Incognito Read online

  “Emily, come make your curtsy to His Grace, the duke of Alford.”

  Emily did not even have time to check a mirror, and hoped the walk had not left her hair in disarray. She patted it nervously, walking into the drawing room. She saw a distinguished-looking man of middle age, above average in height. He was a little thick around the waist, but other than that and the gray mixed in with his dark hair, he looked remarkably well for a man with a thirty-year-old son. He had arisen upon Emily’s entrance, and she sank into a curtsy before him.

  “Well, well, Lady Smithfield. You are blessed indeed. Two beautiful daughters. I see now why you choose to rusticate in the country rather than bring them to London. You would be the envy of every mother with a marriageable daughter.” The duke smiled kindly at Emily, and she smiled back. She had expected a male version of Lady Abernathy and was pleased to find that he was not arrogant at all.

  Lady Smithfield giggled in response to the duke’s little sally, thanking him for the kind compliment, before turning to Emily and telling her that His Grace would be retiring to his room shortly, as he had been attacked by a highwayman on the journey down from London and wanted to rest a bit before dinner.

  Before Emily had a chance to respond, Lady Smithfield continued, “Really, I cannot think what the world is coming to these days. You are the second person I know who has been the victim of that highwayman in the past week. Perhaps you know Lady Cynthia Sommers? Her carriage was attacked as well. It really is a shame. But I won’t keep you from your bed. Bess will show you to your room. As I mentioned earlier, Lord Wesleigh is staying in the suite right next door. Such a shame he won’t be joining us for dinner, but he said he would not be feeling well enough and requested a tray in his room.”

  Lydia had been sitting quietly through the whole exchange, but roused herself to smile at the duke as he left, although the smile trembled at the edges.

  The duke decided to check on his son after being shown to his room. He had been surprised to hear Alexander was ill. Even when Alexander was sick, he never played the invalid, as he hated for a fuss to be made over him. The duke hoped Alexander was not up to some lark at his hostess’s expense, but really could not think what could be gained by pretending to be sick. He went to the chamber next to his that had been pointed out to him by the maid and knocked quietly at the door. After hearing a feeble, “Come in,” the duke entered his son’s chamber.

  “Alexander, it’s your father,” the duke said, approaching the figure on the bed huddled under a mass of blankets. “I was sorry to hear that you are ill. Should a doctor be sent for?”

  Marcus realized he could not hide under a pile of blankets forever. Besides, it was hot as Hades under there. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Sorry to surprise you like this, but I can explain everything.”

  The duke appeared more resigned than surprised to see Sir Marcus Reddings’s head pop out of the bedclothes, not a flaxen hair out of place.

  “I am sure you can, Sir Marcus. And, I must admit, I am somewhat interested in hearing your explanation. I will just take a seat, shall I, while you prepare your, no doubt fascinating, account.” As the duke’s tone was laden with sarcasm and his gaze somewhat fierce, it is not surprising that Sir Marcus felt a hint of trepidation and a loss of some of his usual savoir-faire. “I should have been the curate,” he said under his breath, but launched into his explanation before the duke forced him to explain that cryptic utterance.

  “I am sure Alexander would do a better job of explaining to you his motives, but I will do my poor best to explain them in his absence.” Marcus paused, but as the duke’s only response was a glare, he hurried to continue. “Yes, well, Alexander felt that if he came to Stonehurst as the heir to a duke known to be promised in marriage to Miss Smithfield, there would be no opportunity for him and Miss Smithfield to come to know each other’s real characters. So he decided to come to Stonehurst incognito, so to speak, and get to know Miss Smithfield in a less formal atmosphere. So he is presently residing with the vicar of Stonehurst, posing as a curate.”

  “My son is posing as a curate.”

  “That is right, Your Grace, but with the purest of motives, I assure you.”

  “So you have said. I hope the Church of England appreciates the nobility of his actions as much as you do. But while I can comprehend my son’s behavior, as much as I abhor the deceit, it still does not explain why you are posing as him.”

  “That is true. Really, it is because of your son’s generosity that I am here.”

  “No sophistry, I beg you. Just cut to the chase.”

  “I needed to leave London and did not really have anywhere to go. I discovered that Alexander had come here posing as a curate. That left his identity free, so I assumed it. I cannot go into detail about my reasons, but they are good ones, Your Grace.” There was more sincerity in Marcus’s tone than usual, and he had dropped his foppish façade. The duke observed him in silence for a long moment, then nodded.

  “I am not saying I condone your actions; I detest falsehood. However, I accept your explanation.”

  “Does that mean that you will go along with the charade?”

  “I shan’t be a party to it, but I shall not expose you, either. As long as you stay in your chamber, and I do not have to address you in public, and Alexander stays out of my sight, you both can continue your game. But I give you one week only. I will not deceive my hostess and her family any longer than that.”

  Sir Marcus nodded acceptance of the duke’s terms. “You know, Your Grace, Alexander and I had no idea you were coming. When Miss Smithfield told me today you were expected, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I am sure Alexander was equally surprised when he got my note.”

  “I think he was surprised even before he got your note, young man. I saw him walking on the High Street with Miss Emily Smithfield, and he ran into the butcher’s when he saw my carriage.” The duke started to laugh. “I should have stopped my carriage and ordered some mutton. I wonder what he would have done then.”

  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, as
ked 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.