“I am not confused. I had a letter from the duke, spelling out his intentions in detail. A notice is to appear in the Morning Post at the end of the month.”
Lady Abernathy was stricken speechless for the first time in her life. Lady Smithfield observed the stunned inhabitants of her drawing room and almost began to enjoy the situation.
Emily felt a little of her mother’s vindication as well. Forgetting for the moment that she had no desire for her or her sister to wed the marquess, she gloried in seeing the crack in Lady Cynthia’s haughty veneer. Emily did not believe for a moment that Lady Cynthia had any tender feelings for the marquess, so she did not believe the news could do her any lasting harm.
All were surprised when Lydia spoke. “Perhaps, Mama, if Lady Cynthia has a prior claim to the marquess’s affections . . .” She faltered under her mother’s severe gaze.
“Nonsense. It is obvious he was not serious in his intentions.”
Lady Cynthia’s alabaster complexion turned red. “I do not believe you can speak with such authority on the matter, Lady Smithfield.”
“My dear girl, although I did not witness the marquess’s attentions to you, I can tell you with authority that it is quite common for an idle gentleman to enjoy a flirtation with a pretty girl such as yourself.”
Lady Cynthia did not know whether to be more insulted that her charms, commonly described as beautiful and incomparable, were relegated to a mere “pretty,” or the implication that she had been a momentary diversion for a bored nobleman. She rose in a huff and turned to her aunt. “Aunt Mildred, I refuse to stay in this house a minute longer.”
“Of course, Cynthia. We shall leave at once. Lady Smithfield, Miss Smithfield, Miss Emily Smithfield,” Lady Abernathy addressed her hostess and her daughters, “I can only say that I am very disappointed, and I shall not bid you a good day.”
“Well! That was most unpleasant,” Lady Smithfield stated, a frown on her face. She turned to her daughters to find Emily stifling a giggle. “Emily, child, what is there to smile about?”
“I am sorry, Mama, but the look on Lady Cynthia’s face . . .” She could hold her laughter back no longer, and it was only a few seconds before her mother joined in. Even Lydia could not maintain her tragic mood in the face of her mother and sister’s hilarity, and was soon giggling as well.
When the laughter subsided, Lady Smithfield grew sober once more. “I only hope Lady Abernathy sends us an invitation to her ball after this episode.”
“Oh, Mama, do you think she would not?” Emily grew sober as well. She was looking forward to the ball.
Lady Abernathy considered for a moment. Then a wide smile appeared on her face. “No, I do not. After all, she could hardly invite our guests were she to exclude us.”
She started laughing again, and after a moment or two, so did Emily and Lydia.
Emily still had a smile on her face when she knocked on Lord Wesleigh’s door a few minutes later.
“Come.”
Emily opened the door but stayed in the doorway. “I just wanted to tell you that our guests have left, and they send you their regards.” Emily could not remember if they had done so or not, but figured they probably would have if they were not in such a hurry to get out of the house. The thought made her grin.
Alexander and Marcus looked at her in suspicion. Alexander had been afraid to leave until after Lady Cynthia and her aunt were long gone, as he had not wanted to run the risk of meeting them, so he was still in his friend’s chamber.
“You appear as if you found their visit pleasant,” Alexander ventured.
“Oh, indeed. I enjoyed it tremendously.”
Alexander and Marcus exchanged a look. “Really. I did not realize Lady Cynthia was of such a congenial disposition. Perhaps I was mistaken in her,” Marcus said. This innocent comment had Emily grinning even wider.
“Tsk, tsk. You should not speak so disparagingly of your inamorata. She had much kinder things to say about you.”
“My what!” Marcus exclaimed, before Alexander nudged him in the shoulder. He had forgotten for the moment that he was not himself, but Wesleigh. And there had been rumors of his friend’s involvement with the girl.
Emily felt that such a discussion should not be carried on in the hallway. So she proceeded a few more feet into the room. “I am sorry,” she said, with a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Is that not the appropriate word for it? I did not mean to imply the relationship was not all that it should be.”
Marcus looked at Alexander in irritation. “You and your intrigues,” he muttered, only loud enough for Alexander to hear. Then he tried to think what Alexander would say if in this situation. “My dear girl, you must realize that my involvement with Lady Cynthia was not of a serious nature,” he told Emily. “It was just a lighthearted flirtation. I realize that you are not familiar with the ways of London society, but that sort of thing happens all the time.”
“That is just what Mama told her,” she assured Marcus, still the picture of innocence, but the barely suppressed smile giving her away.
“Your mother told Lady Cynthia what?” Alexander exclaimed, his look of amusement fading.
“Let me see . . .” Emily paused as if struggling to remember. “I believe she said that ‘idle gentleman often amuse themselves by flirting with pretty girls.’ That was, of course, in response to Lady Cynthia’s disclosure that she and Lord Wesleigh were engaged.”
“What!” Both men exclaimed in unison. Emily was enjoying herself immensely.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, she did not come out and say you were engaged,” she assured Marcus. “She just said that the announcement of your betrothal was expected at any moment. Dear me, I suppose I should not have repeated that. She did ask us to keep her confidence. However, I did not suppose there would be any harm in telling you. After all, I assume you would already be aware of the engagement if it were due to be announced at any moment.”
Marcus looked rather helplessly at his friend. Alexander nobly rose to the occasion, though he was reeling at the disclosure. How dared Lady Cynthia tell people they were engaged! He should have known better than to say two words to her, let alone flirt with her. “Miss Smithfield, I am sure you realize that a man in a position like Wesleigh here is liable to receive unwanted attention from females.”
Emily turned her innocent gaze in Alexander’s direction. “Then he did not flirt with her?”
Little minx, Alexander thought. Laughing at us all behind that wide-eyed look. “Well, he may have flirted with her, but I can assure you, he had no intention of marrying her.”
“Quite right,” Marcus agreed, seeing a vision of himself forced to marry Lady Cynthia while masquerading as Lord Wesleigh flash before his eyes. “The girl has a vivid imagination.”
“Well, I can only say that I am sure Mama will be relieved to hear that.” She turned to leave the room, pausing before closing the door to remark, “Because she told Lady Abernathy and Lady Cynthia that you purposed to make an alliance with our family.” She shut the door quickly, but not before the gentlemen heard her giggle at the sight of Marcus’s dismayed expression.
“What a saucy girl it is,” Marcus said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you certain you want her? She will be a rare handful.”
“Oh, I am certain. She is exactly what I need. I cannot envision a dull moment with Emily around.” Alexander began to smile. “I must admit I would have liked to have been there when Lady Smithfield told the so-proper Lady Cynthia that she had been no more than a trifling flirtation.”
“I cannot imagine how you struck up a flirtation with the girl in the first place,” Marcus said in disgust. “I would think you would have had better luck coaxing a kiss from a stone.”
“But that was exactly it. It was the challenge of the thing. She was an ice princess, and I had visions of heating her up a bit. I realized my folly pretty soon, let me tell you, and I spent most of our so-called flirtation running away from her as fast as I could. I guess
I should thank my father, or I could have ended up married to the girl.
“Enough talk of Lady Cynthia. How is the pursuit of our spy coming?” Alexander asked Marcus.
“I scouted around last night looking for his hideout, and I cannot find a likely spot.”
“Perhaps he lives underground, like a mole,” Alexander suggested, joking.
“That is not as absurd a statement as you might think,” Marcus told him. “You have heard of the Hawkhurst Gang, I presume?”
“Yes, they were quite notorious. I forgot that they were from this part of the country. But they are all long dead. What have they to do with our highwayman?”
“It is said they had underground tunnels from Hawkhurst to Stonehurst and beyond. Perhaps our highwayman is using the tunnels to escape detection.”
“That is an interesting premise. Have you located any of these tunnels?”
“I have heard that one of the tunnels originates from the Tudor Arms. I am to pay a visit to the place this evening and see what I can find.”
“Would you appreciate some company?” Alexander asked.
“I am not sure you have the talent for acting that I have.” Sir Marcus grinned, slipping back into his foppish role. “My grandmother was an actress, don’t you know.”
“I seem to remember you saying as much,” Alexander replied. “Still, you are liable to ruin your jacket in such a seedy place. Or someone could take exception to your golden locks.”
“You may come if you wish. However, I could definitely use some help on Saturday night. There is a courier traveling with a missive from Whitehall. It would be a logical time for our man to strike.”
“I would be happy to help you apprehend the traitor. In fact, I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”
Chapter Nine
Emily knocked gently on Lord Wesleigh’s door, not wanting to disturb him if he was sleeping. Apparently he was not. There was a shuffling sound and a thump.
“Lord Wesleigh? Are you all right?” Emily asked from the other side of the door.
“Fine, fine. Just dropped my book. Give me a moment.” Marcus scrambled to get back into the bed and under the covers.
Emily patiently waited a few minutes before heeding Marcus’s call to come in.
“I am sorry to disturb you, my lord. I just wanted to check in on you. Do you need anything?”
“No, no, I am fine,” Marcus assured her.
“You look rather flushed,” Emily said, peering at Wesleigh speculatively. She wondered how sick Lord Wesleigh really was. Perhaps this was all an elaborate ploy to avoid social doings with her family. She grew angry at the notion this fop thought he was better than she or Lydia, conveniently forgetting that she and her sister had rejected him first. Irritated by her suspicions, she regretted the sympathetic impulse that had prompted her to check on him.
“Just the fever, I expect,” he replied, coughing unconvincingly into his handkerchief.
Emily nodded and turned to leave.
“You are not going?” Marcus asked plaintively.
“Why, yes. I just stopped in for a moment.”
“But, I am bored to flinders. Stay for a while. Please.”
Emily smiled, her temper restored. Oh, well. She supposed it would not hurt to entertain him for a while. It was the polite thing to do. He was a guest in their home, after all. “All right, I will stay. What would you like to do?”
“I don’t know. A game of chess, perhaps?”
Emily nodded agreeably, although she was rather bored with chess. The duke of Alford was a devotee of the game, and she had spent the last two evenings playing him after dinner. She retrieved the chess set anyway and set it up on the table beside the bed. They played a rather desultory game, which Emily won easily. As she was putting the game away, she asked Marcus about his friend.
“Mr. Williams tells me you two have known each other a long time.”
“What? Oh, yes. We are rather close. We see a lot of each other in London.”
“Oh? Does Mr. Williams travel to London often? I would have suspected his duties as curate keep him quite occupied.”
“Quite so. He doesn’t get to London as often as he would like, but comes whenever he can get away for a time. Which is not often enough, in my opinion. I cannot abide the country. The society is so limited, and there are few decent occupations to be found.” Marcus began fiddling with his quizzing glass, apparently unaware that he had just insulted his hostess. Emily just smiled to herself, having learned not to take Lord Wesleigh too seriously.
“I don’t recall ever having met you in London, Miss Smithfield,” Marcus said, thinking that it was a good thing he had not.
“No, we do not travel to London much.” Emily sighed. “My father used to take me occasionally when he was alive, but I have not been in nearly five years.”
“Pity. I could see you fitting in rather well in London.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. You would be a refreshing change to the simpering girls that one meets. I think you would make quite a splash.”
“Oh, I do not think so, but I appreciate the compliment. My ambitions are modest. I have no desire to make a splash, just meet some new people.”
“Well, London’s the place to do so,” Marcus assured her. “Particularly during the season. More people than you can shake a stick at.”
Emily almost mentioned she did not think one should shake sticks at people, but did not think Lord Wesleigh would appreciate her attempt at humor. Instead, she said, rather wistfully, “Well, it is no use speculating about it, because it’s unlikely I’ll ever be in London for the season.” Emily determinedly changed the subject, and they discussed music for a while. During the course of the conversation, they agreed to dispense with the formalities and were soon calling each other by their first names. Of course, as Marcus did not wish to be called Alexander, Emily agreed to call him by his preferred name, Marcus. She discovered she knew some of his favorite pieces, and offered to play for him. Marcus agreed enthusiastically, as he thought he would lose his mind if he had to look at the same four walls any longer. He told her he thought he could manage to walk down the stairs to the drawing room.
“Oh, no, my lord, I mean, Marcus. You mustn’t risk your health in that manner. You can hear the music very well from here, as I will be sure to leave the door to your chamber open.” Emily still suspected his illness might only be a pretense, and could not resist punishing him a little.
“Very well,” he said, a little sulkily.
Emily hid her smile and went to play the pianoforte, as promised. She had been playing for about half an hour when Alexander arrived to visit his friend. He found Marcus sitting upright in bed, eyes closed, and a smile on his face.
“I hope I am not interrupting anything,” Alexander said from the doorway, an ironic smile on his face.
“Alex. You startled me. No, dashed glad to see you, actually. A chap gets bored sitting in bed all day.”
“You do not look bored at the moment, however.”
“No. I have been enjoying the music.” He made a motion in the air in the direction of the drawing room. “Emily has been playing some of my favorite songs.”
“Emily, is it?” Alexander asked.
“She asked me to call her that when I insisted she call me Marcus. To tell you the truth, I was sick to death of having to answer to your name. There’s nothing improper in it,” Marcus insisted, when Alexander continued to stare suspiciously at him.
“I am sure there is not. Did she know they were your favorites or was it just a fortunate guess on her part?”
“No, I told her. She has been very accommodating this morning. She’s a very nice girl, Emily Smithfield. I can see why you admire her.”
“Indeed,” Alexander agreed, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “She spent some time with you this morning?”
“Yes, I told her she ought to go to London. ’Tis rather a shame she has to be stuck in the country like this. When I thi
nk of what a good modiste could accomplish . . .” Sir Marcus’s voice trailed off, as he became lost envisioning playing Pygmalion to Emily’s Galatea. He shook himself from his reverie, and continued, “Regardless, we both agreed she would benefit from a broader circle of friends she could make in London society. She finds the country somewhat confining.”
“Apparently the country is not too confining. She seems to have made one new friend already.”
Marcus smiled. “Well, I hope so. One can never have too many friends.”
“Particularly when the friend is an attractive young lady who believes you to be the heir to a dukedom.”
Marcus’s smile faded. “I do not think I appreciate your remark, or your tone of voice. If you are trying to make some sort of implication, I can only say you’re far off the mark. I do not have any designs on your lady, nor does she on me.”
“Well, I believe that you may not be interested in her, I know you don’t have any wish to be leg-shackled, but you must remember that Emily believes you to be highly eligible.”
“I think you are doing her a disservice. Her attentions to me have been those of a gracious hostess to a guest in her home, and nothing more.”
Alexander shook his head, a skeptical look on his face. “Here speaks the man who has not been the target of grasping females for the past ten years.”
“I tell you, Alex, I think all the attention has spoiled you for a good female. You cannot believe there are any decent women out there who would be interested in a gentleman for anything other than his title and fortune. For your information, Emily tried to lead the conversation to a discussion of you, but I had no desire to contradict whatever you may have told her concerning your assumed identity, and turned the subject.”
Alexander relaxed a little and looked at his friend hopefully. “She asked about me, did she?”
“Yes, she did. Although I am starting to think you don’t deserve a nice girl like Emily. Lady Cynthia might be the better match for you after all.”
Sir Marcus was prevented from saying anything else by the pillow his best friend smashed into his face.
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