The Countess by Lynsay Sands Page B

had she known what to do things would have been different.
    Or perhaps it would have been different had she experienced those feelings and sensations then that she’d had tonight while they were dancing, a little voice in her head spoke up. Christiana didn’t think she’d have lain holding her breath and unmoving had she felt even a little of what she had tonight in his arms. She’d wanted to touch and kiss and do all sorts of things to the man she’d danced with.
    “Can you try to see if he has the birthmark?” Robert asked quietly, drawing her from her thoughts.
    Christiana grimaced at the suggestion and admitted, “I’d really rather not.”
    “You don’t have to actually . . . erm . . .” He hesitated and then said instead, “If you were to enter his room while he was dressing or undressing you could see if he has it without . . . er . . . an ‘any time since.’ ”
    Christiana wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. Dicky did hate it when she entered any room he was in without gaining permission first.
    “It is important,” Robert assured her.
    She glanced to him silently, and then said, “You suspect he doesn’t have the birthmark, which suggests you believe he isn’t Dicky at all? You think Dicky is really George?”
    Langley nodded apologetically. “I began to suspect it the first time I came to visit and he turned me away, but the second time just convinced me more.” He scowled and shook his head. “I could just kick myself for not being there when he was courting you. If it is George and I’d spent any time around him back then I would have known at once. I could have saved you from all this misery. I—”
    “Your father was dying, Robert. Of course you spent those last weeks at his side. Never blame yourself for that, marrying Dicky was my choice,” she said firmly.
    “Dicky,” Robert said the name with disgust. “Richard hated that name. George is the only one who called him that.”
    Christiana frowned at this news. It was Richard, or the man they’d thought was Richard, who had insisted they all call him Dicky. She preferred Richard herself.
    “George was always a pompous little ass,” Robert informed her grimly. “He was not well liked at school and was only ever included in things because he was Richard’s brother, which just made him act worse. He was envious of how well liked Richard was and bitter that as the older twin Richard would gain the title on their father’s death.” He sighed and then admitted quietly, “I suspect it was Richard who died in the fire and George just took his place.”
    Christiana shook her head and pointed out, “But if it really was Richard who died in the fire, George had no need to impersonate him. He would have gained everything anyway.”
    “That’s true, but . . .” Robert shook his head. “I suspect that wouldn’t have been enough for George. He would have still been George. Titled or not, and holding all the wealth or not wouldn’t have made anyone respect or like him better and I think he envied that most about his brother. Everyone liked and trusted Richard. Being heir to the title and estate never affected Richard. He was naturally kind and considerate and everyone knew and appreciated that.”
    Those last words resonated through Christiana’s head. Richard was naturally kind and considerate and everyone knew and appreciated that . . . like she had on the dance floor just now. The man she’d just danced with had been surprisingly kind and considerate, and she had appreciated it. But he’d shown precious little of either attribute this last year. Was the man she’d married Richard Fairgrave, the Earl of Radnor, or his twin, George? And if it was George, what would that mean to her? Would their marriage be legal?
    “Try to see if he has the birthmark,” Robert said quietly. “If he doesn’t, come to me at once no matter the hour. I shall handle everything after that.”
    Christiana nodded unhappily and thought