Page 12 of London Dynasty

“I will help you pick an outfit that Kerrigan would put together.”

“Did she always have you do this?” I asked, trying to buy myself time. I had no idea which shoes Kerrigan would pick or what was appropriate for a lunch date with my twenty-six-year-old stepmother. It felt like a test, and I was going to fail.

“Rarely. Kerrigan had impeccable taste,” he said. “She didn’t require me to dress her.”

“Had?”

“Has,” he corrected himself.

“I don’t want her to be angry when she comes back. What if I break a heel?” Or my ankle?

This earned me an eye roll that was neither inconspicuous nor good-humored. It was clear that while Giles might know Kerrigan well enough to help me, he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect. “She’ll buy new shoes. Just pick.”

I ran a finger along the shelf, stopping on a pair of relatively stable-looking wedges. They weren’t nearly as sexy as most of the others, but they had the benefit of a bit of a platform. Most of Kerrigan’s other shoes could be used as murder weapons. Still, the white leather straps were thin and delicate and the platform would easily push me five inches off solid ground. Before I could look for something less tall, Giles noticed my pause and seized them.

“These will be fine.”

I stepped back and watched as he opened more doors hidden within the mirrored walls, picking hangers with practiced ease. He stopped and arched an eyebrow.

“Are you going to change or…”

“Oh, um.” I shifted uncomfortably.

“Kerrigan is very comfortable with her body,” he advised.

“And if I’m not?” I asked defensively.

He resumed pillaging the closet, talking over his shoulder. “I would suggest you become comfortable. There’s a party tomorrow night. Spencer will be there. I expect things will progress rapidly.”

Apparently, Giles was going to force me to read between the lines. Except that I needed more than that from him. “Look, you don’t have to treat me like I’m her, but I’m not an idiot either. Just tell me what you’re trying to say.”

“Alright.” He stopped and turned to face me, clutching something lacy. “If you can’t get naked around me, how do you plan to do so around Spencer?”

“I—I—” I’d pushed him to be honest, but now I wished I hadn’t. The surreality of my situation was wearing off quickly, and in its place was a rather harsh reality. I’d agreed to act as Kerrigan. I’d known I would be expected to sleep with Spencer. I suppose I’d imagined a lights-off, under-the-sheets experience. “You’re right,” I admitted finally. “I guess this is a lot to digest. Thank you for being honest with me. It’s nice to have an anchor in the storm.”

For the first time, Giles smiled. Stretching out one hand, he offered me the lingerie he’d gathered. My outfit was draped over his other arm, which held onto the shoes that had inspired his choices. “This is a rather unusual predicament. I promise to help you navigate it as Kerrigan would.”

“And she would already be down to her birthday suit?” I guessed.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen her naked a thousand times. It’s hardly anything exciting.”

“Am I terrible if that makes me feel better and worse?” I asked him.

“Not at all.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, remembering what Eliza had said. This was the first of many uncomfortable situations I’d signed up for when I agreed to her father’s plan. I thought of the ten million pounds. Once I had it, I could slip away, start over, and finally start a real life. That was enough incentive.

A short while later, I stood in front of the mirror, processing the transformation Giles had achieved. When he’d first handed me his choices, I’d been skeptical. To go with the wedges, he’d chosen a pair of airy, wide-legged linen pants in a summery white. They rose high on my waist, tapering in at the narrowest point with two precise, sophisticated pleats. The silk blouse he’d selected was thin and nearly sheer, cropped to showcase the highrise of the pants.

“Less is more for a luncheon,” he told me, handing me the largest pair of diamond solitaire earrings I’d ever seen.

“Are these real?” I asked, nervously, as I poked them through my lobes.

He paused and considered. “Do you want to know?”

“No,” I said swiftly. If one of them fell out, I didn’t want to think about losing a diamond approximately the size of a small boulder.

Giles finished putting a few items into a handbag and passed it to me. I took it, studying the quilted leather and its interlocking CC logo.