“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 with him, so I arranged to call on him today. I will have plenty to keep me occupied the next week, I assure you.”
“And you will want to visit with your son, as well, I expect.”
“Of course, of course. However, with such a charming young lady seeing to it that he is well entertained,” the duke said, smiling in Lydia’s direction, “I doubt he’ll want my grizzled old visage in his sickroom.”
Lydia smiled wanly in response to the compliment, but when Lady Smithfield cleared her throat, she hurried to remark, “I am pleased to be of assistance, Your Grace.”
Emily thought her sister looked about as pleased as if she’d been told she was going to the guillotine, and wondered what she was portraying at the moment. Noble martyrdom, it appeared. Apparently Lydia felt there was no point in trying to resist their mother’s efforts at matchmaking and was playing this new role to the hilt. Emily herself felt that neither she nor Lydia should be forced to marry Lord Wesleigh, but found herself more preoccupied with the mystery of Alexander Williams.
It was for that reason that she accompanied Lydia to Lord Wesleigh’s chamber later that morning. Alexander had admitted to a close friendship with Lord Wesleigh in one of their earlier conversations; this was Emily’s chance to discover more about the gentleman. Also, poor Lydia needed a chaperone, and moral support.
So it was Emily who tapped on Lord Wesleigh’s door and opened it in response to his feeble, “Yes?”
“Good morning, Lord Wesleigh. Your father mentioned that you may be in need of a diversion, so Lydia and I have come to pay you a visit.”
“My father mentioned that, did he?” Wesleigh drawled, and reached with one hand under the covers.
If he pulls out his quizzing glass I shall scream, Emily thought. Sure enough, the quizzing glass was found and retrieved.
“Well, come in, come in. Mustn’t stand in the doorway. You are liable to create a draft. Drafts are very damaging to someone in my condition.”
Emily walked calmly into the room, but Lydia eyed the man in the bed with trepidation and entered the room most reluctantly. “He is not going to eat you, you know,” Emily whispered to her sister, who gave her a look of reproach and schooled her features into a travesty of a smile that Emily felt made her usually beautiful sister look downright ugly. The man in the bed apparently shared Emily’s sentiments, for he dropped his quizzing glass abruptly and turned with a look of impatience toward Emily.
“How are you feeling today, Lord Wesleigh?” she asked.
“Ghastly. I am sure I shan’t be able to leave this chamber for a sennight, at least.”
“Your father mentioned the same at breakfast this morning. Lydia thought to entertain you by reading to you. Would you enjoy that, Lord Wesleigh?” Emily thought to annoy him by speaking in the hearty tones of a governess to an unruly charge, and was rewarded by seeing his lips twitch into a semblance of a smile.
“I am not deaf, you know, just afflicted with a bad case of the grippe,” he confided to her, neglecting to use the foppish drawl that had so annoyed her previously.
“I am relieved to discover you are neither deaf nor dumb, Lord Wesleigh,” Emily replied, and smiled her first genuine smile at him.
The sight of that impish smile sent him reaching for his quizzing glass again, as if in protection, but before he was able to raise it to his face the young lady shocked him by removing it from his grasp.
“See here, Miss Smithfield—” he sputtered.
“I am sorry, my lord, but it is for your own good. I have just recently discovered that you are neither deaf nor dumb, and it is my suspicion you are not blind, either. However, if you persist in distorting your eyesight, you will find yourself wearing spectacles prematurely. I will just set your weapon, excuse me, quizzing glass, here on the table, where you can retrieve it when you are feeling more the thing.”
“You, my girl, are a minx,” he told her, looking much like a spoiled boy denied his favorite toy.
“And you, my lord, are a fraud. Now, I will leave Lydia here to read to you, and send Bess up to chaperone, as I feel I do not have the type of soothing presence that is desirable in a sickroom, as you would no doubt agree, my lord.” She ignored the look of reproach from both parties in the room and slipped out. She would quiz Lord Wesleigh about his friend on another day. All of a sudden, her suspicions had seemed quite absurd. Such a foppish young man as Lord Wesleigh could not be the friend of a hardened criminal.
She peeked in the room an hour later to find Lydia gone and Lord Wesleigh in conversation with Alexander Williams.
“Oh, excuse me, I did not realize you had a guest.” She turned to leave but was stopped by Williams, who had risen from his seat at her entrance.
“Please stay. We would welcome your company. Lord Wesleigh was just telling me how much he admires your sister.” Alexander grinned down at Sir Marcus, who returned the look with a grimace. He had said nothing of the sort. In actuality, he had spent the ten minutes of Alexander’s visit complaining about the girl.
“She reads with as much animation as a dashed corpse,” he had told Alexander. “Which was bad enough, as I had the deuce of a time trying to stay awake, but, when I finally gave up the struggle and dozed off, I awoke to find her standing above me, her eyes welled up with tears. It was demmed embarrassing. I didn’t know which way to look. ’Pon my word, Wesleigh, the girl walks around like a deuced martyr.”
Alexander had laughed at the scene his friend had described, but he knew something had to be done about the situation. Apparently Lydia was as opposed to the match as he. The sooner this tangle was unraveled, the better.
At the moment, however, Emily was looking at him and his friend with suspicion writ large in her beautiful brown eyes. She had noticed the look they had exchanged and thought the gentlemen might be sharing a joke at her or her sister’s expense. “My sister has many admirable qualities,” she said, in response to Alexander’s comment.
“She does, indeed.” Alexander agreed. “However, I would much rather discuss your admirable qualities. I thought your performance on the pianoforte at dinner the other evening was very good, but what I just overheard was brilliant. Was that you playing just now?”
Emily looked embarrassed at his comment. “Yes, I was playing, and while I thank you for the compliment, it is undeserved. I practice too sporadically to be truly good. I find myself playing mostly when I want to work out something in my mind.”
“Your thoughts must be quite tumultuous to inspire the performance I just heard. Perhaps it would help if you shared them.”
Emily looked over at Lord Wesleigh, who was listening to her interchange with Williams with great interest. “I do not think so, Mr. Williams, but thank you for your concern.”
“I am concerned. I want you to know that I will always stand your friend, Miss Smithfield,” Alexander said, looking at her intently.
Emily was embarrassed by his look. It was obvious he was being sincere, but there seemed to be another message in the eyes that stared piercingly into hers. She felt very uncomfortable with Lord Wesleigh there.
“Thank you, Mr. Williams,” she managed to reply, and then, in an attempt to lift the serious mood that had descended upon them, she said, “However, I fear Lord Wesleigh is not as kindly disposed toward me.” She paused, and both Williams and Wesleigh looked at her in inquiry. “I stole his quizzing glass.”
Alexander’s lips twitched, but he remarked solemnly, “My dear girl, that is a heinous crime indeed.”
Wesleigh roused himself to en
ter into the discussion. “Not a laughing matter, Alexander. The young lady forcibly removed my property.”
“Poor chap,” Alexander responded sympathetically, “I suppose you were unable to defend yourself in your weakened condition.”
“Quite so,” Wesleigh replied, his sullen, childish expression quite at odds with the elegance of his ruffled nightshirt and satin dressing gown. Emily’s and Alexander’s eyes met, and Emily had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
It was probably fortunate that Bess arrived on the scene before Emily could wound Wesleigh’s tender sensibilities any further. “Excuse me, miss, but Lady Abernathy and Lady Cynthia Sommers are downstairs and are wishing to see Lord Wesleigh.”
Emily watched as Alexander and his friend exchanged a look, and wished she knew what they were thinking. It was obvious that Lady Cynthia’s name had affected both of them in some manner. “Should I instruct Bess to bring the ladies up to your chamber, Lord Wesleigh?”
“No!” both men shouted in unison. Lord Wesleigh recovered himself first. “My dear girl,” he said, affecting the foppish drawl that so annoyed Emily, “I am already feeling quite fatigued from the number of visitors I have entertained this morning. I could not possibly see anyone else in my weakened state.”
“Of course not,” Emily agreed. “We would not want you to suffer a relapse.” Wesleigh looked at her with suspicion, but she returned the look with one of bland innocence. “Well, I suppose I should go downstairs and inform our guests you are not able to see them. I hope they are not too disappointed. Would you care to join me in the drawing room, Mr. Williams?”
“Um, no. No, thank you. I have a few more items to discuss with Wesleigh here.”
Emily nodded and turned to leave. At the door she turned back. “You know, I just remarked upon the fact that you two have the same first name. Aren’t you both named Alexander?”
Mr. Williams and Lord Wesleigh both looked blank for a moment, before Williams replied. “Yes, you are right. In fact it is a source of great amusement to our close friends. It can cause quite a bit of confusion in conversation.” Williams managed a lame grin, and Wesleigh roused himself to smile as well.
“Quite a coincidence, what?” he asked. “Although I prefer Marcus, one of my second names, to Alexander. There’s something quite supercilious-sounding about the name Alexander, don’t you think?”
“Well, it is rather a mouthful, and it does put one in mind of a Greek conqueror,” Emily replied, looking over the duo closely before again turning to leave. She wondered what it was about her innocent question that had produced such an odd reaction. Shaking her head, she followed Bess down the stairs to the drawing room.
Chapter Eight
Emily checked her appearance in the hallway mirror before proceeding into the drawing room. She was irritated with herself at the gesture, but she could not help herself. She found Lady Cynthia’s cold perfection quite intimidating. Whatever confidence her reflection gave her was dispelled the moment she entered the drawing room. Lady Cynthia was quite the lady of fashion, in a sky-blue morning dress that matched her eyes perfectly. Well, perhaps not perfectly. Her eyes resembled ice more than they did sky.
“Good morning, Lady Abernathy, Lady Cynthia. How kind of you to call. Unfortunately, Lord Wesleigh does not feel well enough to receive visitors.”
“Really. He told you so himself, I presume.” Lady Cynthia replied.
“Yes, of course. He asked me to convey his regrets, but he feared a relapse of his illness were he to entertain visitors.”
“And he told you this while you were visiting him?” Lady Cynthia met Emily’s glance with a limpid stare.
“It was a brief visit, I assure you. There was not enough time for me to compromise him, or for him to propose marriage, if that is what you fear.” Emily realized her remark was rather shocking, but she was beyond caring. What could Lady Cynthia do to her? She had forgotten Lady Abernathy’s presence.
“Well!” that august lady proclaimed in loud accents, looking down her long nose at Emily.
“I apologize, Lady Abernathy. I must have misunderstood Lady Cynthia’s concern. I am sure her interest in Lord Wesleigh’s well-being is the same as it would be for any unfortunate victim of the grippe, and is not reserved for wealthy heirs to a dukedom.”
As the apology was as offensive to Lady Cynthia as Emily’s initial remark, it was not to be expected that Lady Cynthia’s anger was assuaged by this reply. However, as she felt Emily was entirely beneath her notice and not attractive enough to be a serious rival, she merely smiled a superior smile, and replied, “Just so.”
There was a definite chill in the air as Lady Smithfield and Lydia entered the room. They greeted their guests graciously and apologized for their delay in joining them. “But I am sure Emily and Lady Cynthia took advantage of this opportunity to get to know one another better,” Lady Smithfield remarked, oblivious to the tension in the room.
Emily reflected that her mother was right; she had gotten to know Lady Cynthia better. She was a materialistic, scheming snob, determined to entrap Lord Wesleigh into marriage. Emily conveniently forgot that she herself had had such an ambition only a few days previously. Now she had no interest in the marquess beyond that of a guest in her home. However, as much as his dandified ways annoyed her, he did not deserve such a wife as Lady Cynthia.
Lady Smithfield and Lady Abernathy assumed the burden of the conversation, but it was soon clear that they were to get on no better than Emily and Lady Cynthia.
“My dear Lady Abernathy, you have heard, of course, that we have two distinguished guests at the moment.”
Lady Abernathy regally inclined her head. Lady Smithfield was not dissuaded by her visitor’s lack of enthusiasm.
“The duke of Alford, and his son, Lord Wesleigh. The duchess and I were at school together, you know.” Lady Abernathy gave a second nod, an almost imperceptible move of her head. “Lady Abernathy, as we are such good friends, perhaps I can share something with you. In strictest confidence, of course.” Lady Abernathy’s nod was a little more vigorous, and she allowed a slight gleam of interest to appear on her craggy countenance.
Lydia and Emily exchanged horrified glances. “Mama,” Emily ventured, in a voice of warning.
“It is all right, Emily. I was just going to tell Lady Abernathy of the duchess’s wish, and mine, that Lydia and Lord Wesleigh marry. That is no secret, in any case.”
“Hmmph.” In a less refined lady, what Lady Abernathy did might be termed a snort. “I feel I should warn you that you are destined for disappointment.”
Lady Smithfield’s pleasant expression slipped just a little. “I am sure I do not know what you mean, Lady Abernathy. Why do you feel I will experience disappointment?”
“Because Lord Wesleigh has been paying very marked attentions to my niece, Lady Cynthia.” Lady Abernathy turned to Cynthia for confirmation, and it was Lady Cynthia’s turn to give an imperceptible nod of her head.
“Of course, one does not brag of one’s conquests,” Lady Cynthia began with a little trill of laughter.
“Then why is she doing so?” Emily whispered to Lydia.
“But, I must admit,” Lady Cynthia resumed, with a glare at Emily, “that before Lord Wesleigh left London, all of London society was in daily anticipation of a notice in the Morning Post.”
“Really? Had they lost something?” Emily asked, in feigned innocence.
“Of course not. They were in anticipation of a notice of Lord Wesleigh’s betrothal to myself.” Lady Cynthia lowered her eyes in a well-simulated display of maidenly modesty. “I am sure it was immodest of me to admit to such a thing. Pray do not discuss it with anyone.”
“Well, if all of London is speaking of it, I do not see what good it would do for us to hold our tongues.” Emily spoke ostensibly to Lydia, but in a voice loud enough to be overheard by all the inhabitants of the small drawing room.
Before Lady Cynthia could devise some cutting remark, Lady Smithfiel
d had arisen from her seat, and to Lady Cynthia’s dismay, had crossed to her side to sit beside her. “My poor, dear child,” she said, taking one of Lady Cynthia’s hands in her own, “I hope your feelings are not deeply engaged.”
Before Lady Cynthia could respond, Lady Abernathy entered the conversation. “Really, Elizabeth, what a vulgar remark.”
Lady Smithfield turned in surprise to Lady Abernathy. “But, Mildred, surely it is obvious what is happening here. Lord Wesleigh has been trifling with the affections of your poor niece.” She turned back to Lady Cynthia. “I am sorry, my dear, to mention it so abruptly, but that is why I inquired first as to whether your feelings were seriously engaged.”
“Madam,” Lady Cynthia replied, wrestling her hand from Lady Smithfield’s grasp, “I fear you are mistaken.”
“Oh, no,” Lady Smithfield said, still looking at Lady Cynthia with sympathy, “you see, the duke and his son are visiting us with the purpose of making an alliance with our family.”
Emily, who had realized that her mother had reached the limit of her endurance, was not surprised by the announcement. Lydia did not appear surprised, either. As she was wont to walk about in a state of continual despair for the past week, her countenance did not change noticeably.
The same could not be said of Lady Abernathy and Lady Cynthia, who both had similar expressions on their aristocratic faces. It was quite enlightening to Emily, who felt she was getting a glimpse of what Lady Cynthia would look like in forty years. More than ever did she pity the poor man who would tie himself to Lady Cynthia.
“How absurd!” Lady Abernathy stated, the first to regain her composure. “You have misunderstood the situation, I am sure.”
Lady Smithfield drew herself up in affront. “Are you implying that I am a liar, Lady Abernathy?”
“Of course not. Merely confused.”
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