“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.
Chapter Eight
Emily checked her appearance in the hallway mirror before proceeding into the drawing room. She was irritated with herself at the gesture, but she could not help herself. She found Lady Cynthia’s cold perfection quite intimidating. Whatever confidence her reflection gave her was dispelled the moment she entered the drawing room. Lady Cynthia was quite the lady of fashion, in a sky-blue morning dress that matched her eyes perfectly. Well, perhaps not perfectly. Her eyes resembled ice more than they did sky.
“Good morning, Lady Abernathy, Lady Cynthia. How kind of you to call. Unfortunately, Lord Wesleigh does not feel well enough to receive visitors.”
“Really. He told you so himself, I presume.” Lady Cynthia replied.
“Yes, of course. He asked me to convey his regrets, but he feared a relapse of his illness were he to entertain visitors.”
“And he told you this while you were visiting him?” Lady Cynthia met Emily’s glance with a limpid stare.
“It was a brief visit, I assure you. There was not enough time for me to compromise him, or for him to propose marriage, if that is what you fear.” Emily realized her remark was rather shocking, but she was beyond caring. What could Lady Cynthia do to her? She had forgotten Lady Abernathy’s presence.
“Well!” that august lady proclaimed in loud accents, looking down her long nose at Emily.
“I apologize, Lady Abernathy. I must have misunderstood Lady Cynthia’s concern. I am sure her interest in Lord Wesleigh’s well-being is the same as it would be for any unfortunate victim of the grippe, and is not reserved for wealthy heirs to a dukedom.”
As the apology was as offensive to Lady Cynthia as Emily’s initial remark, it was not to be expected that Lady Cynthia’s anger was assuaged by this reply. However, as she felt Emily was entirely beneath her notice and not attractive enough to be a serious rival, she merely smiled a superior smile, and replied, “Just so.”
There was a definite chill in the air as Lady Smithfield and Lydia entered the room. They greeted their guests graciously and apologized for their delay in joining them. “But I am sure Emily and Lady Cynthia took advantage of this opportunity to get to know one another better,” Lady Smithfield remarked, oblivious to the tension in the room.
Emily reflected that her mother was right; she had gotten to know Lady Cynthia better. She was a materialistic, scheming snob, determined to entrap Lord Wesleigh into marriage. Emily conveniently forgot that she herself had had such an ambition only a few days previously. Now she had no interest in the marquess beyond that of a guest in her home. However, as much as his dandified ways annoyed her, he did not deserve such a wife as Lady Cynthia.
Lady Smithfield and Lady Abernathy assumed the burden of the conversation, but it was soon clear that they were to get on no better than Emily and Lady Cynthia.
“My dear Lady Abernathy, you have heard, of course, that we have two distinguished guests at the moment.”
Lady Abernathy regally inclined her head. Lady Smithfield was not dissuaded by her visitor’s lack of enthusiasm.
“The duke of Alford, and his son, Lord Wesleigh. The duchess and I were at school together, you know.” Lady Abernathy gave a second nod, an almost imperceptible move of her head. “Lady Abernathy, as we are such good friends, perhaps I can share something with you. In strictest confidence, of course.” Lady Abernathy’s nod was a little more vigorous, and she allowed a slight gleam of interest to appear on her craggy countenance.