“I love it,” Marcus said, after having heard the whole story. “It has all the elements of a French farce. All we need is a jealous husband.”

“I could do without that complication,” Alexander replied. “So, how long should your business take?”

“Hopefully no more than a few days. There has been a highwayman causing a great deal of commotion in the area. I am here to apprehend him.”

“Yes, I have heard talk of him. He has the local ladies all aflutter. They are going to start lining up to be robbed by him if there is any more gossip about his lovemaking. He even managed to get a kiss from that iceberg Lady Cynthia.”

“That is an accomplishment,” Marcus said. “Do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?”

“Well, you know I do not take defeat very well. Little did I know that all I had to do to steal a kiss from her was put on a mask and say ‘Stand and deliver.’” Both men laughed, before growing serious once more.

“I do not understand your involvement in this affair. Is not this a job for the local constable?” Alexander asked.

“It seems our highwayman is interested in more than jewelry. It appears he has somehow discovered the route our messenger takes when delivering assignments to the troops on the coast. He has been intercepting them and selling the information to the French. We want to discover who else is working with him.”

Alexander nodded. “I would be happy to assist you in whatever way I can.” Marcus thanked him for the offer, but reiterated that what he needed most was a place to stay. “Well, I guess Smithfield House is as good a place as any to hide out in for a few days. No one in that household should recognize you.”

Except, of course, the duke of Alford, who was en route to Stonehurst as they spoke.

The ladies of Smithfield House had heard the carriages arrive, and were sitting in the drawing room, awaiting the announcement of their distinguished guest. They assumed, it being Tuesday, the day he had written he would be coming, that the duke of Alford would be announced. There was a moment of stunned silence when Wiggins stated in a triumphant tone of voice, “Lord Wesleigh.” Wiggins knew his mistresses were expecting someone else, and it pleased him to surprise them. He always prided himself on knowing more about what was going on in the household than anyone else, even the mistress.

The ladies may have been able to recover themselves sooner if it were not for the strange sight that greeted them when “Lord Wesleigh” walked in the room. Marcus had changed his outfit to one he thought would better suit his new role. He felt a person in the full throes of the grippe should dress in a more subdued manner. To that end, he had discarded his turquoise and yellow, deciding in favor of puce and gray, with a paisley waistcoat. In order to give the impression that the sunlight was too harsh for his weakened eyesight, he was wearing a pair of green glasses. He held a handkerchief over his mouth and was feebly coughing into it as he walked into the room.

Lady Smithfield was the first to recover. “Lord Wesleigh, what a pleasant surprise, please sit down.” She tried to approach him to lead him over to a chair, but when she got closer he backed up, waving her away.

“Lady Smithfield, I beg your pardon”—cough, cough—“but I am quite ill. Please do not come any closer, we do not want to risk contagion.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Lady Smithfield retreated to her seat, racking her brain to try and remember the proper etiquette to follow when one had a guest who had a mysterious illness and would not allow one to approach him.

“I think that I shall be forced to spend the next few days in my room, until I recover from this humiliating illness. Perhaps, once I have been introduced to your charming daughters, you could conduct me to my room?”

“Of course, of course. Girls, come make your curtsy to Lord Wesleigh.” As Lord Wesleigh almost backed into one of the tables as the girls approached, Lady Smithfield hurriedly reminded them, “Not too close, mind.”

Lord Wesleigh pronounced himself charmed to meet first Lydia and then Emily. He started to lift his quizzing glass to peruse the girls more closely, when he saw Emily struggling to keep from giggling. Then he remembered the green glasses he was wearing. Never one to fear ridicule, he raised his quizzing glass anyway, and received a magnified view of Emily’s sparkling brown eyes, through a green haze.

The sight appeared to be too much for Lord Wesleigh. He dropped his quizzing glass, shuddered, and in a weak voice, asked, “My chamber?”