Incognito

Emily had been reading a Gothic before bed and could not sleep. Every time she started to doze off, she would hear some suspicious sound that caused her to bolt upright. She tried to convince herself it was only in her head, but that last noise had sounded remarkably like a creaking door. Fine. I’ll prove it to you, she told herself, lighting a candle and getting out of bed. It is all in your head. She opened her door and looked into the hall, just in time to see Alexander turn the corner.

She almost gasped at the sight of a strange man in her house, but the glimpse she had of him looked like Mr. Williams, so out of curiosity she decided to follow. He was moving very quickly, and ran down the stairs and out the back door before she could catch up with him, but as he ran out of the house the moon shone brightly on his face and she was sure it was he.

As she walked back up the stairs she wondered why Alexander Williams would be sneaking around her house. Really, none of his behavior made any sense whatsoever. First, he avoided Lady Cynthia, then, apparently, the duke of Alford, as she had come to the conclusion that was what had caused Alexander’s strange disappearance on High Street earlier that afternoon. Yet he did not avoid Lord and Lady Abernathy or Jonathan Sedgewick. What did Lady Cynthia and the duke of Alford have in common that made him run at the sight of them?

Except, of course, that they had both been victims of a highwayman. It hit Emily with all the force of a blow to the stomach. Alexander’s strange behavior, his expensive ring, and the fact that he acted nothing like a curate. His avoidance of Lady Cynthia and the duke of Alford, who could quite possibly recognize him and identify him. Alexander was the highwayman.

“No, it cannot be true,” Emily told herself, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I will not believe it.”

But what other explanation was there? He was probably at their house tonight in an attempt to steal from them as well. They were not rich, but there were a few expensive paintings that had not been part of the entail, and her mother had some nice pieces of jewelry that had been gifts from Emily’s father. That would explain Williams’s surreptitious behavior, sneaking out of the house. He was nothing more than a common criminal.

“No, there must be some other explanation.” Emily tried dearly to think of one. But it all fit; the highwayman’s attacks had started about the same time as Alexander’s appearance in the neighborhood, his manner was not at all that of a curate’s, and he had made no attempt since coming to Stonehurst to seek out a permanent living. Added to that was his avoidance of his victims and his strange behavior tonight. What other conclusion could she reach?

Also, there were the descriptions given of the highwayman: “A gentleman fallen on hard times,” “very gallant,” “he attempted to embrace Lady Cynthia.” That sounded just like Alexander. Stealing a kiss as he performed his “very gallant” thievery. “How could this be? How could I have fallen in love with a common thief?” Emily whispered to herself.

No—she shook her head—I am not in love with him. I refuse to love him, I am infatuated, that is all. She had known him less than a fortnight, and knew hardly more than his name. She had never been in love, but was sure love was born out of common experiences and interests, not physical attraction or because a pair of dark brown eyes looked at you as if you were the only person in the universe.

She was surprised to find, however, that infatuation hurt so very much. Almost as if her heart were breaking.

In the cold light of day, Emily’s suspicions of the previous night did not seem quite as credible, and she was not as convinced as she had been when she went to sleep that Alexander was the highwayman. But she still felt it probable, and determined to investigate the matter further. So she was pleased when the duke joined her at the breakfast table. Here was an excellent opportunity to quiz him about his meeting with the highwayman.

Unfortunately, the duke appeared to be one of those gentlemen who did not appreciate conversation at the breakfast table. After smiling at Emily and wishing her a good morning he seemed more than content to bury himself in the newspaper that he’d brought with him into the room. Emily was used to such behavior, as her late father had behaved in a similar manner. And she herself was not at her best in the morning, either. However, she felt a sense of urgency to discover the truth about Alexander Williams, and she might not have many other opportunities to question the duke.

“Excuse me, Your Grace?” It was tentatively said, and the duke did not appear annoyed by the interruption, as he just set aside the paper with a smile.

“I apologize, Miss Smithfield, I suppose I have grown accustomed to eating alone in the morning. A man can develop very bad habits when left to his own devices.”

“Oh, no, Your Grace, I understand perfectly; my father always enjoyed reading the paper with his coffee. I will not interrupt you for very long. I just wanted to ask you if you felt you would recognize the highwayman if you were to see him again.”

“What an odd question. What makes you ask such a thing?”

“Oh, just idle curiosity.”

“Well, to answer your question, he was wearing a mask, of course, so his features were hidden, but if I were to hear him speak, I might recognize him. He was a cocky fellow, and spoke almost with the accent of a gentleman. Seemed above average in height and appeared to have dark hair. I have given all these details to the magistrate, of course, but it sounds as if you have decided to do a little investigating on your own. Please be very careful, Miss Smithfield. This is a serious business.”

“Oh, no, as I said, it is only idle curiosity. I only wanted to know so that if I saw someone who fit the description, I could alert the authorities.”

“There is no harm in that, I suppose. However, I doubt you will recognize someone merely by my description of him. He did not have any outstanding characteristics, unfortunately. Now, if he was a hunchback with a peg leg, or red hair, then he would stand out in a crowd.”

“Yes, indeed,” Emily responded, smiling. “Although I doubt such a man would have a successful career as a highwayman.”

The duke laughed, and the subject was closed. Emily was greatly relieved, as she did not want to explain her interest in the highwayman to the duke. She should have known better to approach the subject as she did. It would have been less obvious had she brought the conversation round to the topic.

Lady Smithfield and Lydia came into the room together, Lydia still appearing greatly subdued and Lady Smithfield more than compensating for her daughter’s lack of animation. She could barely keep from shouting in triumph, “A duke at my breakfast table!” She managed to contain herself, however, and instead asked the duke if he had enjoyed a good night’s rest.

“Yes, thank you. I was exceedingly comfortable.”

“Good, good. Have you and your son any plans for the day?” Lady Smithfield asked.

“What’s that? Alexander? No, we have no plans to do anything together. I believe he plans to keep to his room. He is still suffering from his illness.”

“Such a shame. I understand just how he feels. My constitution is rather delicate as well. I do hope, however, that he will permit us to entertain him. Lydia has a very soothing voice in a sickroom, and she would be more than willing to read to him.”

Lydia looked less than willing, but did not object, and the duke hurried to assure Lady Smithfield that would be the very thing. “For Alexander is bound to get restless, staring at the walls all day, and if I had to hazard a guess, I would say he’s going to be laid up with his malady for at least a week.”

“Really? Does he usually contract the grippe for a week at a time?”

“Practically to the minute. And at the end of the week, he is so improved you would not even recognize him. He is a different person altogether,” the duke stated in such an odd tone that Emily looked suspiciously at him. He noticed her observing him, and she could have sworn he winked.

“Well, then, Lydia will entertain Lord Wesleigh, but that leaves you at loose ends, Your Grace. ’Tis a pity Sir John is no longer with us. However, if you would like, Emily and I would be more than happy to show you the local sights.”

“My dear lady, do not trouble yourself. I believe Lord Abernathy lives in the vicinity, does he not?” At Lady Smithfield’s assurance that he did, he continued, “There is a bill up for debate in the House that I’d like to discuss