The Perfect Impostor by Wendy Soliman

steady trot but it still took some time to reach the house itself. It was perched on a slight rise and commanded a fine vista over the surrounding countryside. Dawkins, the butler, knew Leo well and showed deferential pleasure at seeing him. He was too well trained to display any reaction at having an extra, unexpected guest to accommodate when the house was probably already full. He informed Leo that his master and mistress were taking tea with their guests on the terrace.
    Only as he followed Dawkins in that direction did it occur to Leo that he could have timed his arrival better. Making his appearance when the entire company was assembled in one place wasn’t the best way to gauge their individual reactions to his unexpected presence. But there was no help for it, and he eyed the gathered throng with detached interest as he waited to be announced.
    “Leo!” Lady Marshall sprang to her feet as fast as her arthritic knees would permit. “Is it really you?” She turned her beaming countenance towards him and held out her hands. He smiled in return as he walked up to his godmother, genuinely pleased to see her. “What a delightful surprise. I thought you were abroad somewhere doing heaven alone knows what for king and country. The antics you gentlemen get up to are quite beyond a frail feminine brain.”
    Leo suppressed a smile and kissed her outstretched hand. Her mind was still as sharp as a needle in spite of the dizzy image she enjoyed projecting.
    “When did you get back?”
    “Last night. I was on my way back to town but could hardly pass your gates without calling in. However…” He allowed his gaze to drift across the gathering. All conversation had ceased and speculative glances were being cast in his direction. “I had no idea you would be entertaining. I am intruding.”
    “Nonsense, my boy.” Lord Marshall stood to clasp Leo’s hand and shoulder. “Always a delight to see you.”
    “You simply must stay for a few days, Leo,” Lady Marshall said. “You would be a most welcome addition to our little gathering.”
    “Very well, if you’re quite sure. Thank you, I should be delighted.”
    A chair was produced for him and placed beside Lady Marshall. He was handed a cup of tea, and before he knew it was the centre of much curiosity.
    He noticed Julia at once on the periphery of the throng, a vision in lilac muslin. A pretty parasol was tipped over one shoulder, shading her face, and an extravagant bonnet covered her curls. Two young gentlemen were competing for her attention. He refrained from rolling his eyes. Some things never changed. She had observed his arrival, of that he was certain, but now appeared determined to look everywhere except at him. It was the first thing she’d done that surprised him. Julia never played by the rules.
    He was acquainted with almost everyone present except some of the younger set. He withstood the giggling attention of the girls with stoic indifference. The barrage of questions directed towards him by the young men keen to know more about his life as a diplomat were almost as easily deflected. He was dimly aware of the speculative expressions on the faces of some of the matrons but ignored their interest. Instead he focused his attention on Mrs. Nugent, the only one of the suspect ladies not previously known to him.
    She was exquisitely pretty and would provide interesting competition for Julia. But there was also something contrived about her manner that set him on his guard. She found it difficult to disguise her pleasure at being included in a society gathering of this nature. If her husband really was short of the necessary blunt to maintain their way of life, there was no telling what she might be prepared to do to cling on to her newfound status.
    The tea things were cleared away and people drifted towards the house, presumably to rest before it was time to dress for dinner. Still Julia hadn’t acknowledged his presence in any way other than offering him a