EFFIE SETTLED ON the sofa and accepted a glass of whiskey from Archie. “I have some interesting news for you.”
“It’s about bloody time.” Archie plopped down in his usual chair.
Her brow arched upward. “I beg your pardon? Just who was asked to do a favor for whom? And an exceptionally difficult favor at that.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Forgive my impatience. The blasted man has worked his way into the heart of my family. The girls like him, Anabel adores him and I’m hard-pressed not to think of him as the son I’ve never had.”
“Well, my information is something of a mix of good and bad.” She thought for a moment. “More good than bad really, when you take into account all the particular details.”
“You’re driving me mad, Effie,” he snapped. “Out with it.”
“Your tone leaves something to be desired.” She sipped her whiskey.
“Again, my apologies.” He forced a tight-lipped smile. Surely Archie should know by now how much she enjoyed driving him mad.
“Very well.” She paused for dramatic effect. She too could act when the need arose. “He’s not the son of Reginald Everheart.”
“Bloody hell.” He stared. “He’s not?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
Archie’s brow furrowed. “Then who is he?”
“His name is actually Wesley Grant. He’s a rather wealthy American, president of a clock company as I understand it.” She paused. “He’s also the nephew of Lord Maywood. His mother’s brother, I believe.”
“Why would he pretend to be someone he isn’t?”
“You know about his chronometer?”
Archie nodded. “Fine instrument. The trouble with most chronometers is that they are too delicate for anything of a rugged nature. But his has a unique casing and a system of springs and cushions that really is quite remarkable. And it’s compact enough to be practical.”
“William has often said what is really needed on expeditions of exploration is an accurate timepiece.” Good Lord, Archie was easily distracted. Still, it didn’t hurt to emphasize Wesley’s accomplishments. “Did you know Mr. Grant developed it himself?”
“No, I didn’t.” He nodded slowly. “That’s most impressive. The man has a fine mind but it still doesn’t explain why he felt it necessary to hide his true identity.”
“It’s obvious, Archie. If you had just fallen head over heels for a beautiful woman, would you want the first thing she knew about you to be the fact that you had come to England to curry favor with her father?” She shook her head. “She’d never believe you weren’t simply using her for her connections. That does not sound like an auspicious beginning to me.”
“That makes a certain amount of sense, I suppose.” He thought for a moment. “Why Everheart?”
Effie had given this a great deal of consideration. There was really no need to reveal Anabel’s plot to avoid marriage to Douglas. “I imagine it was the first name that came to mind when he met Anabel. I believe they met in front of the memorial wall at the Explorers Club”
“You’re wrong there, Effie.” He snorted. “Anabel had mentioned him days before the ball. She thinks I pay no attention to anything she says, but I do.”
“Nonetheless, you’re mistaken. It happens to the best of us when we get older. They do say memory is the first thing to go.” She sipped her whiskey. “According to my information, the man didn’t even arrive in London until two days before the club ball.”
“It’s possible, I suppose.” He took a long swallow of his drink, obviously considering the situation. “I shall have to confront him of course.”
“Why?”
Archie stared. “Because he’s been pretending to be someone he isn’t. He lied to me, my family and to Anabel. He deserves to be exposed for the imposter he is.”
“You could certainly do that.” She swirled the spirits in her glass thoughtfully. “Although it does seem to me Mr. Grant is something of a Christmas miracle. I’d say he’s the answer to your prayers.”
“The answer to my prayers?” He scoffed. “I don’t see how.”
“Think about it, Archie. Anabel will soon be twenty-one and you’re worried she’ll never find a husband.” She cast him a knowing smile. “Mr. Grant is wealthy, successful—”
“He’s American.”
“With connections to a fine English family.” She shrugged. “He really is a perfect match for Anabel.”
His eyes narrowed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“They are obviously in love.” She paused to let her point sink in. “And you do want her married, don’t you?”
He heaved a resigned sigh. “Only to a man of her own choosing.”
Effie grinned. “Why, Archibald Snelling, you have learned something. It’s fairly apparent to me that Mr. Grant is of her own choosing.” She leaned forward and met Archie’s gaze firmly. “Have you seen the way she looks at him? And just as importantly, have you seen the way he looks at her? When a man looks at a woman like that, it’s fairly certain he will treat her well.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“He really is quite a catch.” She settled back in her chair. “I wouldn’t think you’d want him to get away.”
“Perhaps not,” he said slowly.
She sighed forlornly. “It could be her last chance.”
“We should probably do something about this.” Determination mixed with utter helplessness shone on his face and Effie resisted the urge to feel sorry for him. After all, when one considered the situation in its entirety, the blame for starting all this could be laid squarely at Archie’s feet. “Don’t you agree?”
“Without question.” She nodded firmly. “I think we need to do everything we can to make certain she forgives him when she finds out who he really is.”
“Just how do you propose we do that?”
“Let me think.” She sipped her drink and drew her brows together as if she were truly trying to think of something and not just marking time. “Didn’t you mention to me that you hoped to announce Anabel’s engagement to Mr. Reed at your Christmas Eve Ball?”
He nodded. “Not now of course.”
“Still, it was a good idea.” She smiled. “But I believe I have a better one.”