Incognito

by Suzanne Allain

  “Oh, Lydia, I don’t know. Hopefully you will not have to be. I just mentioned it as a last resort. But, if there is no other alternative, there’s always Gretna Green.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth Emily knew she’d regret them. She had never before seen quite that expression of horror on her sister’s face. Surprisingly, it did not detract from her beauty. Lydia’s rosebud lips formed a perfect O, and her blue eyes widened attractively. Emily knew that if she tried to assume a similar expression, she would end up looking like a gargoyle. “Forget I even said anything about Gretna, Lydia. I am positive you will not need to elope. All we really need is to assure ourselves of Mr. Sedgewick’s feelings toward you, and then we can explain the impossibility of your marriage to the marquess. Now, what will you wear to the assembly?”

  Alexander was having similar difficulties with Sedgewick. He, too, was furious about having been abandoned with Lydia.

  “But I thought you enjoyed Miss Smithfield’s company,” Alexander exclaimed, the picture of innocence.

  “Of course I do, she is a well-behaved young lady, but that does not answer the fact—”

  “You do not have any interest in her beyond that?”

  “I am not sure I understand. What do you mean by that question? My feelings toward the lady are entirely proper—”

  “Yes, yes. I am sure they are,” Alexander assured him, while racking his brain to think of a way to force a confession from someone so concerned with respectability. “However, Miss Emily Smithfield intimated to me that Miss Lydia Smithfield may have an interest in you beyond mere friendship.”

  “Miss Smithfield said that?” For a moment Jonathan Sedgewick allowed a look of amazed delight to cross his features, but it quickly turned into one of suspicion. “Why would she tell you that?”

  “Apparently she thought that you may return her sister’s feelings, and she was concerned that her sister might be forced into an arranged marriage with me.”

  “So she knows that you are actually Lord Wesleigh?”

  “No, no, she doesn’t know. I meant she is concerned that her sister might be forced into a marriage with Lord Wesleigh.”

  “Why would she confide in you her feelings if she did not know you were he?”

  “Because she knew me to be your friend, and was hopeful that I could confirm that you returned her sister’s regard.” Alexander did not allow his exasperation to show on his face, but he wished his friend would just take him at his word and cease his interrogation.

  His wish was granted. A look of bemusement crossed Sedgewick’s face, and he grew so quiet Alexander thought he’d forgotten his presence. But, as Alexander watched him, he saw his friend’s expression change from elation to despair. “It is useless even to hope,” Sedgewick muttered.

  “But, why? It’s obvious you care for the lady, she returns your regard, the time-honored antidote for such a situation is marriage.”

  “But, her parent and your own wish for her to marry you. You have all the advantages, wealth, the title. What do I have to offer her? I cannot even compete.”

  “You do not have to,” Alexander replied. “I withdraw from the competition. I have no desire to marry a lady who is in love with another. However, I find myself reluctant to try to explain to my father and Miss Smithfield’s mother that as Lydia Smithfield is in love with another gentleman, I withdraw my suit. It would obviously be very embarrassing for the young lady with no proof that the gentleman in question returned her regard. Therefore, I need your assistance. You are going to have to put your luck to the touch at the local assembly.”

  Emily viewed her appearance in the mirror with approval. She knew that she was not up to London’s fashion standards, and she wished she were able to wear more vibrant hues than an unmarried miss was allowed, but she was definitely in looks. She was wearing the palest of pinks, almost white, which suited her coloring better than darker pink or white. Her gown was cut simply, the neckline forming a deep V, almost meeting the riband of darker pink under her bust, and she had on the pearl necklace her father had given her shortly before his death. She was pleased to see that Lydia looked charming as well, and did not feel, as she sometimes did, that Lydia’s appearance outshone her own. There was a happiness and excitement bubbling inside her that she felt nothing could dissipate.

  Emily tried to convince herself that the excitement she felt was on Lydia’s behalf, a sort of vicarious pleasure, but she knew it had much to do with the presence of a certain curate who behaved as if he were a lord.

  She found him puzzling, a mystery that needed solving, and wanted desperately to believe that was her sole interest in the gentleman. She could not be falling in love with a penniless curate. What kind of life could they have together? He did not even have a living, no real means of supporting a wife. Her family was not rich, by any means, but they were not impoverished, either, which she would be were she to marry Mr. Williams. But what was intriguing about Mr. Williams was that he did not behave as if he were impoverished. There was no deference about him, no false humility. He did not kowtow to Lord or Lady Abernathy, but behaved as if he thought he was their equal. Although he and Sedgewick were friends, Sedgewick seemed almost to defer to Mr. Williams. It was very odd. Emily felt sure there was more to Mr. Williams than there appeared. And she was determined to find out what it was.

  But that is my only interest in him, she assured herself. And found herself reassuring herself as soon as she saw him at the assembly that evening.

  He was with Jonathan Sedgewick, who looked pale as a ghost. Emily was not sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. It probably meant that Mr. Williams had spoken with him about Lydia, as he’d promised, but Sedgewick looked more as a man does when presented with his worst nightmare, not his fondest dream. Did Sedgewick not return Lydia’s regard?

  Emily looked at her sister and was reassured when she saw that Lydia resembled a frightened rabbit. She knew Lydia was in love with Sedgewick. The two must both be suffering from nothing more than an attack of nerves. It was up to her and Williams to smooth the lovers’ path. Her encouraging look in Williams’s direction was enough to bring him promptly to her side, offering to lead her out in the first dance. When she accepted, leaving Sedgewick alone with Lydia, they had no choice but to join the set that was forming.

  “They do not appear very eager, for two people in love,” Alexander said in a low voice to Emily.

  “I know. It is very odd. Perhaps they are both just shy. I am sure as the dance progresses they will warm up toward one another.”

  But as the dance progressed, Lydia and Sedgewick appeared to be going through the motions of the dance in utter silence. Sedgewick’s face was rigid and taut; Lydia would barely raise her head. Emily, who was enjoying her dance with Williams immensely, was disturbed by her sister’s odd behavior. Nonetheless, she whispered to Sedgewick as the motions of the dance brought them together: “Say something to her!”

  Sedgewick looked affronted, turned red, and clamped his jaws together even tighter.

  Emily sighed, and attempted to resume conversation with Mr. Williams, but noticed that he appeared distracted all of a sudden, and was barely managing intelligent replies to her attempts at conversation. She followed his gaze and was disappointed to see he was staring at Lady Abernathy’s party, which had just arrived. His attention appeared to be riveted on a particular blond lady, who, even from this distance, looked to be outstandingly beautiful and fashionable. “Lady Cynthia, I presume.”

  “What?” Her partner replied, finally shaken out of his reverie.

  “I presume that is Lady Cynthia you are craning your neck to get a glimpse of.”

  “I would not know, never having met the lady. However, I can assure you that I was not craning my neck to get a glimpse of her, as you so delicately termed my behavior. I have a far more stunning lady quite nearby, whose, ahem, charms are perfectly visible without requiring any neck-craning on my part.”

  Emily could tell fro
m the direction of his gaze what particular charms he was referring to, and felt a blush forming in that general vicinity. However, she would not be taken in by his silver tongue. “What gammon. I bet you could tell me how many golden strands she had on her well-formed head.”

  “Ah, that is where you are wrong. Even if I was admiring the lady, I would not have been admiring her hair, as I have always preferred brunettes over blondes.”

  Before Emily could think of a response to that outrageous statement, the music ended, and she was being steered to the French doors that led to the terrace.

  “Mr. Williams! Where are we going?”

  “You look flushed. I thought you could use some fresh air.”

  Giving her no chance to respond, he propelled her outdoors. “Now, isn’t this nice?” he asked Emily. Once again, though, he was not looking at her but was looking over her head into the assembly rooms. Emily tried to turn her head to see who or what had caught his attention and was pulled out of the light into the darker part of the gardens.

  “Mr. Williams, what are you—” Before Emily could finish the sentence she had been pulled abruptly into Mr. Williams’s arms, and he had covered her mouth with his own.

  Emily’s first thought was to struggle, which she did, putting her hands against his chest in an attempt to push him off. But his mouth on hers was gentle, unthreatening, and his hands on her waist were warm. She felt if she were being protected rather than assaulted, and she rather liked the feeling, so the hand she had raised to push him off curled around his neck and somehow ended up pulling him tighter.

  Alexander had felt her first attempt at resistance and was wondering what he would have done if she had pulled away and slapped him across the face. There would have been no avoiding Lady Cynthia in that case, who had followed them to the French doors and had peered out into the gardens, looking for him. But Emily’s initial resistance had turned into enthusiastic cooperation, and, after assuring himself that Lady Cynthia had returned to the assembly rooms without spotting them, he entered wholeheartedly into the embrace. Emily, who had just a moment earlier felt protected in his embrace, now felt that she was in the greatest danger of her life, as his lips, which had been gentle and tender, increased the pressure, and his hands, which had been resting casually at her waist, were somehow stroking her bare back and shoulders. Just as she was thinking she really needed to end the embrace, and yet how much she really did not want to, Alexander lifted his head.

  “I really should apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior, but I cannot honestly say I am sorry.” As Emily did not reply, but merely continued to stare at him, wide-eyed, Alexander laughed softly and kissed her on the tip of the nose. “I am afraid I must take my leave of you, Emily, but I am sure we will be meeting again shortly.”

  Emily gathered her scattered wits about her. “But where are you going? What about the rest of the assembly?”

  “The rest of the evening would seem unbearably flat in comparison with this experience, I assure you.” So saying, he kissed the top of her head and disappeared into the gardens. Emily, after staring into the darkness a few minutes, slowly returned to the assembly rooms. All the excitement had faded from the evening. “He is right,” she muttered to herself as she walked inside the doors and surveyed the scene before her. “The rest of the evening does seem unbearably flat.”

  She returned to her mother’s side, to find her in conversation with Lady Abernathy. “I thought the poor dear would have wanted to rest after her experience, but she assured me she was fine, and did not want to cast a pall over the rest of the party,” Lady Abernathy was telling her mother. “She even condescended to come to this assembly, although I’m sure after the fetes and balls of London this seems a sad comedown.”

  “Emily,” Lady Smithfield addressed her daughter, “poor Lady Cynthia Sommers, Lady Abernathy’s niece, was attacked by a highwayman en route from London this morning.”

  “How awful,” Emily replied. “She was not hurt, I trust.”

  “No, no, although I fear the dreadful man may have tried to take liberties with her.” Lady Abernathy lowered her voice. “I believe he attempted to embrace her.”

  “No!” Lady Smithfield said, in shocked accents. “How disgusting. Why, I do not know how I would react if a brigand treated one of my girls in such a shocking manner.”

  Emily wondered what her reaction would be if she knew that Emily had just been in a similar situation with a curate. Probably the same as if she had been embraced by a highwayman. Lady Smithfield viewed highwaymen and impoverished curates as being on about the same rung of the social ladder.

  “Yes, poor Cynthia. Thankfully she has a great deal of fortitude. Ah, it appears she is coming this way now. Let me introduce you both to my niece, Lady Cynthia Sommers.”

  The introductions were duly made, and Lady Abernathy and Lady Smithfield continued in conversation, leaving Emily and Lady Cynthia to converse. Emily did not have much of a desire to converse with Lady Cynthia, as she appeared even more haughty and disdainful up close than she did from afar. However, it appeared that Lady Cynthia did wish to talk with Emily.

  “Miss Smithfield, I happened to notice the gentleman you were dancing the last set with, and he reminded me quite forcibly of an acquaintance of mine, but he seems to have disappeared. The last I saw of him he appeared to have entered the gardens.”

  Emily tried with all her might not to do anything or say anything that might appear guilty or suspicious, because from the accusatory look Lady Cynthia was giving her, even if she did not observe Emily’s behavior on the terrace, she appeared to suspect her of misbehavior all the same.

  “Oh, do you know Mr. Williams? He specifically mentioned that he had not made your acquaintance. I am surprised you would number a country curate among your acquaintances, Lady Cynthia. But then again, he is rather distinguished-looking, even for a curate, is he not?”

  “A curate, you say? No, I suppose I have not made his acquaintance after all. Although he did look suspiciously like . . . Oh, well. I guess it’s as you mentioned. He does present a distinguished appearance, even for a curate.”

  One of Lady Abernathy’s party came to request Lady Cynthia’s hand for a dance shortly after this exchange, and Emily danced most of the evening as well. However, the conversation she’d had with Lady Cynthia continued to haunt her for a long time afterward. Mr. Williams had been paying close attention to Lady Cynthia, even though he claimed not to know her, and he had been observing someone even after he and Emily had left the assembly rooms. Lady Cynthia, by her own admission, had seen them go out onto the terrace. Had Williams been attempting to avoid Lady Cynthia? Is that why he pulled her into the shadows and embraced her? Was it just a ploy, to avoid discovery by Lady Cynthia?

  The more Emily thought about it, the more she was sure that Williams had been avoiding Lady Cynthia. He had become distracted the minute her party arrived, and he had ushered Emily out onto the terrace without a word of explanation, yanked her into the shadows, and kissed her, and then disappeared into the gardens without even a good-bye to his friend Sedgewick. She found herself growing more and more infuriated by the minute. Her first kiss, which had seemed so sweet and passionate, was nothing more than a prop in his scene with Lady Cynthia. She had meant nothing more to him than a hedge that he could hide behind.

  “That cad! That disgusting libertine!” Emily said under her breath, startling a gentleman who had approached her to ask her for the next dance. He looked bewildered and turned to Lydia instead, so Emily was free to pursue her own thoughts. She would never speak to Williams again. If he tried to approach her, she would give him the cut direct. She amused herself for a few minutes picturing the bewildered, hurt expression on his face as she proudly refused to recognize him, before realizing that that was a sorry revenge indeed. If she cut him, and never spoke to him again, how would she ever find out what secret he was hiding? Her best revenge would be to reveal his masquerade to the world and watch him reap his just deserts
. Yes, that was it. She would solve the mystery of Alexander Williams, for she was sure that whatever it was he was playing at, he was up to no good.

  Chapter Six

  Jonathan Sedgewick, who was already wishing his first guest anywhere but his own previously peaceful abode, was amazed to receive yet another unexpected visitor. This one, however, did not arrive by public coach. He arrived in a luxurious traveling carriage, with another carriage following behind him with servants and baggage. Jonathan and Alexander, who were taking their ease in the library, heard the commotion and looked at each other in confusion. Before Jonathan could rise from his chair, an apparition appeared in the doorway.

  The gentleman was blinding. From his flaxen hair to his shiny Hessians, everything about him was beaming. He was wearing a turquoise jacket of exquisite cut, with a canary yellow waistcoat covered in rosebuds. The huge diamond in his cravat reflected the many colors of his ensemble. “Don’t bother to get up, Sedgewick,” the apparition said, “it is Wesleigh I am here to see.”

  “Hullo, Marcus. How did you find me?” Alexander asked, unperturbed.

  “The estimable Jenkins. He was quite upset, old man, that you would leave him in London and descend upon the wilds of Stonehurst with no one to see to your sartorial well-being.” Marcus examined Alexander through his quizzing glass. “I see his fears were well-founded.”

  “Cut line, Marcus. What are you doing here?”

  “I am pretending to be you.”

  “What?” Alexander bellowed, jumping up from his seat.

  “Your pater told me you had gone to Stonehurst to court a young lady, but then Jenkins told me you went on the public stage, leaving him and the best portion of your wardrobe behind. Simmons mentioned Sedgewick, I put two and two together, and voilà! I came out with four.”

  “Is that an explanation? It sounds as though you put two and two together and came out with forty-six. What led you to think you should come masquerade as me?”