Page 13 of London Dynasty

“Lipstick, keys, identification, and I put my number in your mobile,” he informed me.

“Identification?” I repeated with surprise. I opened the clasp and found a driver’s license. Kerrigan’s face stared at me. I scanned it quickly. “But why wouldn’t she take this…”

“She took her passport,” Giles said. “Wherever she went, she didn’t need to drive, it seems.” He reached over and fluffed my hair over my shoulder. I’d sat still long enough for him to show me how she curled the dark locks we shared with an iron. He’d even walked me through her daytime cosmetic routine, which I was grateful turned out to be relatively low maintenance for someone who planned her wardrobe around her shoes.

I looked in the mirror one more time and found a stranger staring back at me. I’d seen her pictures, but until this moment, I’d questioned how everyone else saw such a resemblance. This morning, I’d shoved unruly hair into a ponytail and slipped into what I thought was a dressy outfit. Then I’d been whisked away from Bexby in the safe confines of the Belmond’s car and delivered here, where Giles had overseen the final stage of my physical transformation. The reflection showed no sign of Kate. I’d emerged from my cocoon with bouncing curls, full, painted lips, and the kind of sophistication that could only be bought. I’d become Kerrigan Belmond.

It had taken me nearly an hour to dress, so by the time, Giles went over a few more, important points and led me back downstairs to the library, I was starving and ashamed. I darted inside, the Chanel clutch under my arm. “I’m so sorry that I made you wait.”

Iris looked up from the tablet she was holding—apparently, the hundreds of books surrounding her on the walnut shelves weren’t to her taste—and blinked. “I expected you to take longer.”

I drove my lips into a smile and shrugged, realizing that Kerrigan wasn’t likely to apologize for taking too long getting ready. “I suppose I’m hungry.”

“Well, our reservation isn’t for two more hours, but we could hit the shops near Hillgrove’s,” she said brightly. “But if you’re terribly hungry, I can call and have them move it up.”

“I can wait,” I said. After visiting Kerrigan’s closet, I sensed she was unlikely to turn down a shopping trip.

“Excellent! This is going to be wonderful.”

Within an hour, I’d realized two things: Iris had meant everything she said about wanting to be friends and that I had never really been shopping in my life. Not by Belmond standards. When we’d reached Sloane Street in Belgravia, I’d recognized the designer names gracing the shop doors. Inside the first boutique, I’d made the mistake of peeking at a price tag and nearly fainted, uncertain if it was the item’s cost or the phone number to a helpline for shopping addicts.

Iris seemed more suited to this life than I was. If she saw a piece she liked, she just picked it up and handed it to the shop girl charged with attending to the every need of the two of us.

“Aren’t you going to get anything?” she asked me as we stood admiring a collection of silk scarves.

“I don’t really wear scarves,” I said without thinking and instantly wished I hadn’t. Maybe Kerrigan loved scarves. There were several parts of her closet that I hadn’t seen inside yet.

“They’re such lovely accessories,” Iris said, fingering the edge of one. She didn’t seem surprised by my proclamation. “You can never have too many.”

“Which one should I get?” I asked her. The truth was that I had no idea where to start and without some help, I was going to just have to start pointing at random things and hope I chose wisely.

“This is a lovely shade of blue,” she said, holding it up. “Your father mentioned it’s your favorite color.”

I tucked that bit of information into my brain for safekeeping. “It is,” I agreed. “I’ll take this one.”

“I’ll wrap it up for you, Miss Belmond,” the shop girl said, moving to place the scarf in an orange box.

“You’ll have to show me how to wear it,” I told Iris.

She beamed back at me. “I’d love to. I think—”

Before she could finish the thought, a hand appeared on her shoulder as an older woman with silver-blonde hair cut into a short, chic bob stepped beside us. “Iris! What a pleasant surprise.” She turned and gasped when she saw me. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought I’d been found out. Instead, she reached to squeeze my arm. “And Kerrigan! Your father mentioned you were back in town, but I hadn’t expected to see you until tomorrow night. Spencer is looking forward to it.”

“S-so am I,” I stammered as I started to piece together what was happening.

“I wish we could stay, but I’m heading to lunch with my daughter at Hillgrove’s.”

“Oh, we’re on our way there,” Iris said without missing a beat.

“You must join us,” Spencer’s mother said, and my heart sank as she waved to a younger girl, who was examining a pair of sunglasses. “Evie would be delighted for the company.”

For a moment, I considered faking a stomach cramp. I wasn’t ready. Giles had barely scratched the surface of what I needed to know. I wasn’t prepared to impress his mother or speak to his sister. Going with them now could only end in disaster, but before I could come up with an excuse, Iris grinned widely.

“We’d love to join you.”

Chapter Nine

As soon as we reached Hillgrove’s, which proved to be nearly as posh as the nearby shops, I excused myself to the loo. Iris was busy seeing to a larger table than she’d reserved, and the Byrds would be joining us after they finished with their purchases down the street. I was hoping that might buy me some time to send a plea for help. Locking myself inside a stall, I sent a panicked message to Giles on the mobile he’d given me. I sank onto the toilet and waited. After five minutes I gave up. Placing my mobile back in my handbag, I reminded myself that this meeting was inevitable. So what if I was supposed to have one more day? Was twenty-four hours going to do that much to ready me?