Suzanne Allain - Incognito

Lydia was having a hard time appearing disinterested herself. “I do believe you’re right, Emily.”

The girls acknowledged the gentlemen with a polite nod and a smile, which was all the encouragement the gentlemen needed to join them.

“If you ladies have finished all your errands, may we accompany you home?” Mr. Williams asked, falling into step with Emily.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Emily and Williams trailed behind Lydia and Sedgewick, and Emily deliberately slowed her pace to put more distance between them.

“Twisted your ankle, have you?” Williams asked Emily, an expression of mock sympathy on his face.

“You know I have not; I am trying to allow Lydia and Sedgewick some time alone together,” she hissed back at him, as Lydia and Sedgewick were still within hearing distance.

“You mustn’t allow them to get too far ahead of us or she’ll think she’s been compromised.”

“Why, that would be perfect, then they would have to marry.”

“Yes, but is it part of your plan to put yourself in a compromising position with me?”

“No, of course not, that is the last thing in the world I want.” Which wasn’t entirely true, but it was what Emily had been trying to convince herself was true, so her denial may have been expressed a shade too vehemently.

Alexander was somewhat disappointed by this emphatic response, but then again, what did he expect? Had he expected her to announce that her fervent desire in life was to be forced to marry an undistinguished curate? What stunned him was how much he had wanted her to imply something of the sort. He swallowed his disappointment and decided instead to discover the answer to some of the questions that had been puzzling him.

“So if that is not your plan, then what is, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”

“Whatever do you mean? You know my plan. It is to see Lydia marry the man of her choice, the man she truly loves.”

“This other man, the one you mentioned in our conversation the previous evening, is he so odious a man that Miss Smithfield cannot like him?” Alexander asked.

“Yes. No. Actually, I do not know. We have not made the gentleman’s acquaintance.”

“Yet you say he is Sedgewick’s superior in position and fortune. Would not he be the better match for your sister?”

“No, he would not.” Emily was frustrated by his question and answered a little irritably. “Aside from the fact that Lydia loves another, she would not be comfortable with life as a duchess. She much prefers a placid, bucolic sort of life, such as the life she enjoys here in Stonehurst.”

“I take it from your tone of voice that you do not share your sister’s tastes.”

“No, I do not. While I admit the country is not without its charms, I find life here dull for the most part. I want something more than a country swain and a vicarage full of blue-eyed moppets. I am nineteen years old. I want to see a little of life before I settle into old age.”

“I do not think you’re in any danger of that for some time. Nineteen isn’t such a great age, after all.” Alexander replied, holding back a smile. “But we stray from the subject. Lydia has no ambition to be a duchess, but marrying her off to Sedgewick will not aid you in your schemes any. Unless you can convince this other gentleman to carry you off instead.”

Emily’s startled expression alerted him that he might have stumbled onto something. “That’s your plan, isn’t it, Miss Smithfield? To ensure Lydia’s firmly out of the running for the gentleman’s hand and offer yourself as the consolation prize?”

Emily did not reply, but the look of embarrassment on her face was proof enough. Alexander was disgusted. So much for all her talk of marrying for love. She was just the countrified version of a Lady Cynthia. Perhaps worse. She was willing to cut her own sister out of the running. “I must say, I find all this a little hypocritical of you.”

“Mr. Williams, you mustn’t think badly of me. I truly have Lydia’s best interests at heart.” When Alexander did not reply, merely casting her a look of disgust, Emily hurried to explain. “You see, it is as I explained to you earlier, Lydia has no desire to be a duchess. Why, the very thought terrifies her. Then, when I discovered her attachment to Mr. Sedgewick, I was determined she should not have to make such a sacrifice.”

“So you nobly offered to make the sacrifice in her stead.”

“Well, yes, but, as you are implying, I did not see it as such a great sacrifice. I believe I would enjoy life in town, and I have not formed an attachment to another.”

“As of yet. What happens when you meet a gentleman you could love, but you are already married to your precious lord?”

“Well, I must say, the idea did not occur to me until just recently. I just assumed such a thing would not happen. Now I am not so sure.”

Alexander was pleased to see she wasn’t quite the heartless wench he’d thought her. Because if those big brown eyes staring up into his weren’t sending the message that he was the one to have caused her doubts, his name wasn’t Alexander Eaton, Marquess of Wesleigh. He chose to ignore that, for the moment, that was not his name.

“Your ambitions aside, you are correct that your sister should not be forced into a loveless marriage. Whether or not you should be the one to take her place is a concern for you and the duke, and has nothing to do with me.” He smiled wryly as he made this statement, as it had everything to do with him. And then his sense of humor overtook him, and he had to restrain himself from laughing out loud. How ironic, he thought, that Emily was announcing her matrimonial plans to the very man she hoped to entrap.

Emily, who had been walking with downcast eyes, feeling ashamed, somehow, of what she had previously felt was a logical and advantageous scheme for all involved, cast a tentative glance at Mr. Williams and was surprised to see him grinning.

“I cannot possibly see what you find amusing in all of this,” Emily said, whose feelings of humility and shame had vanished to be replaced with indignation.

“Can you not?” Mr. Williams asked, whose grin widened when he saw the look of ferocity directed toward him, which put him in mind of a rather angry kitten. “You don’t find it somewhat amusing to consider this young man—what is his name?”

“Lord Wesleigh.”

“You don’t find it the least bit amusing,” Mr. Williams continued, “that Wesleigh, having already been told to marry one girl, arrives on the scene and without anybody asking his opinion, is told, ‘Sorry old chap, that one’s been taken, but be a nice lad and marry this one instead’?”

“Well, I do not see how it would matter to him. He agreed to marry one girl he has not even met, so he cannot be too particular.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. From what I know of Wesleigh, I would say he is quite particular.”

Emily looked up, startled. “You know Lord Wesleigh?”

“Yes, we went to school together. And as I said, he is quite particular in his tastes.”

“Well, although I may not be as beautiful as Lydia, I do not consider myself utterly repulsive.”

“My dear, you cast your sister quite in the shade. I think, from what I know of Wesleigh, you are much more to his taste than she is.”

“Am I?” Emily asked, although, at the present moment, her thoughts were not of Wesleigh’s taste, but the man walking beside her. “You sound as if you know him quite well.”

“I would say I know him rather well, yes.”

“What is he like? What are his tastes, his interests?”

“Well, he is considered a likable gentleman, I suppose. Fairly popular.”

“Yes, but what does he do? Does he travel, or is he political? Perhaps he’s scholarly?”

“Well, no.” Alexander was becoming a little uncomfortable. “He does what most gentlemen of his set do. You know, sporting pursuits, curricle races, that sort of thing.”

“But those sound like the habits of a very young man. I thought he was close to thirty years of age.”

“Yes, well, he has plans to lead a more purposeful sort of life. Become more involved in charitable works, institute improvements at his country estate, that kind of thing.”

Under Emily’s approving gaze Alexander wanted to rush right back to London and perform some worthwhile deed immediately, if only it meant she would continue to smile up at him in that manner.

“Do you know if he enjoys travel?”

Alexander thought for a moment. It was clear Emily desired to travel, and he wanted to answer her honestly. He had sincerely enjoyed his time on the Continent, but was inclined to stay in London, due to indolence more than anything else. Now he was struck by a burning desire to show Emily places like Italy and Greece, and see her big brown eyes light up with pleasure. That thought led to thoughts of other methods of making her eyes light up with pleasure, which he firmly suppressed, since Emily was still awaiting his reply.

“I cannot say that Alexander and I have ever discussed whether or not he enjoys travel, but I am inclined to think he does. Particularly if he were to have with him a lovely traveling companion such as yourself.”

Emily smiled. “Thank you, kind sir,” she replied, with a mock curtsy, “but I wonder if you have been telling me the opinions of Lord Wesleigh or Mr. Williams.”

Alexander “Williams” returned her curtsy with a bow, but did not reply. They are one and the same, Emily, he thought to himself. They are one and the same.

Emily returned home to be confronted by a furious Lydia. “Emily! Where were you? Mr. Sedgewick and I were forced to walk in circles in the hopes that you would catch up to us. When you did not come, Mr. Sedgewick was forced to escort me to the house, and Wiggins gave me such a look. I was quite ashamed, and poor Mr. Sedgewick did not know which way to look.”

“Oh, pooh, Lydia. I do not know why you should concern yourself with what our butler thinks.” Emily sounded confident, but she had turned a little red under Wiggins’s disapproving gaze as well when she had shown up unchaperoned on Mr. Williams’s arm. Thankfully he had been with the family long enough that they could trust him not to gossip.

“What took you so long, Emily? Mr. Sedgewick and I could not even see where you and Mr. Williams had gone.”

“Oh, I twisted my ankle a little, and we were forced to walk slowly.” Emily dismissed her sister’s exclamations of concern with a wave of her hand. “Never mind me. Did you and Mr. Sedgewick have a nice time together?”

“Well, of course. I always enjoy Mr. Sedgewick’s company. Although most of our conversation was taken up with where you had gone. I cannot imagine, Emily, that even with a twisted ankle, it took you so long to get home. Why, you are not even limping!”

“Never mind all that. I know, I know, it was wrong of me to leave you two alone together as I did. But did you talk of anything interesting? Did he pay you compliments, or attempt to court you at all?”

“Of course not! I hope you do not think, just because of my foolish infatuation, that Mr. Sedgewick returns my regard. He thinks of me only as another lamb in his flock.”

“Only if he were a wolf. Do not talk such nonsense, Lydia. It is quite apparent that the gentleman is in love with you.” Emily sincerely hoped she would be forgiven these little exaggerations in the interest of true love.

“What do you mean?” a pale Lydia asked. “Surely I have not betrayed my feelings in some manner. I would just die if he and I were the topic of local gossip.”

“No, no, of course you are not. Perhaps I exaggerated a little.” That, at least, was the truth. “I have been talking to Mr. Williams—”

“Emily! You have not betrayed my confidence to Mr. Williams! How could you?”

“Lydia, would you stop acting like the heroine of a bad tragedy! No, I did not betray your confidence. I did not have to. Mr. Williams noticed you and Mr. Sedgewick when you sang together the other evening, and mentioned that he thought Mr. Sedgewick had an interest in you but felt you were above his touch.”

There was a pause, while Lydia assumed a tragic pose worthy of Sarah Siddons. “What nobility, what strength of character, to think that I am above his touch. It is I that am not worthy of him.”

Emily had never paid much attention to her sister’s histrionic tendencies in the past. But today she was finding it quite wearing trying to anticipate what role Lydia would be playing next. Emily suppressed a sigh and tried to think which approach she should take. If she allowed Lydia to continue on in this vein, she would have Sedgewick and herself nobly sacrificing themselves for love, à la Romeo and Juliet. However, there would be no suicide; that would be far too vulgar. Lydia would probably just don wispy, fluttery clothing and mourn her lost love by heaving great sighs and peering out windows.