“How did you—”

“News spreads quickly in a small village such as this. So what did you think of the marquess?”

Emily found herself reluctant to discuss the subject with Mr. Williams. “He seemed polite enough, I suppose. He certainly did not fit your description of him.”

“I was not aware that I gave a description of him.”

“Well, perhaps not, but you could have at least mentioned his tendency toward—” Emily paused, seeking the most politic word.

“Yes?” Alexander prompted.

“Well, he seems to be rather given to dramatic effect.”

“Perhaps you are right. I thought you were more interested in his pocketbook than his character.”

Emily looked reproachfully at Alexander, the hurt evident in her expression. “I think I would prefer to walk alone.”

“Emily, I am sorry. I did not mean that. I was just jealous. It was a rotten thing to say, and I apologize. Can you forgive me?”

The word “jealous” had the amazing effect of making her forget that he was hiding some dreadful secret and was a dangerous man. She just knew that she, Emily Smithfield, was capable of making this gorgeous creature jealous. It was a delightful sensation, and in the afterglow of that remark she would forgive him practically anything. However, in the next moment he did something that brought all the doubts and anxiety rushing back.

They had neared the end of the High Street, when they heard the sound of a carriage approaching. Emily, looking over her shoulder, noticed the coat of arms was the same as that on Lord Wesleigh’s carriage. However, before she had an opportunity to say so to the gentleman walking beside her he had disappeared. She looked all around, but she did not see him anywhere. In desperation, she called to her maid: “Bess, did you see where the gentleman I was walking with went?”

“No, miss, I was watching the carriage. Did he go off and leave you?”

“It appears so. Never mind, let’s go home.”

Alexander did not know what course to take. His initial reaction was to hide, lest his father recognize him, but as he recovered from his surprise, he wondered if he should just confess all and call it quits. Then again, he was no longer the only one involved in this masquerade—there was Reddings to consider as well. Alexander walked back to the vicarage slowly, weighing his options. When he arrived, he was handed the message from Reddings informing him that his father was on his way to Stonehurst.

“Thanks for the warning, old chap, but you are a little late,” Alexander mumbled to himself. He crumpled the note in his hand, standing and thinking for a moment. He finally shrugged and went to the library to read. There was little he could do but wait. It was up to Reddings to carry the day. Alexander would find out soon enough if the masquerade was at an end, and if he went bumbling into the Smithfield’s house with his father sitting in the drawing room, he was liable to do more harm than good. No, he would wait. And if he did not hear anything by nightfall, he would contact Reddings surreptitiously under cover of darkness.

Emily returned to the house, irritated once more by Williams’s cryptic behavior. This was the second time he had disappeared in the middle of a conversation, and she was more determined than ever to find out what reason there was for his bizarre actions. She wanted nothing more than to go to her bedchamber to think, but her mother called out to her from the drawing room as she walked by.