of this in the first place, he could not argue that point. He also wondered what Emily would do if faced with Marcus as a potential husband. Would she go through with her plans to marry the heir of a duke?
He realized that at some point in the midst of the game he was playing the rules had changed. He no longer cared to discover Lydia Smithfield’s true character. He was relieved she was as unwilling to marry him as he was to marry her. But, somehow, in the course of this charade he had begun to care about Emily Smithfield’s true character. He found himself entranced by her big brown eyes and vivacious manner. And, if the truth were told, that kiss was quite beguiling as well, to say the very least. But he was stymied by her announcement that she planned to marry Lord Wesleigh. He was beginning to think all he wanted was to marry Emily Smithfield, sweep her away to Venice or Rome, show her London and show London to her. But some romantic part of his soul that he did not know even existed wanted her to fall in love with him regardless of his position or rank. So he had persisted in the charade, even though he knew it was no longer necessary. He had no doubt that his father would not force him into marriage with a lady who was in love with another gentleman. He could return to London today and explain the situation to his father and be free. It was as simple as that. But he was no longer free. He would leave a portion of himself there in Stonehurst, with her. Really, Marcus would be doing him a favor by pretending to be Lord Wesleigh. If Emily still persisted in wanting to wed the heir of a duke, no matter who he was, then, as hard a fact as that was to swallow, she would have made her choice.
He looked up from his deliberation to find Marcus looking at him expectantly, almost sympathetically. “That bad, is it?” Marcus asked, his voice pitched low so Jonathan could not overhear. “I must say I am glad Cupid hasn’t yet struck me with any of his little pointy arrows. It appears they sting quite a bit.” Raising his voice, he asked: “So after all that cogitation, what decision have you reached? Am I to assist our noble vicar in his duties? Or warm a bed at Lady Smithfield’s house, my frail body wracked by shuddering coughs?”
Before Sedgewick could start sputtering again, Alexander replied, “It looks to me like you should take to your bed immediately. You appear to have contracted a serious case of the grippe.”
The gentlemen settled down to make plans. It appeared Marcus had apprehended Alexander’s traveling carriage while in London. It was a simple matter of having his servants address Sir Marcus as Lord Wesleigh, and that should be all that was necessary, as long as Marcus did not leave the house and did not accept visitors. The only visitor he would accept would be Alexander, who had already told Emily he was acquainted with Lord Wesleigh. When Sedgewick left the room, Alexander clued Marcus in on the true state of affairs, explaining which of the Smithfield daughters he was interested in.
“I love it,” Marcus said, after having heard the whole story. “It has all the elements of a French farce. All we need is a jealous husband.”
“I could do without that complication,” Alexander replied. “So, how long should your business take?”
“Hopefully no more than a few days. There has been a highwayman causing a great deal of commotion in the area. I am here to apprehend him.”
“Yes, I have heard talk of him. He has the local ladies all aflutter. They are going to start lining up to be robbed by him if there is any more gossip about his lovemaking. He even managed to get a kiss from that iceberg Lady Cynthia.”
“That is an accomplishment,” Marcus said. “Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?”
“Well, you know I do not take defeat very well. Little did I know that all I had to do to steal a kiss from her was put on a mask and say ‘Stand and deliver.’” Both men laughed, before growing serious once more.
“I do not understand your involvement in this affair. Is not this a job for the local constable?” Alexander asked.
“It seems our highwayman is interested in more than jewelry. It appears he has somehow discovered the route our messenger takes when delivering assignments to the troops on the coast. He has been intercepting them and selling the information to the French. We want to discover who else is working with him.”
Alexander nodded. “I would be happy to assist you in whatever way I can.” Marcus thanked him for the offer, but reiterated that what he needed most was a place to stay. “Well, I guess Smithfield House is as good a place as any to hide out in for a few days. No one in that household should recognize you.”
Except, of course, the duke of Alford, who was en route to Stonehurst as they spoke.
The ladies of Smithfield House had heard the carriages arrive, and were sitting in the drawing room, awaiting the announcement of their distinguished guest. They assumed, it being Tuesday, the day he had written he would be coming, that the duke of Alford would be announced. There was a moment of stunned silence when Wiggins stated in a triumphant tone of voice, “Lord Wesleigh.” Wiggins knew his mistresses were expecting someone else, and it pleased him to surprise them. He always prided himself on knowing more about what was going on in the household than anyone else, even the mistress.
The ladies may have been able to recover themselves sooner if it were not for the strange sight that greeted them when “Lord Wesleigh” walked in the room. Marcus had changed his outfit to one he thought would better suit his new role. He felt a person in the full throes of the grippe should dress in a more subdued manner. To that end, he had discarded his turquoise and yellow, deciding in favor of puce and gray, with a paisley waistcoat. In order to give the impression that the sunlight was too harsh for his weakened eyesight, he was wearing a pair of green glasses. He held a handkerchief over his mouth and was feebly coughing into it as he walked into the room.
Lady Smithfield was the first to recover. “Lord Wesleigh, what a pleasant surprise, please sit down.” She tried to approach him to lead him over to a chair, but when she got closer he backed up, waving her away.
“Lady Smithfield, I beg your pardon”—cough, cough—“but I am quite ill. Please do not come any closer, we do not want to risk contagion.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Lady Smithfield retreated to her seat, racking her brain to try and remember the proper etiquette to follow when one had a guest who had a mysterious illness and would not allow one to approach him.
“I think that I shall be forced to spend the next few days in my room, until I recover from this humiliating illness. Perhaps, once I have been introduced to your charming daughters, you could conduct me to my room?”
“Of course, of course. Girls, come make your curtsy to Lord Wesleigh.” As Lord Wesleigh almost backed into one of the tables as the girls approached, Lady Smithfield hurriedly reminded them, “Not too close, mind.”
Lord Wesleigh pronounced himself charmed to meet first Lydia and then Emily. He started to lift his quizzing glass to peruse the girls more closely, when he saw Emily struggling to keep from giggling. Then he remembered the green glasses he was wearing. Never one to fear ridicule, he raised his quizzing glass anyway, and received a magnified view of Emily’s sparkling brown eyes, through a green haze.
The sight appeared to be too much for Lord Wesleigh. He dropped his quizzing glass, shuddered, and in a weak voice, asked, “My chamber?”
“Of course, my lord, Lydia will direct you to your chamber. Lydia, show Lord Wesleigh to the Green Suite, please.”
Lydia, who appeared just as pale as Lord Wesleigh, nonetheless followed her mother’s dictum. She left the room, Lord Wesleigh following. At the doorway of his chamber, feeling compelled to say something, she mentioned that he must be pleased his father would be arriving soon.
“What’s that? My father?” Marcus asked in stronger tones then he had employed thus far.
“Why, yes, he is to arrive today, is he not?” Lydia asked.
“Of course, of course. Just so.” Lydia left him, and Marcus took off his glasses and began a hurried note to Alexander “Williams,” which he dispatched with one of the servants to be delivered to the vicarage.
Soon after Lord Wesleigh’s arrival, Emily took a maid and went for a walk in the village. She had no real errands, but wanted an excuse to get out of the house. She felt after meeting the marquess that she had some thinking to do.
She did not want to admit to herself how disappointed she was with the marquess. She realized now that she had been deceiving herself all along. She had thought, when she offered to marry the marquess in her sister’s stead, that she was being practical and reasonable. Now she realized that she had been hoping the whole time that the marquess would turn out to be someone she could love and respect. “A knight in shining armor,” she muttered disgustedly to herself. She had been as impractical and unreasonable as it is possible for a silly, romantical nineteen-year-old girl to be.
