you were the man capable of pulling it off. Once you manage to convince Carolyn, the others should be a relatively simple matter if you watch your step."
Alexander surveyed him out of half-closed eyes. He had no illusions about his coconspirator. Of all the celebrated MacDowells , Warren had the strongest sense of self-interest, coupled with a useful lack of morality. When he'd first come up with the crazy idea of passing himself off as the missing heir, Warren had been the obvious choice for a partner in crime.
He'd considered other possibilities before approaching Warren , discarding them quickly. Constanza and Ruben were too loyal, Patsy too caught up in her endless quest for pleasure to make an effort to ensure she could continue to pay for it.
And Carolyn Smith. She would have been his first choice. After years on her own she was living with Sally MacDowell , taking care of her during her final illness. She knew more about the MacDowell family than anyone else—with her help no one would dare stand up to him.
But some sixth sense had sent him in Warren 's direction instead, and now he basked in his customary good luck. Carolyn would never have tolerated such deceit—she was obviously cursed with a strong sense of morality.
"You think Sally has any doubts?" Warren asked after a moment.
"Not a one. She needs to believe in me. She's dying, and she doesn't want to leave this life without finding her son again."
"Just make sure she doesn't start agreeing to things like DNA tests and the like. There's a limit to what we can do, who I can bribe."
"Don't worry, she won't," Alex said with calm assurance.
Warren stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, satisfied. "I won't deny it's gone extremely well so far. The next few days will be the test."
"The next few days will be simple," Alex murmured. "If you do your part."
"I'm the one with the most to lose," Warren said huffily.
"I doubt it. If I get unmasked you'll just insist you were taken in like everyone else. I'm willing to bet there isn't a shred of proof tying us together. Is there?"
"You think I don't trust you?"
"I think you don't trust anyone. Neither do I ." Alex sat up, turning to look at him. "Don't worry about it, Warren . I'm not going to get caught. If I am, cover your ass and don't worry about me. I'm very good at getting out of tight places."
"I'm supposed to believe you won't betray me?"
"If you don't believe that, why did you get involved in this?" Alex countered smoothly.
"Because you look eerily like him," Warren said after a moment.
"And because I showed up on your doorstep and offered you a chance to get your hands on all that lovely money," Alex said bluntly. "Don't forget that."
"My sister's dying," Warren said. "She'll die happy if she thinks her son is back—"
"You don't give a shit whether your sister dies happy or not. You only care that she dies with her estate settled, not tied up for years proving that the real Alexander MacDowell is dead."
"What if he's not?" Warren said suddenly. "What if the real one does suddenly appear?"
"He's dead, Warren ," Alex said in a low, cool voice. "Trust me, he's not coming back."
Carolyn had probably had to suffer through worse dinner parties in her life, but at the moment she was too miserable to remember them. A table had been set up in front of the bay window in Sally's room, and Sally even managed to sit in her wheelchair, the bright color of happiness in her pale cheeks. Alex sat beside her, attentive, charming, and Warren was surprisingly expansive. Carolyn sat across from the interloper, quiet, saying little, eating even less, listening to the liar as he spun his web.
Not that he reminded her of a spider, she thought objectively. He was too golden and glorious for that, with his slanted blue-green eyes, his sun-streaked hair, his tanned skin stretched taut over his high cheekbones. He had the same slightly Slavic look that the real Alexander had had, which was probably what
Alexander surveyed him out of half-closed eyes. He had no illusions about his coconspirator. Of all the celebrated MacDowells , Warren had the strongest sense of self-interest, coupled with a useful lack of morality. When he'd first come up with the crazy idea of passing himself off as the missing heir, Warren had been the obvious choice for a partner in crime.
He'd considered other possibilities before approaching Warren , discarding them quickly. Constanza and Ruben were too loyal, Patsy too caught up in her endless quest for pleasure to make an effort to ensure she could continue to pay for it.
And Carolyn Smith. She would have been his first choice. After years on her own she was living with Sally MacDowell , taking care of her during her final illness. She knew more about the MacDowell family than anyone else—with her help no one would dare stand up to him.
But some sixth sense had sent him in Warren 's direction instead, and now he basked in his customary good luck. Carolyn would never have tolerated such deceit—she was obviously cursed with a strong sense of morality.
"You think Sally has any doubts?" Warren asked after a moment.
"Not a one. She needs to believe in me. She's dying, and she doesn't want to leave this life without finding her son again."
"Just make sure she doesn't start agreeing to things like DNA tests and the like. There's a limit to what we can do, who I can bribe."
"Don't worry, she won't," Alex said with calm assurance.
Warren stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, satisfied. "I won't deny it's gone extremely well so far. The next few days will be the test."
"The next few days will be simple," Alex murmured. "If you do your part."
"I'm the one with the most to lose," Warren said huffily.
"I doubt it. If I get unmasked you'll just insist you were taken in like everyone else. I'm willing to bet there isn't a shred of proof tying us together. Is there?"
"You think I don't trust you?"
"I think you don't trust anyone. Neither do I ." Alex sat up, turning to look at him. "Don't worry about it, Warren . I'm not going to get caught. If I am, cover your ass and don't worry about me. I'm very good at getting out of tight places."
"I'm supposed to believe you won't betray me?"
"If you don't believe that, why did you get involved in this?" Alex countered smoothly.
"Because you look eerily like him," Warren said after a moment.
"And because I showed up on your doorstep and offered you a chance to get your hands on all that lovely money," Alex said bluntly. "Don't forget that."
"My sister's dying," Warren said. "She'll die happy if she thinks her son is back—"
"You don't give a shit whether your sister dies happy or not. You only care that she dies with her estate settled, not tied up for years proving that the real Alexander MacDowell is dead."
"What if he's not?" Warren said suddenly. "What if the real one does suddenly appear?"
"He's dead, Warren ," Alex said in a low, cool voice. "Trust me, he's not coming back."
Carolyn had probably had to suffer through worse dinner parties in her life, but at the moment she was too miserable to remember them. A table had been set up in front of the bay window in Sally's room, and Sally even managed to sit in her wheelchair, the bright color of happiness in her pale cheeks. Alex sat beside her, attentive, charming, and Warren was surprisingly expansive. Carolyn sat across from the interloper, quiet, saying little, eating even less, listening to the liar as he spun his web.
Not that he reminded her of a spider, she thought objectively. He was too golden and glorious for that, with his slanted blue-green eyes, his sun-streaked hair, his tanned skin stretched taut over his high cheekbones. He had the same slightly Slavic look that the real Alexander had had, which was probably what
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