Claire would have thought she’d ask the obvious question, the one that burned inside her—why do we look alike?
‘To a family in the Lake District,’ she responded. ‘Not a family, precisely. Two little girls whose parents were killed in an accident. They are in the care of their uncle now, the new Viscount Brookmore.’ And with any luck at all, the Viscount wouldn’t often be in residence.
‘How sad.’ The lady frowned sympathetically.
Yes. The little girls were alone in the world. Claire knew how that felt.
But she did not wish to dwell on gloomy feelings, not when her life might improve. ‘And you, Lady Rebecca? Where are you bound?’
‘To London,’ she replied.
‘London!’ Claire smiled. A city of shops, palaces, theatres and town houses in picturesque squares. The Tower. Westminster Abbey. Hyde Park. ‘How exciting. I was there once. It was so...vital.’
‘Vital, indeed.’ Lady Rebecca, looking like Claire herself, appeared scornful.
Claire peered at her. ‘You sound as if you do not wish to go.’
The lady met her gaze. ‘I do not. I travel there to be married.’
Claire’s brows rose. ‘Married?’
Lady Rebecca waved a hand. ‘It is an arranged marriage. My brother’s idea.’
There were worse things than an arranged marriage. ‘And you do not wish to marry this man?’
‘Not at all.’ Lady Rebecca straightened in her chair. ‘May I change the subject?’
Claire blinked. She’d forgotten herself and had spoken out of turn, as if they were equals. ‘Forgive me. I did not mean to pry.’
Lady Rebecca shrugged. ‘Perhaps I will tell you the whole story later.’ She leaned forward. ‘For now I am bursting with questions. Why do we look alike? How can this be? Are we related somehow?’
The same questions Claire longed to ask.
They discussed possible family connections, but came up with none that connected them.
It would have been more of a surprise if they had been relations. Lady Rebecca was the daughter of an English earl whose estate was in Ireland and Claire was the daughter of an English vicar who’d rarely travelled out of his county.
They had both grown up in English boarding schools, however, although Lady Rebecca’s was a rather progressive school in Reading and Claire’s Bristol school had catered to girls like her, who would eventually have to make their own way in the world. It was through her boarding school that Claire had procured the governess position in Ireland.
Lady Rebecca blew out an exasperated breath. ‘We are no closer to understanding this. We are not related—’
‘But we look alike,’ Claire finished for her. ‘An unexpected coincidence?’
Lady Rebecca stood and pulled Claire towards a mirror affixed to the wall.
‘We are not identical.’ Claire was almost relieved to find some differences. ‘Look.’
Claire’s two front teeth were not quite as prominent and her eyebrows did not have Lady Rebecca’s lovely arch, and Claire’s eyes were closer together. Still, the differences were so minor as to be easily overlooked.
‘No one would notice unless we were standing next to each other,’ she admitted.
‘Our clothes set us apart. That is for certain.’ Lady Rebecca turned from the mirror and faced Claire. ‘If you wore my clothes, I’d wager anyone would take you for me.’
Claire admired the travelling dress Lady Rebecca wore, a vigonia-wool confection with ribbon trim at the hem. She’d also admired Lady Rebecca’s cloak, grey, like hers, but of a much finer wool. ‘I cannot imagine wearing fine clothes like yours.’ She sighed.
‘You must wear them, then.’ Lady Rebecca’s eyes—so like Claire’s eyes in colour and shape—brightened. ‘Let us change clothes and impersonate each other for the voyage. It will be a great lark. We will see if anyone notices.’
Claire was horrified. ‘Your clothes are too fine for you to give up. Mine are plain.’
‘Precisely.’ Lady Rebecca crossed her arms. ‘But I believe people pay more attention to dress than to other aspects of one’s appearance. Perhaps even more than one’s character. In any event, I think there is nothing undesirable about wearing a simple dress.’
Claire’s dress was certainly simple. A plain brown poplin.
She touched the fine wool of Rebecca’s travelling dress. ‘I confess, I would love to wear a gown like this.’
‘Then you shall!’ Rebecca turned her back to her. ‘Unbutton me.’
They undressed down to their shifts and swapped dresses, acting as each other’s maids.
‘Fix my hair like yours,’ Lady Rebecca said.
Claire pulled Lady Rebecca’s hair in a simple knot at the back of her head, feeling inexplicably sad to make Lady Rebecca as plain as she.
‘Let me do yours now.’ Lady Rebecca removed Claire’s hairpins and her hair fell on to her shoulders. She brushed Claire’s hair high on her head and, with a little pomade, twisted curling tendrils around her face.
Claire and her likeness gazed in the mirror again and laughed. They had indeed traded images.
There was a rap at the door.
‘Answer the door as me.’ Lady Rebecca grinned.
Impersonate a lady? ‘I could not.’
Lady Rebecca gave her a little push towards the door. ‘Of course you can!’
Claire straightened her spine as Lady Rebecca sat back down at the table.
Taking a deep breath, Claire opened the door.
It was a seaman deftly balancing a tray as the boat continued to pitch. ‘Some refreshment, m’lady.’ He took her to be Lady Rebecca!
The lovely clothes made Claire feel like a lady. ‘Thank you.’
Would he also assume Lady Rebecca was the governess? Claire gestured to her. ‘Miss Tilson passes the time with me. Will you bring her food here for her?’
‘That I will, miss.’ The crewman stepped into the cabin and placed the tray on the table right in front of Lady Rebecca. He returned a moment later with two more trays. ‘Your maid, miss?’
Claire looked to Lady Rebecca for guidance, but the lady turned away.
Claire finally answered, ‘My—my maid is resting. Perhaps you might leave her tray here, as well? We will tend to her.’
The seaman bowed. ‘Very good, miss.’ He placed both trays on the table.
When he left, Claire put her hand on her chest to still her rapidly beating heart.
‘I was afraid he would notice we look alike,’ Lady Rebecca said. ‘He must have glimpsed me when he left the trays.’
The crewman had taken no more notice of Lady Rebecca dressed as Claire than the handsome gentleman had done in the companionway.
Claire knew why. ‘A governess is not important enough to notice, my lady.’
She joined Lady Rebecca at the table and they continued to talk as they partook of the bread, cheese and ale the crewman had brought. Claire relaxed in this woman’s company. She forgot their difference in status and felt as comfortable as if they were sisters.
Rebecca was apparently feeling a similar kinship. ‘I believe we