The Impostor by Lily Lang

Sevigny knew,” she said. “I told no one of my intention to be at Carlton House tonight, not even my father.”
    “Why do you think Sevigny wanted me to kill you?” Sebastian asked.
    She hesitated a second too long. “My father, and my association with the Omega Group, I suppose,” she said at last.
    “And yet the Americans who pursued us tonight said you were to be kept alive. Do you know why?”
    “No,” she said, shaking her head quickly.
    Intrigued, he considered her for a long moment, watching the way the firelight flickered across her delicate features, her gleaming hair. She was lying, but he didn’t know why, or about what.
    Aloud, he asked, “Do you suppose those Americans were mercenaries?”
    “I believe so,” said Tessa slowly. “America has no cause to incite fresh war between England and France.”
    “As it is clear we are both indeed in danger from Sevigny and his hired thugs,” said Sebastian, “what do you suggest we should do?”
    “I think you should leave London, sir,” said Tessa immediately. “You have estates in the country. You would be safer there.”
    “And what of you?”
    She hesitated again. “I shall think of something.”
    “But you wish me to hide?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
    “There are two men dead and three missing, my lord,” she said. “They were all brave, capable men. It did not save them.”
    “No,” said Sebastian. “But there is one difference. I have been warned.”
    Tessa did not seem to know what to say to this. Finally she said, “Then what do you intend to do?”
    “Unravel this mystery, of course,” said Sebastian. “I will go to the offices at Abchurch Street tomorrow and ascertain the truth of Francis’s disappearance. I certainly have no intention of fleeing to Grenville Park and hiding.”
    As he spoke, that long-dormant sense of anticipation coursed through him again. In the years since the end of the war, he had seemed to exist in a sort of fog, as dense as any that hung over London. He had hidden his Gift, drifted aimlessly from ballroom to soiree, hunting lodge to country manor. His work in Parliament had kept him busy, but it had not truly satisfied him. He had acquired beautiful horses and beautiful mistresses, but nothing he owned, nothing he did, had seemed real to him.
    But tonight he had used his Gift for a purpose. Here, at last, was something substantial. It had been a very long time since he had felt as alive as he felt now.
    “I will accompany you then, my lord,” said Tessa.
    Sebastian started, then raised his eyebrows. “I see no reason why you should,” he said.
    “My father’s life is at stake as well,” she said. “As well as my own. And I may know something you do not.”
    He studied her for a long moment. In the firelight her eyes were fierce and burning.
    He did not trust Tessa Ryder. She had saved his life tonight, but she had lied to him as well. He knew it, though he did not know why, or about what.
    Perhaps it would be best to keep an eye on her.
    “Very well,” he said. “Where have you been staying?”
    “I have a room at an inn called the Sword and Stag,” she said.
    “You have a trunk there?”
    “A small valise.”
    “Give me the address. I will see to it that it is brought to you here.”
    “Here?”
    He raised his eyebrow again. “You have some objection to remaining here at Montague House?”
    “No,” she said slowly. “Of course not. Thank you, sir.”
    “Then it’s settled,” he said. He tugged on the bell and Coleman materialized in the doorway.
    “You rang for me, my lord?” his long-suffering butler inquired.
    “Take Miss Ryder back upstairs to her chamber,” he said. “She will be staying with us for the time being.”
    Coleman bowed. “Very good, my lord. If you will follow me, miss?”
    She dipped a small curtsy, then gathered her skirts and started after the butler, her steps measured. But when she reached the doorway, Sebastian suddenly asked,