Page 86 of Miss Dashing
Johnny drew himself up. “I regret a momentary lapse of decorum, Miss Portia, but I am engaged to Miss Hecate. If that scene in the earl’s study was of your making, then you will have to content yourself with my apologies. I am not free to offer for you.”
Phillip took up a lean on the banister. “Oh, but you are.”
Nunn looked from Phillip—dusty, weary, nearly bored—to Johnny, resplendent in his evening attire, doing a fine impersonation of the aggrieved hero, and standing militarily erect. The performance was only slightly marred by the odd angle of his boutonniere and the smudge of pink lip color on his cheek.
“Lord Phillip, you will please elucidate particulars,” Nunn said.
“That fellow,” Phillip said, nodding at Johnny, “was doubtless planning to make a grand announcement at tonight’s gathering, one intended to further entrap Miss Hecate Brompton into marriage. He might not have announced a betrothal per se, but he’d have made plain that the lady had given him permission to court her, will she, nill she.”
“One wants to be forthright about a courtship,” Johnny said, while Portia glared daggers, and Hecate longed to smack him with her fan.
“Does one want to be equally forthright about his identity?” Phillip mused. “It might be the case that Johnny Brompton signed settlement agreements at Isaac’s urging years ago. I am less connived that Hecate signed anything binding, and I am utterly certain that you are not Johnny Brompton.”
The ensuing silence was brief and absolute, followed by general babbling.
“He’s daft,” from Johnny.
“I suspected as much,” from Edna.
“How marvelous,” from Eggy.
“I say,” from Charles. “I do say. How extraordinary.”
Hecate had only one question. “My lord, do you have proof?”
Phillip pushed away from the banister and faced Johnny—if indeed that was Johnny. “He’s supposedly a trapper inured to the elements, accustomed to battling the forces of nature for months on end, and yet, he cannot tell east from west when the sun is nearly touching the horizon. His hands are those of a clerk, not a hardy backwoodsman. He is inordinately preoccupied with who comes in second, as a younger brother would be when overshadowed by a more impressive sibling. In the middle of a racecourse laid over the grounds of his family seat, he became lost. This is not Johnny Brompton.”
“I am Johnny. I am.”
“Give up, Emeril,” Phillip said, not unkindly. “If we compare Johnny’s letters with those of his younger brother, we’ll see that Johnny’s penmanship at some point came to resemble Emeril’s exactly. Nunn, you have the letters?”
“Every one, going back ten years.”
“I am Johnny, I tell you. If I don’t have sufficient calluses to suit his lordship, then I will have to plead months of idleness while I made my way home, and even in the wilderness, we use compasses.”
“Calluses don’t disappear that quickly,” Nunn said. “Shall you pen us a little missive, whoever you are?”
Flavia had at some point taken the place beside Mr. DeGrange. “No need for that. Johnny has a scar on his shoulder where Emeril accidently ran him through with a wooden sword. This fellow has no such scar.”
DeGrange patted her hand. “Been engaging in a spot of birdwatching, my dear?”
Portia’s mouth was hanging open.
Hecate wanted to dance a jig. “Thank you, Flavia, for putting us in possession of yet more evidence proving that Emeril, rather than Johnny, came home from Canada.”
“The settlement agreements are real,” Emeril said. “The signature is valid.”
“But that signature,” Phillip said, “is not yours, and there’s the rub.”
“Shakespeare,” DeWitt murmured. “He has you, sir. You have no claim on Miss Hecate Bromptonwhatsoever, and you owe her a sincere apology, assuming she doesn’t have you arrested for extortion or fraud or some other hanging offense.”
Portia elbowed her way past Edna and Eggy. “You cannot arrest him. He owes me a proposal.”
Emeril looked her up and down as if he’d never truly seen her before. “We’re cousins.”
“If royalty can marry cousins, so can we.”
Hecate took Phillip’s hand. “She has a point, and besides, Emeril, or whoever you are, your scheme was about to blow up in your face. I’ve signed over most of my fortune to Uncle Nunn.”
