Imposter Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

possible, while her ears felt as if they grew
larger and larger, the harder she strained to hear what was going
on outside.
    Muffled footsteps ran past on the street side of the
coach. She heard a boy yell, and then the constable shouting out
for them to look harder. Sophie held her breath, praying her
pounding heart couldn’t be heard over the noise in the street.
    Suddenly the door of the coach opened.
    Sophie’s heart jumped into her throat, choking her.
She would be found out in a matter of moments. What then?
    “Damnation!” she heard a male voice growl. The word
was laced with a foreign accent, surely American, but with some
other influence as well. And oddly enough, the deep voice sounded
familiar.
    “Captain Ramsay!” another voice called as someone
else hurried toward the coach.
    “Charles! I told you—”
    “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain, but it was miserable
cold out here, and I—”
    “Never mind. Take me to the club. I’m late.”
    “Of course, sir. Right away, sir.”
    The carriage shuddered as the driver climbed aboard
and the captain—surely the same man who had visited Katherine
earlier that day—entered the cab and shut the door behind him. She
heard him sit down and sigh. Not a moment more passed before she
felt a slight nudge of his boot on her flank. Then to her dismay,
she saw the corner of the lap robe lift.
    “What have we here?” The man leaned closer for a
better look in the dim light of the coach.
    She twisted to glance at his face, and caught a
glimpse of his unpowdered hair, black as coal, a pair of swooping
black brows, and sharp dark eyes beneath the shadow of his tricorne
hat. A serious face. But not a cruel countenance.
    “Please, sir,” she whispered. “Do not betray
me.”
    Before he could respond, she heard more hurried
steps approaching the vehicle and tugged the lap robe back
down.
    “You there!” the constable called. “Driver!”
Keener’s boots crunched the snow as he strode to the coach. “Have
you seen a young woman run by here?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Brown hair,” Keener continued, “not much over five
feet tall? Wearing a blue dress?”
    “No sir. But my master, Captain Ramsay, might have
seen something.”
    Sophie heard the captain sigh again, seemingly put
off by the mention of his name.
    The constable rapped curtly on the door of the
coach. Ramsay leaned forward and opened it slightly.
    “Yes?”
    “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Constable Keener.”
    “What can I do for you?”
    “I’m looking for a girl, a young woman. She ran into
the square some moments ago.”
    “And?”
    “I was hoping you’d seen her. She’s very
dangerous.”
    “Oh?”
    “She killed a man. In cold blood, sir. And now she’s
run off.”
    “What does she look like?”
    “Middling height. Brown hair. Nineteen years old I’m
told. Has a long knife wound on her right forearm. Cuts a slight
figure.” The constable paused and sniffed, “A nasty-tempered
maidservant. Goes by the name of Sophie Vernet.”
    “Hmm.” The captain mused. “Sorry, but I’ve seen no
one fitting that description.”
    “She couldn’t have got far.”
    “She probably ran into that victualing house.” The
captain’s voice trailed off as he likely pointed out the place to
the constable. “I’d look there.”
    “Perhaps.” The constable fell silent and for a
moment Sophie imagined that he was craning his neck to inspect the
interior of the coach where she crouched like an animal. Had he
been alone, he probably would have prodded her with the long
metal-tipped staff he carried.
    “If you don’t mind, constable,” Ramsay remarked with
obvious impatience, “I am late for an appointment.”
    “Certainly. Thank you for your time, Captain.”
    “Not at all. Good day.”
    Ramsay closed the door and sank back. Sophie didn’t
move, and waited silently while he tapped the ceiling to signal
Charles to drive on. The coach rumbled down the street, taking her
safely away from her nemesis, but