no kindness. “You’re all alone with me, Mary Jones. My helpless plaything to toy with, for as long as I like.”
She stalks toward me, each footstep a staccato beat, her lovely features wolfish and sardonic, as if some dark spirit has overtaken her body.
“No one knows you’re here,” she says, backing me against the wall. “You can scream all you like, but no one will hear you. And once I’m finished with you ...”
“Stop,” I say, panting. “Please. You’re frightening me.”
In an instant, Kate returns, shedding the wicked persona like a coat falling to the floor. She steps back and I release my breath. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d know it was just an act.”
“I ... I did,” I stammer. “It’s just that you were so convincing.”
She smiles sheepishly. “I know. I’m good, aren’t I?”
I laugh, nervously, my face aflame. “Very.”
“You must know I would never hurt you.” She reaches for my hand, and I pull away.
“I certainly hope not.”
“I won’t let Winthrop inhabit me again in your presence,” she says. “He’ll be relegated to the stage, where he belongs, tying helpless maidens to railroad tracks.”
“Inhabit.” The word sends a chill through me. Though her promise is meant to comfort, the tenuous trust between us has narrowed. She’s frightened me. Badly. I hardly know anything about her. I’ve been too afraid of seeming rude by asking her too many questions, but even though I owe her a debt of gratitude for saving my life, and for her hospitality, if I’m to stay here, I need to know more about her. “Where did you learn to do that?” I ask, sheepish. “Become someone else?”
“I’ve been practicing for most of my life, Lillian.”
“Even before you met Lucrezia, then?”
Kate’s head tilts. She regards me calmly, but there’s a wariness behind her eyes. “Yes. Lucrezia helped me hone my talents. But they’ve always been there. I grew up in poverty. I spent my earliest years in a workhouse, with my mother. My imagination saved me back then, I think. Pretending to be someone else was a fun game, but it also got me out of a few scrapes.”
That explains why she scoffed when I told her our maid used to gather our eggs. She’s had a difficult life compared to mine, at least in her younger years. My sympathy rises, imagining Kate as a child in some dingy, lightless workhouse.
“Has anyone ever figured out that you aren’t who you claim to be? Do Ruby and Noah know you aren’t really Alexander Mayhew?”
“No. You are the only one I’ve ever revealed my true self to, Lillian, apart from Lucrezia.”
I find it astounding, her ability to shift personas so completely and convincingly. And I’m surprised that she trusts me enough to discloseher biggest secret. Even though she is in the position of power here, it’s still risky.
