The Switch(23)
Author: Lynsay Sands

"But" Beth began desperately.

" ‘Tis all riglit," Charlie murmured, drawing her sister’s reluctant gaze.

"Come. You can tell me all about your night." Taking her arm, she urged her up the stairs and Beth allowed herself to be led to "Elizabeth’s" room. Once there, however, she tugged her arm free and turned on Charlie defiantly. "I told Tom everything. All about us."

"I am not surprised. He seemed very upset when he left the ball."

Beth grimaced. "He was furious. He was also confused. He said that kissing you was like kissing Clarissa. He could not figure out what was going on. But he wasn’t happy seeing you, I mean me, in Radcliffe’s arms. Well, who he thought was me."

Charlie nodded solemnly. "So, you told him everything and ?"

Happiness exploded on her face. "And he asked me to many him."

"I thought as much," Charlie admitted with a grin and hurried forward to hug her, truly happy for her sister. "Congratulations."

"Oh, Charlie." Beth squeezed her desperately. "I love him so. What am I to do?"

"Do?" Charlie pulled back to look at her with surprise. "Why, you shall marry him, of course."

"But Tomas wants to elope to Gretna Green at once. He is waiting out front."

"Then you had best hurry and get ready, hadn’t you?" Releasing her, Charlie rushed into the dressing room.

"Why?" Beth asked miserably, following to find her searching through the gowns they had received so far from the dressmaker. "Radcliffe is not going to let me out the door. He is afraid for Elizabeth’s reputation."

"And he is right," Charlie said absently as she packed the lavender gown in a satchel. "Elizabeth should not be here alone. Aside from our reputations, there is the blackmailer to consider. Radcliffe would never let Elizabeth out alone at night, and criminals do seem to like to arrange their meetings at night."

Beth watched her pack away various toiletries, her confusion slowly turning to understanding. "So Elizabeth will rush off to elope with Tomas, and Charles will remain here," she reasoned out slowly, beginning to glow with happiness.

"Nay."

Beth’s glow died an abrupt death. "Nay?"

"Nay, of course not. How on earth can I find a husband for myself as Charles?

Impossible. Ridiculous. Completely hopeless."

"Then why are you packing a case?" Beth wailed.

Charlie peered at her with surprise. "Why, so that you can elope, of course."

"But you just said"

"You, Beth," Charlie interrupted patiently. "You are going to elope. In the meantime, Charles will be terribly under the weather and spend most of his time in his room. That way, Elizabeth’s reputation is safe, Charles is available if the blackmailer arranges another meeting, and I can be Elizabeth almost full-time to search for a husband."

"You will play both roles!" Beth gasped with understanding, following when Charlie snapped the satchel closed and led her from the dressing room.

"Only for a couple of days. Do make sure Tom hurries you back."

Beth bit her lip. "Tom said it would take a full day, a night, and almost another half day to reach Gretna Green if we ride without stopping," she admitted reluctantly.

"A day and a half there, and a day and a half back." Charlie began to shake her head. "You will have to stop to rest the night. That means you will be gone almost four"

"Nay. We will head right back," Beth interrupted to assure her, afraid Charlie was about to change her mind about all this. "It will only be three days."

"Beth, you cannot ride three clays straight without rest, and even if you could, his horse could not."

"We are taking the carriage. Tom and the driver can take turns at the whip, one driving while the other rests. And we can change horses regularly," she added as Charlie began to look hopeful.

"Do you think Tomas will agree to all this?"

"He loves me," was Beth’s simple answer.

Smiling wryly, Charlie nodded. "Very well. And once you get back, you can play Charles full time. It will give you a chance to spend as much time alone with your new husband as possible until I find one, too. If I have not found one by the time you return," she added on a sigh, turning to hold the satchel out.

Beth grabbed the bag in one hand, then pulled her sister into an enthusiastic hug. "Oh, Charlie, you are brilliant! Magnificent! Incredible!"

"I love you, too," Charlie murmured, holding her close briefly. Then she pushed her away and turned to open the window. "Now, you had best get going."

Beth glanced at the window, her smile fading somewhat. "Out the window?"

Charlie arched an eyebrow. "Would you care to try walking right out the front door under Radcliffe’s nose? If he catches you, the jig will be up."

"Aye, but" she hesitated, recollections of her encounter with the window at the inn filling her mind. What a dreadful experiencethat had been.

Leaving her to her thoughts, Charlie peered out the window. They were on the second floor above the salon, facing the road, and there was a bush directly beneath the window, offering a cushion should Beth fall. Her gaze slid to the street to see Tomas pacing anxiously beside the Mowbray carriage.

Placing two fingers in her mouth, Charlie used the whistle the stablemaster at home had taught her while working with the horses.

The piercing sound drew Tom’s head around at once. Spying her at the window, he rushed forward to stand by the bushes beneath the window. Gesturing for him to stay put and remain quiet, Charlie turned back to Beth and took the bag she had packed. She dropped it into the bushes, waiting until Tom scrambled to remove it before turning back to her sister.

"He is waiting for you," she said gently.

"Tom?" Startled from her thoughts, Beth leaned out the window to wave at her husband-to-be before straightening again. "I can do this."

She didn’t sound at all certain. Smiling, Charlie hugged her one last time.

"We have already escaped unwanted marriages, fled inns in the middle of the night, made our way to London, and fooled the entire ton into thinking we are brother and sister. Beth, I think we can do anything we set our minds to."

Grinning, Beth stepped back. "We are rather daring, are we not?"

"Bold as brass," she agreed cheerfully.

Straightening her shoulders, Beth turned and crawled out to sit on the window ledge before glancing back. "Three days."

"Three days." Charlie agreed, then gasped in alarm when Beth pushed herself off the ledge. Leaning forward, she peered down to see Tomas holding her cradled in his arms, having caught her. Releasing her legs, he let her stand. The couple kissed briefly, then glanced up, waved, and hurried through the darkness to the waiting carriage.

Charlie watched them ride out of sight, then closed the window with a sigh.

"Three days."

Chapter Fourteen

Charlie had never imagined that time could pass so slowly. These past three days had seemed more like a week to her. She had played Charles each evening since Beth’s leaving, donning the wig, jumping into bed, and pulling the linens up to cover her gown as Bessie delivered "Charles’s" tray at dinnertime.

Dressed as Elizabeth, she had taken up the morning and afternoon trays herself, much to Bessie’s relief. The girl was quite busy with the puppies, taking them for walks, then fussing over the fact that they seemed to be off their food.

Little did she know that the reason for this sudden drop in their voracious appetites was that they were snacking on the food meant for Charles.

Pacing to the salon window, Charlie peered out. There was still no sign of Radcliffe’s carriage. They were supposed to have left for the Sommervilles’ ball four hours ago, but Radcliffe had never arrived home to take her. She had gone from irritation, to anger, to anxiety, and now she was worried silly that something had happened to him.

The sound of the front door closing drew her glance out the window again to see that Radcliffe’s carriage had returned. Turning smartly, she hurried into the hall in time to see Stokes disappearing with his master’s gloves, cape, and hat.

"You are home."

About to step into the library, Radcliffe paused and glanced at her with surprise, then changed direction and moved toward the room she had just exited.

"Oh, good evening, Elizabeth."

"Did you have a good day?" she asked sweetly, following him into the salon and watching as he poured himself a drink from a carafe on the table.

"Very good, actually. That investment I madethe one I included you and Charles inhas paid out. We tripled our money," he murmured with satisfaction, then swallowed some of his drink. "That is where I have been, actually."

Charlie’s tension eased, her anger dissipating quickly. He had been tending to business. That was why he had not arrived home to take her to the Sommervilles’ ball. She could hardly be angry at him for that. She could not expect the man to give up his life or shirk his business to aid her in finding a husband, she thought. And then he added, "I was out celebrating with some of the other investors."

Radcliffe had raised theglass to his lips again when a missile flew at him.

Catching it out of the corner of his eye, he dodged it automatically, sloshing port all over the place as he did. It smashed against the wall behind him and he stared at it with amazement, then turned in time to see Elizabeth’s skirts disappear through the door. "What the deuce?"

Setting his glass down, he hurried after her. She was halfway up the stairs when he stepped into the hall. "What the devil was that all about?" he shouted after her, taking to the stairs himself.

Not having anything close to hand to hurl at him, Charlie did not deign to stop and answer him. Instead, she picked up her pace in an effort to avoid him.

Unfortunately, the constricting farthingale that women were forced to wear to be fashionable, tended to makelittle things like breathing difficult, and running was out of the question without air, which was why Radcliffe caught her on the landing.

"I want an answer." Catching her arm, he dragged her around to face him.

"What was that all about?"

Pressing a hand to her chest, Charlie made a determined effort to regain her breath, then offered him a perplexed look. "What, my lord?"

"In the salon," he snapped. "You threw something at me."

"Did I?" she murmured "I must have been terribly angry."

"Aye, but about what?"

"Do you know, my lord, I think I have forgotten."

"Forgotten?" He stared at her dumbfounded, and she nodded solemnly.

"Aye. Just like you obviously forgot about the Sommervilles’ ball." Turning on that note, she headed down the hall toward "Elizabeth’s" room.

"Oh, damn," Radcliffe breathed, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, then blinking them open again as she reached the door to her room. "Elizabeth, I am sorry. I meant only to have one, maybe two drinks, then head home, but I"

She whirled on him coldly. "You are not sorry, my lord. Pray do not pretend that you are."

"But I am!"

"Is that right? Well, pray forgive me if I find that hard to believe in light of your recent behavior." His head came up at that, and he hurried forward as she opened the door to her room.

"What do you mean? What recent behavior?" he demanded, barging into the room behind her as she would haveclosed the door in his face.

Charlie stared at him briefly then shook her head and crossed the room to peer out the window. Her expression when she turned back was solemn.

"Radcliffe, you know that I must find a husband. This is not a question of what I want, it is what I need. If I am not married ere my uncle and Carland find me, I will be forced to marry him. And if that happens, I can guarantee you I shall be dead within a week."

"I would not let that happen."

"Would not let? You are practically guaranteeing that outcome," she cried.

"Do not be ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? My lord, you took me to the Halthams’ ball the night before last."

‘There! You see? I am trying to aid you."

"The Halthams are eighty years old if they are a day."

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, that does not mean"

"There were exactly three men at that ball under sixty years of age, and when one or another of them even looked my way, you glowered at them so ferociously that they immediately turned away."

"Well, not one of them was much of a man if a little frown scares them off."

"My lord, next to Carland, Mr. Haltham himself looks like a prince."

Flushing guiltily, he shook his head. "All right, the night before last was a failure and it was all my fault."

"Last night you took me to the Whitmans’ ball."

"AliceWhitman isn’t a day over nineteen," he pointed out quickly.

"But Lord Whitman is ninety if he is a day. He is also deaf as a post and blind as a bat and uses these frailties as excuses to literally drool down every single woman’s bodice as he supposedly listens to them speak. This is why, as I learned last night, no one who is anyone attends his balls, and why there was not one single available male in attendance. Or female, for that matter.

Oh, other than myself, I mean," she added dryly. "But am I to believe that tonight was not another attempt to sabotage my efforts at saving myself? Fine.

The Sommervilles’ ball slipped your mind. My need to find a husband to share my life slipped your mind. I apparently slipped your mind!"

Radcliffe stood silent before her, shame covering him like a cloak. She was right of course, though he had not even realized it himself until now. He had deliberately sabotaged her efforts to gain a husband. And he could not even explain why. All he knew was that the last three days had been hell as he had tried to keep his distance and behave appropriately while all the young bucks in London sniffed about her. Oh, he had noticed the way they looked at her.