Free The Counterfeit Lady by Kate Parker Page A

full head of dark hair heavily mixed with gray, although he’s only in his early forties. He knows how to attract the attention of women, but he doesn’t have any long-standing relationships, if you get my drift.”
    He meant lovers or mistresses. That helped if I were to attract his attention and find out his connection to the Germans. I gave Phyllida a smile and said, “We’d better not take anything at face value with these people. Espionage isn’t the usual line of work for the Archivist Society.”
    Phyllida took my hand. “I hope they take us at face value, Georgina. Otherwise, everything we’ve done is for naught, and poor Kenny will hang.”
    *   *   *
    KNOWING I NEEDED to make a good impression on everyone at Lord Francis’s that night while flirting with the duke, Emma set to work to make me look attractive.
    Emma was breathtakingly beautiful. She should have been playing this role, but I would have been jealous knowing she was flirting with the duke.
    Someday Blackford would have to marry to provide an heir and I’d envy the woman. In the meantime, I was determined to play my role to perfection. I wanted him to love me. Or at least admire me.
    “I think—hold still—just one more pin. No, we need another one here. This would be easier, Georgia, if your hair wasn’t so thick,” Emma mumbled around a hairpin.
    “Georgina,” I muttered back.
    “Yes. Georgina. Or rather, ma’am. There. That’s got it. Now for some jewels. Something understated, I think.”
    “I don’t have anything understated.”
    Emma was looking through the jewel box we’d been lent for my role, ignoring me. There was a knock on the door before Phyllida came in and joined her. I sat at my dressing table, looking in the mirror at their reflections as they looked at various pieces, looked at me, and shook their heads.
    “It can’t be that bad,” I finally told them.
    “You have to look like you belong there, but not fade into just another society matron. We want all the old cats to see more in the duke’s interest in you than simply a matter of a former acquaintance.” Phyllida came up behind me and lifted my chin. Then she forced my shoulders back. “You must move like a lady.”
    Hard to do when I was accustomed to moving stacks of books around. “I’m not supposed to know the duke will be there.”
    “All the more reason for you to look your best. You’re stepping out in London society for the first time, and you know you’ll be judged by everyone there. You’ve lived in the colonies for years. Now you’re in a foreign land among strangers and you want to make friends. If you want to get more invitations, you need to look like one of them, but a little bit more. Not too much more. Understand?” Phyllida pulled a pair of diamond earrings from the jewelry box. “These will do.”
    Emma hooked the long strands of tiny diamonds in my ears. “They emphasize your long neck.”
    They did. They also must have cost a fortune. I was immediately worried about losing one.
    “A necklace, do you think?” Emma asked.
    “No. She’s a widow. She doesn’t want to look like she’s advertising for another husband. That would set everyone against her. She’s trying to fit in. I think she’s perfect the way she is.” Phyllida smiled at my reflection in the mirror.
    I rose from my chair and slowly twirled for their inspection.
    “Perfect. The lilac in the dress brings out the color of your eyes,” Phyllida said.
    “I think you’re ready, ma’am,” Emma said.
    I thought I was, too, until we set foot inside Lord Francis’s stately London home. In our furnished rental, we could seat twelve for dinner and perhaps as many in the parlor if we squeezed them in, and I was amazed at all the space and servants we had.
    When we reached his lordship’s first-floor parlor—really two rooms opened into each other and reaching the entire depth of the house—there was seating for at least fifty plus a piano and space for the