Read Online Imposter Bride by Patricia Simpson - Free Book Online Page A

all he
allowed.
    Briskly he walked back to the door, where he turned
slightly. “I must travel out of town today. Mrs. Betrus will see to
your needs. Do not hesitate to ask for anything.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I’ll have my man Puckett find out what happened to
your governess and servant, too, and fetch them here as well.”
    “Thank you. I pray they both survived the fire.”
Sophie paused, thinking of her cruel mistress and her governess.
What had they gone through last night? Were they alive? Had they
been injured and were lying in hospital? Had they perished in the
flames? Though the women had treated her unkindly, she would never
have wished such an end for them. Yet she had to smile sadly at the
irony of her own thoughts, for she suspected that neither Katherine
nor Agnes would have cared whether she had lived or died in the
fire.
    She looked up to find Ramsay gazing at her over his
shoulder, and she felt the same strong tug from within, urging her
to go to him. Sophie stood in the center of the room, tongue-tied
by the unfamiliar sensations this man produced in her.
    Then he turned and pulled the door shut.
     
    Sophie should have left the townhouse that day,
before the master of the house returned from his trip. She would
have left, too, but once she’d eaten and bathed, she fell
asleep—exhausted by her difficult time in London in the freezing
weather—and slept the entire day. When she woke for the second time
in the little bedroom on the second level, she was alarmed to find
darkness had already fallen outside, as well as a great deal of
snow.
    Quietly, Sophie dressed in fresh underclothes, hose,
and a sack dress the housekeeper had procured for her and left
draped over the wing back chair. Fortunately, the loose-fitting
style of the garment allowed for a variance in feminine shape, and
its jonquil-colored folds slipped easily over her shoulders and
barely touched the floor. Sophie found the necessary contorted
combinations to fasten the bodice tight enough to suit.
    On the seat of the chair were the linen pockets she
had worn under her blue dress. Sophie picked them up, gratified to
feel the weight in the left one. She checked to make sure the
breeches buckle was still there, and then tied the pockets at her
waist under the voluminous silk of her dress. At least the servants
of the household had been honest enough not to steal the diamond
buckle while she slept.
    On the floor near the legs of the chair were her
well worn slippers, which were now torn and soiled and still a bit
damp, but they would have to serve until she could find another
pair. She pushed her feet into them.
    Hoping the captain was still gone for the day,
Sophie let herself out of the bedchamber and tip-toed down the
hall, pausing at the top of the stairs to listen for any evidence
of human activity. She heard nothing but a distant rattle of pans
in the kitchen on the lower level of the townhouse. Carefully, she
made her way down the stairs, her heart pounding for fear of
discovery. Just as she gained the last step, she heard someone slam
the knocker against the plate at the front door. Startled by the
harsh sound, Sophie darted to the first room on her left and hid
behind the door.
    “Just a moment!” Mrs. Betrus called.
    Sophie could hear the housekeeper hobbling down the
hall toward the front door. The knocker clanged again, even louder
the second time.
    “Lord!” Mrs. Betrus muttered as she walked past
Sophie’s hiding place. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”
    Sophie peered through the crack between the edge of
the door and the woodwork and saw the housekeeper open the front
door of the townhouse. Wind from the street rustled the black wool
of her skirt around the housekeeper’s sturdy shoes.
    “Yes?” Mrs. Betrus kept one hand on the latch as a
dark shape stepped into the glow from the candles in the hall.
    “Constable Keener, madam. Good evening.”
    Sophie’s blood froze in her veins. Had he discovered
her hiding