“Love, Mr. Grant.” Mrs. Higginbotham smiled. “It was entirely due to love.” She nodded at Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore. “But Reginald Everheart was originally Poppy’s creation.”
“And perhaps my most brilliant idea.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore beamed. “My husband is a wonderful man in nearly every respect, but he was somewhat slow to come to the realization that he and I were meant to be together. He needed a bit of a push.” Her eyes twinkled with delight. “What better way to encourage a man to step up and accept his feelings than a handsome, dashing rival.”
Wes chuckled. “What way indeed.”
“We resurrected Reginald a few years ago.” Lady Blodgett frowned. “When was that?”
“Seven years ago,” Mrs. Higginbotham said, “to serve the very same purpose for a young couple who were truly in love but let all sorts of silly things get in the way.”
He chuckled. “Remind me never to stand in the way of the three of you.”
“What a charming thing to say, Mr. Grant.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore smiled pleasantly.
Mrs. Higginbotham nodded. “You would be wise to remember that, young man.”
“Mrs. Higginbotham, I daresay it’s one thing I will never forget. Ladies.” He nodded and took his leave.
Wes grinned nearly all the way back to Uncle Nigel’s house. Not in his wildest dreams would he have imagined anything like the plots he had stumbled into tonight. His fate was now entwined with not one but four clever, charming, conniving women. It was going to be an interesting Christmas.
It wasn’t until he reached Uncle Nigel’s door that he realized the fatal flaw in Anabel’s plan. If Reginald Everheart had been used to encourage not one but two different men to propose, wasn’t it likely that Wesley’s attentions might just embolden Anabel’s Mr. Reed to do the same? This might be a little more difficult than he had expected.
Regardless, saving Anabel Snelling from an unwanted marriage might be well worth it for reasons that had nothing to do with his chronometer.
* * *
“I LIKE HIM,” Poppy said the moment the door closed behind Mr. Grant. “He has his father’s eyes.”
Effie sighed. “No, Poppy dear, he doesn’t.”
A worried frown creased Gwen’s forehead. “You haven’t forgotten that his father doesn’t exist?”
“Of course I haven’t.” Poppy frowned. “I am not in my dotage yet. But I have always thought of Reginald as having deep blue eyes exactly like Mr. Grant’s.”
“He is handsome enough and gallant as well, if he’s telling the truth.” Effie considered her friends. “But do we believe him?”
“I do,” Poppy said firmly.
“I shall call on Lord Maywood the first thing tomorrow, but I believe him, as well,” Gwen conceded.
Effie nodded. “As do I. And if he is who he says he is...”
“We can’t let the poor girl enter a loveless marriage.” Poppy shuddered.
Gwen nodded. “While some such unions turn out quite nicely, I’ve seen far too many women trapped for the rest of their lives with men they barely speak to.”
“One might say this is none of our concern,” Effie said slowly.
Poppy grinned. “That’s never stopped us before.”
“Doing what needs to be done for the greater good is always the right thing to do,” Gwen said firmly.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Effie breathed a sigh of relief and thought for a moment. “We will do whatever is necessary to support this charade of Anabel’s. But if Archie’s primary concern is to see his daughter happily wed, to a suitable candidate...”
“And if Mr. Grant is indeed who he says he is, he might be such a candidate,” Gwen added thoughtfully.
“But they’ve only just met.” Poppy’s gaze shifted from one friend to the other. “We have no idea if he’s taken with her or not.”
“Did you hear him speak about her?” Effie asked. “Certainly he mentioned her appearance—that lovely nonsense about emerald eyes and Christmas spice.”
“I rather liked that,” Poppy murmured.
“But he also mentioned her kindness, courage and intelligence.” Effie shook her head. “I’ve never heard a man who was not interested in a woman speak of her mind before.”
“You’re right.” Gwen nodded. “He is definitely intrigued.”
“And intrigued is only one step away from smitten,” Poppy added. “Magic is in the air at Christmas. Why, there’s no better time to fall in love.”
“Especially—” Effie grinned “—with a little help.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Wesley strode into his uncle’s parlor and pulled up short.
“There you are, Wesley,” Uncle Nigel said with a barely suppressed grin on his face. “I believe you know Lady Blodgett.”
Lady Blodgett was the last person he had expected to see today, although he should have known she and her friends would waste no time confirming his story. She sat primly on the sofa in his uncle’s parlor. “A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Grant.”
“Lady Blodgett,” Wes said warily. He had spent much of the morning at the British Museum, both to be prepared for any questions from Anabel’s father about their meeting and because he had long wanted to see one of the greatest museums in the world.
“She’s been telling me all about the...intrigue you’ve found yourself in.” Uncle Nigel sat in a chair near the sofa. He had the appearance of someone about to burst from suppressed laughter.
Wes’s gaze slid to Lady Blodgett, who smiled serenely. “Has she?”
“Oh my, yes.” Uncle Nigel chuckled. “I can’t say I blame you. Miss Snelling is a lovely young woman.”
“Your uncle agrees that no woman should have to marry if she doesn’t wish to.” Lady Blodgett smiled at Uncle Nigel. “Very progressive of you, my lord.”
“Don’t hold me to that should I ever have daughters of my own.” Uncle Nigel was his mother’s brother and was some ten years younger than she. He hadn’t yet married, but he was only in his late thirties. It was entirely possible he could have daughters someday. “I have assured Lady Blodgett as to your identity, as well as your character. Furthermore, I have agreed to keep your deception a secret. However—” he met Wes’s gaze directly “—I want no part in this.”
Wes nodded. “Understood.”
“She wishes a private word with you.” Uncle Nigel stood. “Lady Blodgett, it was a pleasure, as always.”
“Goodness, Nigel, you do say the most charming things.”
“It’s a gift.” Uncle Nigel grinned and started for the door, pausing beside Wes to speak quietly into his ear. “Be careful, my boy. This is the kind of plot that could end up with you at the altar.”
Wes scoffed. “You needn’t worry about that, sir. This is a deception to help a desperate woman. Nothing more than that.”
“It never is.” The older man cast him a knowing look and then took his leave, closing the door behind him.
“You needn’t stand there, staring at me as if I were some sort of apparition.”
“Sorry.” Wes cleared his throat. “I’m simply surprised to see you.”
Lady Blodgett’s brow rose. “You didn’t expect us to accept your connection to Lord Maywood without further determination, did you?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Well, you are who you say you are, so that’s something. I must say I am quite relieved.” She met his gaze firmly. “I thought last night you were a decent sort and I do hate to be wrong.”
“I’m glad my uncle could ease your mind,” Wes said with a fair amount of relief. “If that’s all—”
“Goodness, Mr. Grant, we’ve only just begun. Now, sit down.”
He quickly sat in the closest chair.
“Of course that’s not all.” She huffed. “My friends
and I have decided to help you. And Anabel of course.”
“Help us how?” This did not sound like an especially good idea.
She pulled an envelope from a small bag beside her on the sofa. “We spent a great deal of time last night trying to recall the adventures of Reginald Everheart that we might have mentioned during his final appearance in London. We’ve written down everything we can remember should you be called upon to speak about your father’s exploits. Especially by Sir Archibald. He’s quite an admirer of daring men of adventure, which is precisely why he’s a member of the Explorers Club, although he’ll never join an expedition of any kind. I understand you are to call on him today.”
Wes nodded.
She handed him the envelope. “You’ll find this rather vague, which we believe is always a good idea.”
“I would think so,” he murmured.
“You may embellish Reginald’s adventures as you wish, although it is our advice to avoid too many details. Details, Mr. Grant, in an endeavor such as this will always prove your undoing.”
“No doubt.” Just how many endeavors such as this had she and her friends undertaken?
“How old are you?”
He started to ask why she wanted to know but decided against it. Probably smarter just to answer her question. “Twenty-eight.”
“Then you would have been—” her brow furrowed “—twenty-one when Reginald died. You should be his oldest son. And if you do wish to have six brothers and sisters, you do need to have less obvious names for them. Ebenezer indeed.” She scoffed.
“It was the first thing that came to mind.”
“You shall have to do better.” She thought for a moment. “The information we have given you will help, but there is nothing that will serve this ruse of yours more than being imprecise and inexact. Perhaps you are still mourning his death and would prefer not to talk about him. Or possibly he never spoke of his adventures. He was so rarely home after all. That sort of thing.”
“Excellent advice, Lady Blodgett.”
“I have had some experience in these matters. Obviously—given Ebenezer and Bob and Tim—you have not.”
“Not really.”
“Good to know, Mr. Grant.” She rose to her feet and he stood at once. “One more thing. While I did tell your uncle about your deception with Anabel, I did not tell him the truth about Reginald. That secret is to remain between me, my friends and you.” She pinned him with a hard look. “Do you understand?”
“I do.” He nodded. “I promise you, I will never reveal the truth about Reginald Everheart.”
“Excellent, Mr. Grant. Your uncle has assured me you are a man of your word, but then I suspected as much.” She smiled approvingly. “We have included our addresses in the envelope. You will need understanding chaperones if you are to properly carry out your subterfuge. We expect to hear from you.”
He nodded.
“And do feel free to call on me or Mrs. Higginbotham or Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore—” she paused “—well, perhaps not Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore, but certainly Mrs. Higginbotham or myself should you need any additional assistance.”
“I’m confident that won’t be necessary.”
“The best-laid plans, Mr. Grant.” She cast him a pitying look. “You’d be wise to remember that, as yours and Anabel’s are not especially well laid.”
“Believe me, Lady Blodgett.” He blew a long breath. “I am well aware of that.”
* * *
“DO COME IN, Mr. Everheart.” Sir Archibald smiled from behind a massive, ancient desk that had probably been in his family for centuries and had surely been intimidating to those who had sat across from it for at least that long. He directed Wes to a chair positioned in front of the desk.
“Thank you, sir.” Wes crossed the floor to the chair indicated, trying to ignore the twisting of his stomach.
When he had arrived at the Snelling house in the Mayfair area of London, he had been relieved to note that, while this house was probably much older than his family’s house in Chicago, it was not substantially grander. It was somehow comforting to be on a more or less even footing with Anabel’s father. Of course, Wes’s nationality was probably a strike against him. Not that it mattered really, as this was nothing more than an act. Still, it certainly felt real.
He was confident enough in the merits of his chronometer that he had expected not to be nervous upon his first meeting with a director of the Explorers Club. And Wesley Grant, president of the Grant Watch and Clock Company, would not have been.
Wesley Everheart, the son of the mythical—and nonexistent—American explorer, who was wildly in love with Sir Archibald’s daughter, was a different matter altogether.
“Is this your first visit to London, Mr. Everheart?” The pleasant smile remained on Sir Archibald’s face but his gaze was sharp and assessing. Wesley had the distinct impression every move he made and every word he spoke would be counted for or against him.
“Yes, sir. It’s a fascinating city. I have always wanted to visit.”
“There is no better city on earth than London, although I suppose the citizens of Vienna or, God help us, Paris would probably say the same. Then, is the nature of your visit nothing more than your desire to see the city?”
“My primary purpose is business, sir.” Wes had read somewhere that the best way to succeed in any sort of deception was to make it as close to the truth as possible. Lady Blodgett would undoubtedly agree. “I’m here as a representative of the Grant Watch and Clock Company. I’m hoping to win the endorsement of the Explorers Club for a new chronometer designed to withstand the rigors of exploration and severe travel conditions.”
Sir Archibald’s brows drew together. “Did you make the acquaintance of my daughter in an effort to meet with me?”
“Absolutely not, sir.” Wes shook his head. “I had no idea she was your daughter when I first met her.”
“And now?”
“Now...” Wes chose his words with care. He met Sir Archibald’s gaze directly. “While I did not seek her out with an eye toward convincing you of the chronometer’s worth, I would be a fool if I did not use her acquaintance to my advantage.”
Sir Archibald stared at him for a long moment, as if challenging him to back down. Respect was as important as anything else in business dealings, as well as in all aspects of life. If Wes faltered now, he wouldn’t be able to help either Anabel or his own ambitions.
After an endless moment, Sir Archibald smiled. “Well said, Mr. Everheart. Perhaps we can talk about your chronometer later.”
“I am at your disposal, sir.”
“It appears you have engaged my daughter’s affections.”
“Did she say that, sir?”
“No, but it is apparent to me. As it was to everyone else at last night’s ball.” He paused. “You said your intentions were honorable. Was that something one only says when caught unexpectedly by a woman’s father, or do you really feel that way?”
Wes nodded. “I do.”
Sir Archibald waited.
Wesley had given this a great deal of consideration since last night. The only way to ensure Anabel would not have to face a proposal from one man was to make certain she had an offer of marriage from another.
He drew a deep breath. “I would be most humbly grateful if you would do me the very great honor of giving me your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Sir Archibald considered him for an endless moment. Wes forced himself to remain patient, although patience had never been one of his virtues.
“How well do you know my daughter, Mr. Everheart?” Sir Archibald said at last.
“Admittedly, not well but—”
“How long have you known her?”
“Not long but—”
“Are you aware there is another gentleman who has known her for some time and has expressed
an interest in marriage?”
“I am.” Wes nodded. “A Mr. Reed, I believe.”
Sir Archibald’s brow rose. “She told you about Douglas?”
“She did.”
“Then you realize you have a rival for her affection.”
“On the contrary, Sir Archibald.” He met the older man’s gaze firmly. “I don’t believe I do.”
“I see.” Sir Archibald paused. “Don’t you think this talk of marriage is somewhat premature? Shouldn’t you get to know one another a little better first?”
“Under ordinary circumstances perhaps, but these are not ordinary circumstances.” He leaned forward. “When you find the woman you are destined to be with, shouldn’t you do whatever is necessary to make sure you are indeed with her for the rest of your days? Love is not planned or expected. It sweeps you up in its grasp without warning. One minute you’re perusing a wall of names, and the next you’re staring into the most incredible green eyes you’ve ever seen.”
Sir Archibald frowned. “Wall of names? At the British Museum?”
“Names, dates, information about sculptures—that sort of thing.” Wes shrugged off the question. “What I’m trying to say is when something like this happens, your world changes in an instant. And you know without question, without doubt that there is nothing in the world more right, more perfect than to have found this woman you didn’t even know you were looking for.”
Wes wasn’t entirely sure where all that had come from. He’d never particularly considered the nature of love or the act of falling in love. He’d never given love a second thought at all. Yet everything he had just said seemed so right.
“That’s all very well and good, Mr. Everheart, and your point is well taken.” Sir Archibald paused. “I myself recall the feelings of inevitability when I first met my wife.”
“Then you understand, sir.” Wes settled back in his chair.
“I do indeed but one tends to become more practical as a father than one was in the throes of newfound love.” He shook his head. “And I’m certain you understand that I cannot simply turn my daughter over to a man she has just met.”
The Dance Before Christmas Page 4
