Trust me. Once you reflect on it calmly, you will see that running into Miss Ferrand was a godsend.
His companion snorted derisively. This is absurd. This time your scheme simply will not work.
Why not? At the moment, you are the only obstacle.
Well, to begin with, what if one of these people recognizes me? I mean, we do move in the same circles. I might have seen them at parties. What if one of them says, Hallo, Rawdon, when my name is supposed to be Mr. Emerson, or whatever it was she made up.
Lassiter, I believe, Sedgewick supplied. Its very unlikely. You have been out of the country for four years, and you werent Lord Rawdon when you left, you were still plain Benedict Wincross, with another heir between you and the title. You have been back only a few months, and you know as well as I do that you never go to parties. Besides, these people have been rusticating down here for the past few months. Miss Ferrand said so. They would not have been anywhere in London to see you. And even if someone did realize who you were, you could always make up some faradiddle about a secret engagement. Secret engagements are always handy things.
Particularly for those who dont have to participate in them, Benedict said sourly. Since having the whole scheme blown sky-high by someone recognizing me doesnt bother you, what about the fact that we are placing our trust in this chit about whom we know nothing? There isnt a chance in hell that she wont somehow give the game away.
She has every reason not to. She wants her family to believe that you are her fiancé as much asor more thanwe do. She will do her utmost to maintain that illusion.
Benedict grimaced. Even with the best goodwill, she can still make a mistake.
She seems a bright enough girl. Not lacking in spunk, either. I cant picture her giving it away through fear or timidity.
No. Even Benedict had to give a reluctant grin. Theres little likelihood of that. Still, I doubt she is accustomed to such deception.
What? His friend looked at him with comic dismay. Is this Benedict Wincross speaking? The man who swore to me four years ago that all women are steeped in treachery?
Benedict had the grace to flush. They are taught to deceive from the cradle, and you know it. I warrant that even Bettina, the best of women, has led you a merry dance from time to time.
Sedgewick chuckled, seeming not at all disturbed by this description of his wife. Indeed, that she has. Thing isI rather enjoy following your sisters steps, you see.
It is the grand scale of the deception that I doubt she could maintain. False smiles and a few sweet lies are a far cry from maintaining a fiction for days before all ones relatives. Moreover, this woman seems moredirect, shall we say?than most.
Perhaps. But, still, I think she is cleverand saving oneself from the tooth-and-claw of a vicious aunt is no mean motivation.
Perhaps she is capable of such pretense, but how the devil am I supposed to act moonstruck about a woman whose every word seems designed to raise my hackles? I have not been with that woman for two minutes running without wanting to wring her neck.
Just look at her as you did at Annabeth, Jermyn retorted unfeelingly. For Gods sake, Benedict, this playacting is vital to the existence of our network. You cannot let that whole group of men, all our efforts, be destroyed just because you dont like a woman.
Dammit, this isnt a mere whim of mine! This trumped-up story will not work!
What if it does not? We know nothing now, and our entire network is in grave danger of being destroyed. Not to mention the fact that we obviously have a very clever enemy among us who could be bringing in more enemies through the very channel we established. How will it be any worse if you are discovered to be an impostor? How much less could we know? How much more could our network be destroyed? How much more danger could our country be in?
Benedict gazed back at him for a long moment, caught by his argument. Finally he said in a truculent voice, I dont want to waste my time when I could be out looking for the smugglers.
We both know this way of looking for them will be faster and easier. Sedgewick paused, then raised an eyebrow. Or is it that Im wrong Perhaps you are dragging your heels not because you dislike the womanbut because you like her too much? Is that why she stirs you up so much? Is that why you are so determined to avoid being around her? Because she makes you feel things you thought were long dead?
Dont be an idiot, Benedict said roughly, tossing his cigar down on the driveway and grinding it out savagely. Bloody hell! All right, I will do it. But, by God, Jermyn, you better be right about this. Otherwise, Gideon will be lost.
He turned without another word and strode back into the inn.
* * *
STILL FEELING CHEERED by the warm drink within her and by Mr. Sedgewicks sympathy, Camilla turned to the almost Herculean task of setting her appearance to rights. She could well imagine what both her aunts would say if they saw her looking like this.
As soon as the maid brought in a pitcher of water and a basin, as well as rags and towels, she stripped off her filthy clothes and scrubbed away at the mud with a wet rag. When she had managed to rid herself of nearly all of the dirt, she put on clean undergarments from her trunk. As she dressed, she thought about the inevitable gossiping the servants of the inn would indulge in. No doubt by tomorrow it would be all over the village that Lady Camilla had arrived here last night looking like a hoyden, covered with mud and with a strange man in tow.
It would really be better, she realized, if that loathsome Benedict person did agree to pretend to be her fiancé. At least it would explain his presence in her carriage. If she told the real story, Aunt Lydia would go into near hysterics about the danger she had been exposed to, and Aunt Beryl would find it a golden opportunity to lecture her on her foolish, heedless ways and the danger into which they could lead her. It was enough to make her hope that Mr. Sedgewick would be able to talk Benedict into it.
Of course, it would be awful having to pretend for several days that she was in love with him and wanted to marry himindeed, it was daunting to think of even having to be in his presence that long. She was quite sure they would have difficulty not getting into a roaring argument every few minutes. Mr. Benedict was, after all, the most irritating man she had ever met.
No one would expect them to bill and coo, of course; that was not the sort of behavior encouraged by people of her station in life. Even engaged couples were usually chaperoned and stayed a chaste distance from each other. There was none of the public hand-holding or kisses such as Camilla had seen the parlor maid, Lizzie, and the butchers son engage in. No, if there were a kiss or embrace exchanged, it was usually done in secret.
However, they would be expected to be together a lot of the time, and it would probably be thought odd if they did not take a few quiet walks alone together. She remembered the sort of warm glances that had been exchanged between her friend Henrietta and her fiancé, Malcolm. There had been something in Malcolms eyes when he looked at his future wife that even now, when she thought about it, made a faint flush rise in Camillas cheeks. He had not been crude, but seeing him, no one would have been mistaken as to his feelings for Henrietta. Even Camilla, the avowed opponent of marriage, had breathed a few wistful sighs over those looks.