By the time Miss Richards returned, Jonathan had ushered Michael and Miss Carron into another room, thinking it best that they did not remain in the drawing room. After all, that was the first place the butler would come, should an unexpected guest come to call, and he did not want Miss Carron’s father to storm in the way Miss Richards had done.

“This room will do the trick, I think,” Jonathan said aloud, as he had a dinner tray for each of them placed on the small table in the middle of the small room. “I am afraid it is nothing special, but it will have to do.” He smiled at the sight of coats, hats, and traveling bags draped over various storage boxes, feeling as though he were some kind of spy on a daring mission. “Once we eat, then you can make your escape.”

“You are very kind, Lord Rivenhall,” Miss Carron replied, who only had eyes for Lord Michael. “And Miss Richards, I must thank you for all you have done.”

Miss Richards smiled and shook her head, taking her seat at the table. “You need not worry, Miss Carron. I am glad to be able to help.”

Dinner was a rather quiet affair. Jonathan did not know what to say and could barely look at Miss Richards. Michael and Miss Carron made their own conversation, whispering about what they might do and where they might go in order to get to Scotland safely.

Thankfully, Lord Michael knew a great deal about the road to the border, given that he had traversed it a few times during his time in the army. All plans were in place and Lord Richard’s carriage was waiting for them around the corner from their townhouse. They would leave once their dinner was completed, just when the final glimpse of sunlight began to fade away.

A loud bang startled Jonathan, making him jump from his seat. The other three remained entirely silent, although Miss Carron dropped her fork with a clatter. Hurrying to the door, Jonathan pressed his ear to it, guessing that it would be Baron Carron.

“He is not at home, sir,” Jonathan heard his butler say, as shouts and thundering footsteps were heard. “You cannot simply come in here and demand to see the man! I must announce you.”

“Goodness,” Lord Michael whispered, looking down at Miss Carron. “I believe your father has finally come in search of you.”

Miss Carron clutched at Lord Michael, who gave her a reassuring smile. “He will not find us, I am quite sure.”

Jonathan tried to ignore the sudden flurry of nerves that filled his stomach, hearing doors banging one after the other. It was quite apparent that the baron was intent on searching Jonathan’s home until he either found his daughter or gave up in the belief that she was no longer there.

The room that they were in was hidden away in a small recess of the townhouse and was mostly used for storage, but that did not mean the baron would not find it should he search extensively. Of course, Jonathan’s butler might attempt to have his footmen use force in order to stop the man, but that could end rather badly.

Leaning against the door, he turned around to face his guests. “I think we had better create some kind of distraction,” he said quickly, seeing Miss Richards nod in agreement. “Then, Michael, you and Miss Carron must make your way below stairs and leave via the servants’ entrance.”

“We should leave now?” Miss Carron repeated, even as she pulled on her gloves. “But my father is within this very house!”

“All the better time to leave then,” Miss Richards replied with a quick smile. “If he is within this house when you depart, then he will have very little chance of spotting you. Lord Rivenhall and I will do all we can to stall him too, of course.”

“Of course, we will,” Jonathan repeated, glad that Michael appeared to agree with this plan. “I had best step out first with Miss Richards. We will try to lead the baron towards the drawing room, and you can then hurry out towards the staircase.”

“Very good, very good,” Michael replied, his mouth drawn into a thin line. “I shall write, of course, the moment we return home safely.”

“Do,” Jonathan said, shaking Michael’s hand warmly for a moment. “I would like to know that all has turned out well.”

Michael smiled, as Miss Carron tucked her hand under his arm. “A good game, I would say, Rivenhall. On my end, at least.”

Jonathan winced, as Miss Richards came to stand next to them all, aware that the “game” had not turned out so well for him. “Indeed, Michael. I wish you all the happiness in the world.” Turning to Miss Richards, he held out his arm to her. “I suppose we had better go.”

“I suppose we must,” she replied, before stepping forward to bid farewell to Miss Carron and Lord Michael. That done, she walked to the door, and listening carefully for a moment, stepped out into the hallway with Jonathan following behind.

He pulled the door behind him at once, and just as Miss Richards tucked her hand under his arm, Miss Carron’s father flew out from the other room and stopped dead in the corridor.

“You!” he hissed, shaking one finger in Jonathan’s direction. “You are the one who lives here with Lord Rivenhall, are you not?”

“I thought I heard a noise,” Jonathan replied mildly, glancing at Miss Richards. “Who might you be, sir?” He glanced at the butler, who appeared rather confused, tipping his head a little to dismiss him. He could deal with the baron himself.

“I am looking for my daughter, Miss Carron,” the baron spat, his eyes narrow. “Where is Lord Rivenhall? I know he has taken her.”

Miss Richards stepped forward and put one hand on the baron’s arm, a shocked expression on her face. “Taken her?” she gasped, beginning to lead the man down the corridor. “I am truly horrified to hear it! I am Miss Richards, sir, sister to Viscount Richards. No wonder you are so upset. Come now, you must have a drink of something for your nerves and tell us the whole thing.”

“Lord Rivenhall is not here, I am afraid,” Jonathan continued, marveling at how well Miss Richards was handling the irate gentleman. “Although I do think he intends to return soon. Went out to play cards somewhere, although I am not quite sure where. He receives so many invitations, you see.”

The baron twisted his head and glared at him, eyeing Miss Richards rather suspiciously, although he did allow her to lead him into the drawing room.

“And why are you here alone with a gentleman, Miss Richards?” he asked, as Jonathan shut the door behind them both. “Where is your brother?”

Jonathan paused, nausea clutching at his stomach, as he stared at Miss Richards. His mind went entirely blank, as he struggled to find an explanation, realizing too late that he had not thought of such a thing.

“Well, you must promise to keep it a secret,” Miss Richards replied, after a moment. “But Lord Michael and I have become engaged this very evening. My brother has stepped out for a few minutes, to give us a little privacy, for which we are so very grateful, are we not?”

Engaged to Miss Richards? Jonathan’s heart seemed to stop in his chest, ice forming in his lungs. “Yes, yes,” he finally said, his smile almost cracking as he forced it across his mouth. “He will be back very soon, I am quite sure.” He saw Miss Richards continue to talk animatedly about the subject with a somewhat less suspicious-looking baron, his mind screaming at him that she was using the situation for her own advantage.

Apparently, they were to be wed. Jonathan did not expect the baron to keep such news to himself, especially when it became known that Lord Michael and he had traded places. All thoughts of Miss Richards having some kind of reasonable explanation for her desire to find such a husband flew from his mind, his heart sinking into his boots. What a fool he had been.

Forced to play the part of a newly engaged and deliriously happy gentleman, Jonathan and Miss Richards managed to keep the baron in the drawing room for a good hour, especially since Miss Richards listened with apparent shock and astonishment at the story the baron told. She agreed fervently that his daughter ought to be grateful for such a man as Lord Baxter, shaking her head that her strong will had pushed aside familial obligation.

“Of course, I will inform you the moment Lord Rivenhall returns,” Jonathan promised, as the baron made to take his leave. “I am sorry he has not yet returned.”

“It is no matter,” the baron replied, apparently quite willing to believe their story that the man had gone out for the evening. Jonathan was quite sure that this was mostly due to Miss Richards’ wonderful play-acting, although it tore at his heart for him to realize just how wonderful an actress she was. How well did he really know her?

The butler arrived to escort the baron from the house, and the very moment the door was shut, Miss Richards collapsed into a chair, fanning her face.

“My goodness,” she breathed, looking up at him with a spark of happiness in her eyes. “Do you think we gave them enough time to get away?”

“I believe we did,” Jonathan replied, somewhat gruffly. “Now all I can do— Now all we can do, is wait.”

She frowned, sitting up a little straighter. “We?”

“You need not play coy with me, Miss Richards. I am well aware that you have just announced our engagement to the baron. He will not keep it to himself.”

Miss Richards stared at him for a moment, her eyes widening as she understood what he meant. “You believe that I would truly try and do such a thing?”

“Why not?” Jonathan retorted, his fingers curling into a fist. “You clearly are only after a certain type of gentleman for your husband, and now that you know the truth of my identity, I suddenly became rather a good match!”

He watched as she got to her feet, feeling triumphant in his diagnosis of her behavior.

“First of all, Lord Rivenhall, I declared myself engaged to Lord Michael Astor, whom you are not. By the time the news reaches London of their flit, and of the truth of your identities, there will be confusion upon confusion spread throughout the town. No one will quite know what has happened, and since I presume you will be back in your country seat by then, you shall be far away from it all. Our supposed engagement will simply be a whisper, lost amongst all the other rumors.”

Jonathan’s shoulders slumped, his hands slowly beginning to relax.

“Secondly,” she replied, coming towards him. “I insist that you read this.” Pulling out the letter she had sent him from her pocket, she held it out to him. “I insist that you do so.”

Jonathan took it from her hand, aware of just how tight-lipped she was, and yet, how she battled desperately against tears. Had he just made yet another mistake?

“Very well,” he replied softly. “I shall read it.”

“Good,” she retorted, lifting her chin a notch. “Then I shall wait.”