ow," he said, "what the devil's going on?"
Barely leashed anger vibrated behind the words. Drawing her gaze from his, she fixed it on the lawn and the enclosing trees. "You know most of it." She drew in a breath, to gain time, to gain control. "All that I told you as the countess is true, except-"
"That your supposed late husband is in fact your father, that the youthful Charles is Charlie, Maria is Mary, Alicia is Alice, and Seraphina is Serena. That much I'd guessed."
"Well, then." She shrugged. "That's it."
When he said nothing more, she risked a quick glance. He was waiting-he caught her gaze and held it.
A moment passed.
"Try again."
His temper reached her clearly. There would be no escape. "What do you want to know?" If she could cling to the straightforward, the matter-of-fact, she might just survive his inquisition.
"Is the earldom in as dire straits as you portrayed?"
"Yes."
"Why did you create the countess?"
Straightforward. Matter-of-fact. She returned her gaze to the vista outside. "If I'd written to you or visited you with the story of a suspect note without telling you of the family's financial plight, would you have undertaken the investigation yourself or handed it to Montague?"
"If you'd told me the whole story-"
"Put yourself in my shoes. Would you have told you the whole story? How close to ruin we stood? Still stand."
After a moment, he inclined his head. "Very well-I accept that you would have avoided telling me that. But the countess…?"
She lifted her chin. "It worked."
He waited, but she was too used to silence, to being silent with him, for the ploy to have any effect. His realization rang in his tone. "I take it your father and Serena are not aware of your masquerade."
"No."
"Who does know?"
"No one-well, only the senior servants."
"Your coachman… that was Jacobs?"
She nodded.
"Who of the others?"
"Nellie. Figgs. Miss Helm. Connor. Crisp, of course. And Folwell." She paused, then nodded. "That's all."
He swore under his breath. "All?"
She shot him a frown. "They're devoted to me. There's no need to imagine anything will come of it. They always do precisely as I say."
He looked at her, then one brow quirked higher. "Oh?" His tone had dropped to a whisper. Signaling her to silence, he crossed to the door, then flipped the lock and hauled it open in one movement, revealing Nellie, Crisp, Figgs, Miss Helm…
Alathea simply stared. Then she stiffened and glared. "Go away!"
"Well, m'lady." Nellie cast a wary glance at Gabriel. "We were just wondering-"
"I'm perfectly all right. Now go!"