"Incognito" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allain Suzanne)

Chapter Seven

The duke had just dismissed his man and retired for the night when he heard the door to his chamber open and close. Before he could react, someone had placed a hand over his mouth and whispered to him to be still. The hand was removed, and the duke was considering crying for help despite the warning, when the candle at his bedside was lit and he saw his son standing above him.

“Alexander! Are you trying to give me an apoplexy?”

“No, sir, I apologize, but I did not want you waking the whole house.”

“I swear, your shenanigans are going to send me to an early grave.”

“I know, I know, I am a sad excuse for a son. You deserve a son more like . . . Sir Marcus Reddings, perhaps?”

“That is very amusing, Alexander. Very amusing.”

“I am sorry, sir. I know it is not a matter to joke about, and I apologize for involving you in this. However, I have a very good explanation for it all.”

“I know, I know. Sir Marcus explained the whole thing. It is all very romantic. I only hope the Smithfields are still speaking to us when the whole thing is over.”

“So do I.” Alexander’s tone was so serious that his father looked at him more closely.

“Why do you care so much for the Smithfields’ good opinion all of a sudden? Could it be you have come to appreciate Miss Smithfield’s sterling qualities?”

“I do admire Miss Smithfield’s sterling qualities. However, I find Miss Emily Smithfield’s more, ahem, corporal qualities practically irresistible.”

The duke smiled at his son’s admission. “I must admit, I spent the entire evening at dinner wondering if I had engaged you to the right girl.”

“So you approve my choice?”

“I am delighted. However, I cannot understand why you’re resorting to these underhanded tactics. It all seems like a lot of unnecessary tomfoolery. Why can’t things be like they were in my day? You saw a pretty girl you liked, good family, asked permission to court her, that’s that. I feel like a dashed idiot, accepting hospitality from a woman I am playing for a fool.”

“I know, Father, and I apologize again for putting you in this position. But, whatever the reason I started this charade, I want to finish it for a different reason. I know Emily Smithfield is the right girl for me. But she is very young, and I do not want her head turned by the attentions of the heir to a dukedom. I want to know that she chooses to spend the rest of her life with me for the same reason I choose to spend it with her: because she could not bear not to.”

“Well, I do not pretend to understand young people today, it seems to me you waste a lot of time and energy playing games when all you have to do is talk to each other. But I shan’t stand in your way. If you want to go round in circles, that is your prerogative.”

“Thank you, sir. Now you shall have a far more entertaining story to tell your grandchildren.”

“The way you are going about things, I am unlikely to see any grandchildren. Now go away, I have had a long day and need my sleep.”

“Yes, I heard you had an encounter with a highwayman this afternoon. Are you all right?”

“I am fine, he only hurt my dignity. It pained me to give the young whippersnapper my money. However, I always travel with a little extra in my boot, so I will survive. And if I need any more, I can always ask one of my sons for a loan.”

“Good night, Father. I can see you’re perfectly fine.” Alexander turned to go.

“Alexander, one more thing. I gave your friend Marcus one week only. I do not want to have to claim that dandy as my son for the rest of my life. I hate to give advice to a young Lothario like you, but you may want to speed things up a bit. Meet her in dark corners, bribe the maid to disappear . . .”

“Steal a kiss on a dark terrace, I understand. Despite your lack of confidence in my abilities, I am not a complete novice, you know.”

“Well, I had heard otherwise, but I am beginning to think the reports were highly exaggerated.”

“Thank you, Father. Good night.”

Alexander peeked out from behind the door to ensure no one was in the hallway and slipped out of the room. His father chuckled softly to himself before extinguishing the light.

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 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 enter 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.