Incognito

by Suzanne Allain

  “Yes, they do. If I were interested in Emily at all, romantically, I mean, I would be a trifle worried.”

  Alexander raised his eyebrows at this blatant hint. “Then it’s a good thing, I suppose, that you are engaged to Miss Lydia Smithfield and not her sister,” he said sardonically.

  “Yes, it is a good thing. However, other gentleman, who are not engaged, may lose out on the opportunity altogether.” Mr. Watkins’s loud laughter in response to Emily’s made-up story punctuated Sedgewick’s remark.

  “Oh, I am not so sure. Mr. Watkins is only a plain mister after all, and not, I assume, very plump in the pocket.”

  “He has a comfortable allowance,” Sedgewick replied, not knowing if it was true or not but, realizing he had picked rather a poor candidate for jealousy, felt it was his duty to make Watkins look as good as possible.

  “Comfortable is not good enough, my friend. Not for Emily Smithfield.”

  Sedgewick wished to rush to Emily’s defense, but they were interrupted at that point by Lady Cynthia, who complained of the heat. Alexander immediately offered to escort her to the gardens, where some fresh air might revive her. Sedgewick watched the scene with much agitation and went to consult with Lydia about what they should do now that their initial scheme had failed.

  The evening that had so promising a beginning was rapidly turning into the most horrid evening of Lady Smithfield’s recollection. Lady Abernathy had congratulated her on Lydia’s engagement, barely concealing her smirk of triumph. “I assume that there will be no notice in the Morning Post of her engagement to Lord Wesleigh, now that she’s engaged to Mr. Sedgewick,” she said, laughing at her poor attempt at humor. Lady Abernathy was so unused to laughing that the sound that issued from her mouth was more of a bray than an actual laugh. Lady Smithfield felt it the most unpleasant sound she had ever heard.

  “No, of course not. Although Lord Wesleigh was, of course, anxious to fulfill his father’s wishes, when we observed how attached Lydia was to Mr. Sedgewick, we could not permit the engagement to proceed, after all.” Lady Smithfield had been amazed when neither Lord nor Lady Abernathy had seen in Lord Wesleigh a resemblance to a certain curate. However, Lord Abernathy was a trifle shortsighted, and too vain to wear spectacles, and Lady Abernathy had paid little or no attention to a gentleman she had assumed was far beneath her notice. So they had merely proclaimed themselves delighted to meet Lord Wesleigh when introduced to him earlier in the evening, with never a mention of having met him last week at Lady Smithfield’s dinner party.

  “Then I imagine we will soon see another engagement announced,” Lady Abernathy said, nodding in the direction of the dancers.

  Lady Smithfield did not grasp her meaning at first. She wondered if Lady Abernathy could possibly be referring to Lord Wesleigh and Emily. But, when she looked in the direction Lady Abernathy was looking, she saw Lord Wesleigh and Lady Cynthia dancing together, and immediately understood what Lady Abernathy was implying.

  Lady Smithfield wanted to contradict this pronouncement right away, but there was no denying the couple appeared very familiar, Lord Wesleigh’s dark head bent intimately over Lady Cynthia’s fair one. So she said nothing. However, when the dance had ended, and Lord Wesleigh disappeared into the refreshment room with Lady Cynthia on his arm, her alarm grew. Every minute he was away from the ballroom with that hussy seemed like an hour, and she felt she could not sit still a moment longer. Leaving Lady Abernathy to her triumph, she went to find the duke.

  She finally found the duke in the card room, where he had retired after his obligatory dance with Lady Abernathy and his more enjoyable one with Emily. She had to wait impatiently for him to finish his hand, but he was soon finished and, seeing that Lady Smithfield desired a word with him, excused himself from the table.

  “What is it?” he asked her, as soon as they had distanced themselves a little from the others in the room.

  “Your son is paying most marked attentions to Lady Cynthia Sommers.”

  “Damn. I beg your pardon, Lady Smithfield, but that boy is enough to try the patience of a saint.”

  “You do not think he means to propose to Lady Cynthia?” Lady Smithfield asked fearfully.

  “That uppity yellow-haired chit? I do not think so. But he’d best be careful, for she means to get a proposal if I know anything about women.” He thought a moment in silence, while Lady Smithfield observed him in dismay. “Well, I promised I would not interfere, but he’s going to ruin the whole business if he’s not careful. I think I’d better have a talk with him.”

  Lady Smithfield murmured her agreement to this plan, and followed the duke from the card room into the ballroom, where they were treated to the sight of Lord Wesleigh walking through the French doors that led to the gardens, with Lady Cynthia on his arm.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alexander realized he had made a tactical error the moment he left the ballroom. Lady Cynthia had abandoned her haughty manner completely and was treating him with a flirtatious archness that made him very uncomfortable. His intention had been to use her to make Emily writhe with jealousy, as he had from Sir Marcus’s attentions to Emily. However, he had obviously not been thinking very clearly, because it was apparent from the way Lady Cynthia clutched at his arm that she had completely mistook his casual flirtation for something more serious.

  “There,” he said, barely ten feet from the ballroom. “I am sure you are feeling more the thing now. Let us return to the ballroom.” He attempted to steer her in that direction, but she was not as fragile as she looked, and it was plain she had no intention of being led back into the ballroom.

  “You are mistaken. I am still quite light-headed,” she drawled, laying her head against his arm.

  “Then I am sure you must want your aunt. Allow me to fetch her for you,” Alexander said, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

  “You are not very perceptive this evening. You must be aware that I do not want my aunt in the least,” Lady Cynthia replied, glancing up at him through half-closed eyes. She had perfected that look in the mirror, and had found it useful on many occasions to bend a recalcitrant gentleman to her will. Alexander thought she looked as if she had had too much to drink. He was quite relieved to hear that someone had exited the ballroom after them, and turned around quickly to see who it was.

  Lady Cynthia, who had been practically reclining on Alexander’s arm, was startled when he withdrew his support, and she stumbled. She was quite annoyed when, as she attempted to regain her balance, she accidentally stepped on the flounce of her dress. There was a loud ripping sound, and to make her frustration complete, she looked up from an examination of her dress to see Emily Smithfield grinning at her predicament. While Emily felt sorry that Lady Cynthia had damaged her dress, she had been unable to completely hide her amusement at the sight of the graceful and elegant Lady Cynthia reeling about like a drunken sailor.

  Before Lady Cynthia could speak, Alexander hailed Emily and her companion enthusiastically. “Miss Smithfield and, I believe it’s Mr. Watkins, is it not? What good luck in running into you like this.”

  “I believe we have interrupted your, um, conversation,” Emily said, her implication plain.

  “How astute of you—” Lady Cynthia began, in her haughtiest manner, only to be interrupted by Alexander.

  “Nonsense. Your arrival is most fortuitous. Lady Cynthia has had an accident and needs to repair her dress. I am sure she would appreciate it immensely if you would escort her to the cloakroom, Mr. Watkins. I just remembered that I had promised to convey a message to Miss Smithfield.”

  Lady Cynthia would have protested, but Alexander practically shoved her at Mr. Watkins, and, as Mr. Watkins had no objections to the scheme, Lady Cynthia found herself being returned to the ballroom by her insignificant escort. Mr. Watkins, who had only five minutes ago lost his heart irrevocably to Emily, decided he had been overly hasty and spent the rest of the evening trailing after Lady Cynthia, much to her dismay.

&n
bsp; They were met on their way into the ballroom by Lady Smithfield, the duke, Lydia, and Sedgewick, who were quite surprised, and a little cheered, by the sight of Lady Cynthia and Mr. Watkins together. The group proceeded down the path and very quickly caught sight of Emily and Alexander, standing in the middle of a walk by a statue of a Greek goddess. As Alexander and Emily had not observed them, and none of the party wished to interrupt the couple, they quickly positioned themselves behind some bushes and shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation.

  Alexander was telling Emily in a voice that sounded more like that of an irate parent than a lover that she had some explaining to do.

  “I beg your pardon?” Emily said, in her best imitation of Lady Abernathy.

  “And so you should. What were you doing walking alone in the gardens with that young puppy?”

  “I believe, sir, that you were also walking alone in the gardens with a companion who, if I were to continue your use of animal appellations, I would term a cat.”

  There was a snicker from one of the bushes, hastily suppressed.

  “There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that, my girl,” Alexander said.

  “Oh?” Emily asked, and Alexander found himself having to provide an explanation of his behavior, without ever receiving one from Emily.

  “It was entirely your fault that I was walking out here with Lady Cynthia.”

  “Really? And was it my fault as well that she was resting her head on your arm?”

  The duke nudged Lady Smithfield, whispering to her that their suspicions of Lady Cynthia were correct, and that she was a hussy of the first order.

  “Yes, it was,” Alexander replied, folding his arms in front of his chest and looking smug.

  “Perhaps I am singularly dull-witted, but I really do not see what your assignation with Lady Cynthia has to do with me.”

  “It was part of an obvious attempt to make you jealous, and I do not think I flatter myself when I believe that I succeeded.”

  Emily tried to control the racing of her heart at this leading speech, and hoped she managed to look as cool and collected as Alexander.

  “Well? Did I succeed?” Alexander asked, who was not as composed as he appeared.

  Emily turned and began walking aimlessly down the path, farther away from the house, much to the dismay of her audience, who scrambled to follow without being observed. She finally stopped and sat on a stone bench that, fortuitously enough, was backed by a hedge. Alexander sat beside her, a little closer than she thought was safe, as she felt there was some danger of her poor beleaguered heart jumping out of her chest.

  “Emily,” Alexander said, in a wheedling tone, as he took her hand in his, “you still have not given me an answer.”

  “I will admit to being a little jealous,” Emily said, too shy to meet Alexander’s eyes, “if you tell me to what purpose you tried to make me so.”

  “I already made that plain, I thought, when I offered for you a few days ago. Perhaps I am foolish to think that your feelings have undergone any change since then.”

  “No, they have not.”

  “I see,” Alexander said, dropping Emily’s hand.

  “I love you as much now as I did then,” Emily replied softly.

  It took Alexander a few minutes to react to this statement, as he was nearly incapable of assimilating such a declaration. When he finally realized what she had said, he turned to her in disbelief. “Then why, my girl, did you refuse me? Didn’t you love me enough to marry me believing me to be a curate? I would have married you had you had been a scullery maid in your mother’s house.”

  “I do not believe that.”

  “Well, maybe not a scullery maid, but had we both been as poor as church mice, I would have still married you, even if we had to wait years before it was possible. I cannot believe that you did not feel the same.”

  “I did not refuse you because you were a curate. Believe me, if I had thought you to be something as respectable as a curate, I would have accepted you gladly.”

  “I do not understand. What did you think me to be if not what I said I was?”

  “I thought . . .” Emily paused, and looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I thought you were the highwayman,” she said finally, so softly that Alexander was not sure he had heard her correctly.

  “Did you say you thought I was the highwayman?” Alexander asked incredulously, to the satisfaction of his audience, who had been unable to hear Emily’s remark and were pleased to have it repeated.

  Emily nodded, looking up at him to observe his reaction. To her relief, he appeared more amused than angry.

  “Is that why you asked all those questions about the source of my income?” he asked, smiling.

  “Yes. And you must admit I had reason to be suspicious. You were attempting to hide your identity as Lord Wesleigh, and, as it was obvious you were hiding something, and I had no way of knowing you were really Lord Wesleigh, I assumed you were someone else. The only person I knew of whose identity was as yet undiscovered was the highwayman. I think it was a very logical conclusion to arrive at, under the circumstances,” Emily said defensively.

  “My poor girl,” Alexander said, putting one arm around her and squeezing her gently. “You must have had a horrible time of it, and all the while I was accusing you of being heartless and mercenary.”

  Emily just nodded her head, which had somehow found its way under his chin, to rest on his chest. “It’s all my fault for being such a romantic fool,” Alexander told her. “I wanted to know that you loved me for myself and were not just interested in my fortune.”

  “Why, if that were all I was interested in, I would have made up to Sir Marcus while he was posing as you.”

  “You forget, I accused you of that as well. And if you did not make up to him, why did he propose to you?”

  “I have no idea. It came as a complete surprise to me.”

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the comfort of their embrace, while Alexander thought over the events of the past week in the light of this new information.

  “So why did you follow Sir Marcus and me the night we went to catch the highwayman?”

  “I had to convince myself my suspicions about you were correct. I thought you were out on another stealing spree.”

  “With Sir Marcus?”

  “I did not quite understand why he was present, and hoped that it signified I had made a mistake about you. Or, alternatively, I thought he might have been joining you for a lark.”

  “Why did you not tell me after I rescued you that you had thought me the highwayman?” Alexander asked.

  “I was afraid you would be horribly insulted. I did not realize you would think it so amusing, or you may be sure I would have told you immediately. However, after I found out the next day that you were actually Lord Wesleigh, I deeply regretted not telling you of my suspicion. I thought that you would never believe me after that, suspecting me of lying because I wished to marry you for your fortune.”

  “And do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Wish to marry me, for any reason other than my fortune.”

  “Is this a proposal? Because I must say, I enjoyed your first one far more, even when I suspected you of being a highwayman. And Sir Marcus, although he got a bit off the subject, interspersed his insults with a few compliments as well.” Alexander did not answer, intent instead on kissing the spot on her shoulder where he had been watching a curl bounce the last ten minutes. Emily, although pleasantly diverted by the tingle down her spine, was distracted by some noises that appeared to be issuing from the bushes to her left. She thought she heard someone complaining that they could not see what was happening, and opening her eyes, she saw her mother’s head appear from around the hedge. At first she was embarrassed to have been observed by her mother in a gentleman’s embrace, but as the duke and then Lydia and Sedgwick joined her mother, she began giggling. Alexander, oblivious to everything but his rising passion, looked at
Emily in disapproval.

  “You promised me, my girl, that you would attend to your next proposal with the gravity of a pallbearer,” he reminded her.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” she replied demurely, “but once again the Bellingham Ladies Academy has failed me.”

  “In what respect?” Alexander asked, a little impatiently.

  “They failed to instruct me on the proper way to react when embracing a gentleman and then discovering my entire family observing me from behind a hedge.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alexander asked, and Emily told him to take a look behind him. He did, and saw his father, Lady Smithfield, Lydia, and Sedgewick standing there, all of them looking a little sheepish. His father was the first to regain his savoir-faire and, approaching his son, asked if he could be the first one to wish him happy.

  “I would be happier were I allowed some privacy with my betrothed, but thank you,” Alexander said. “How long have you all been standing there?”

  “Only a few seconds,” the duke replied.

  “Yes, I believe they were behind the hedge before that,” Emily said, very tongue-in-cheek.

  Lady Smithfield felt the wisest course would be to change the subject, and ran to embrace her daughter. “Emily, I could not be happier for you,” she said, pulling her up from the bench. Alexander rose as well, and found himself being clapped on the back by Sedgewick.

  “Congratulations, old man. It appears we’re going to be brothers.”

  There was an excited jabber of congratulations, and questions about who would be married first and where, while Alexander and Emily exchanged a look of disbelief. It appeared no one was going to offer an explanation for the family’s presence behind the hedge.

  “Excuse me,” Alexander said, cutting into all the babble. “While Emily and I are overjoyed that we have everyone’s approval of our engagement, we feel that an explanation is in order.”