Page 61 of Tempting the Marquess

“Makeup?”

“Oh yes,” White replied, his gaze turning sly. “Nasty stuff, unfortunately, just like what Kean and Siddons must wear on stage. Once they’ve added a few layers of paint, given you some wrinkles, shadowed your eyes and fastened a wig over your hair, you’ll be unrecognizable.”

William raised an eyebrow. “One would hope so. I can’t imagine all this going very well if the first person to bump into me says ‘Standish! Thought you were languishing in France. Why’d you have all that goo on yourface?’”

“Don’t even joke about it. You must not answer to Standish or William Hastings or my lord under any circumstances. Your name is Mr. David Underwood, you are sixty years old, a widower who lives on the goodwill of your wealthy family which ebbs and flows depending on how much you have irritated them in recent times. You greatly enjoy good food, better wine, expensive fabrics, and salacious scandals with other men’s wives. You loathe rules, and paying bills.”

“So I’m extraordinarily likablethen.”

“Very much so. By marriage you were third cousin to Andrew Westleigh, so you were also acquainted with Richard Standish, and you attended both their weddings. People remember your unusual height, but you much prefer being emperor of Cornwall society rather than just another penniless London fop, which is why you are rarely seen amongst theton.”

“Cornwall? Where I partake in a certain kind of night work to boost my fluctuating income?”

White snorted. “No. Underwood is an indoors man. Your boat and beach skills will not be requiredhere.”

“Pity. Now for a serious question. Where is David Underwood right now? I’m not going to bump into myself at a ball or one of the clubs, amI?”

“No. He is currently in a secure facility recovering from an unfortunate mishap. The salacious scandals I spoke of earlier—on the most recent occasion the husband returned home early, and there was an incident with a pistol, a broom, and a flock of geese that, let’s just say, did not endwell.”

William rubbed his jaw, just to keep it from dropping in disgust. “Good God. This is a new low, even for you. For the foreseeable future I’m to be a useless, spendthrift, dandified old rake whose claim to greatness is countless seedy affairs?”

“Precisely,” said White, his face so bland William longed to hit him again.

“Wonderful.”

“Glad to hear you’re looking forward to the assignment. Barclay will brief you on anything else that has happened since you’ve been away, and give you further background information on Underwood. Oh and by the by, your first public outing is at Drury Lane tonight. Quite appropriate, really, with you to be in costume andall.”

“Tonight?” he growled, just as the carriage pulled up in front of a tidy gray stone building with several large windows. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Come now, you know I don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Yes you do. It is just sick and very, very twisted.”

White smiled angelically. “Enjoy your time in town, Mr. Underwood.”

* * *

“Getup!”

Blinking sleepily, Samantha lifted her head from the soft pillow she hugged and stared at the door of her chamber. Then wished she hadn’t, for the determined look on Caroline’s face in the fading light of dusk would be enough to give anyone palpitations.

“Is...is something wrong, Caro?”

“You’re damned right there is something wrong, poppet. You not leaving this chamber, or more importantly, your bed. It has gone on long enough. You need air. Conversation. To have your gloves made damp by perspiration and wet kisses.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been feelingwell.”

“Sam, dearest…” Caroline’s voice gentled. “I know it is a terribly, terribly difficult time. But you cannot remain cooped up in this chamber. The latest rumor to circle London is that you went mad and have been locked away. If you were at least seen out, even justonce…”

“Well—”

“Besides, I have news. Good news! Stephen just received a note from the Home Office to say Lord Standish’s condition has improved. He has opened his eyes and even took a little broth. Although he has a long way to go, they are now hopeful of an eventual full recovery.”

Samantha burst into tears. “That is…thatis…”

“The best news. I know,” said her friend, wrapping her in a warm hug. “So now we must celebrate with an evening at the theater. Stephen, George and Louisa, Ardmore, and Southby will all be there. And Jane. We’ll be in Southby’s private box, so you don’t need to speak to anyone you don’t wish to. But you’ll beseen.”

“I’m surprised Alexander agreed. No, don’t give me that look, Caro, he invited me to call him that in private,” she finished tartly, almost giddy at the knowledge William was recovering.