Dear Impostor Read Online Free Page B

"Ah, yes." The lawyer
flipped to the page she'd mentioned. "Your father wished to be sure you
had ample means to buy your bride clothes and prepare for the nuptials to
follow, being familiar with his brother's parsimonious–that is–his brother
Wilfred's penchant for economy, and–"
              "Yes, but now, go to page
eight. My uncle has the right to prevent an unsuitable marriage, but it doesn't
say he has the right to forbid an engagement!" Psyche took a deep breath. It
had occurred to her last night–a plan brilliant in its simplicity–as she'd
tossed and turned, disturbed by Percy's increasing audacity.
              The solicitor adjusted his glasses
and reread the ponderous phrases of the document. "Perhaps you could
interpret it like that, but–"
              "I don't have to interpret
it; that's what it says!" Psyche argued, pressing her hands together in
nervous appeal.
              "Even so, what good would it
do to be engaged, dear child, if you could never marry?"
              "I would have control of half
of my funds!" she exclaimed, impatient with his slowness. "That's
much, much more than Uncle Wilfred allows me now. I could hire proper art
instructors for Circe; we could travel. I could do all the things that my uncle
will not allow me money for!"
              Freedom, she'd thought, closing
her eyes for a moment as the solicitor pondered. It meant freedom from her
cousin's close pursuit, freedom from her uncle's dictates.
              "But it's pointless. No
suitor would agree to such an arrangement, Psyche," the lawyer had pointed
out, "an engagement without a marriage to follow."
              "Oh, I think I know one who
would," Psyche argued, knowing that her blue eyes were alight with
mischief.
              Mr. Watkins stared at her, his own
eyes narrowing behind the spectacles. But after a short silence, he said only,
"Take care, my dear girl."
              Psyche had ridden home light with
happiness. At last, she had found a way out of her legal cage. Her impromptu
declaration to Percy would set her free. She would be engaged forever to this
mysterious marquis who had sprang out of her imagination, and no one would be
able to tell her, or Circe, what to do.
              It was brilliant . . .
              Except that when Percy had shared
her news, her uncle demanded to meet the man who had inspired this sudden,
secret engagement. And that had seemed to doom her plan until she thought of
hiring someone to play the part. All she needed was a fiancé of respectable
appearance for one evening, then the mysterious marquis could disappear across
the Channel again, and she would have access to her own money, for good and
pressing reasons . . .
              It would all be worth the
sleepless nights she had spent as she contemplated the details of her scheme. She'd
sent her maid to the theater to find a suitable candidate to act the part,
promising him the best part of her quarterly allowance. And Simpson had
reported success.
              True, Psyche had never expected
her unseen employee to look nor act quite like this tall, well-formed man with
a face of such startling good looks. And if he acted this well, she could not
imagine why he was not more successful–why, tonight she would have been willing
to swear that he was a gentleman, indeed. But little matter, it had worked, her
design had worked!
              As Psyche applauded herself on the
unlikely success of the most mad-capped plot that she had ever envisioned, it
occurred to her that this was more unconventional than anything her parents had
done. The thought did not please her; she was in all things unlike her
eccentric parents, she told herself quickly. Then her private musings, smug
with self-congratulation, came to a sudden halt.
              One of her mother's brothers was
inviting her hired finance to a party in two weeks.