Elizabeth Mansfield by Poor Caroline

gaped at her. “How did you know ... ?”
    “She’s spoken of nothing else but the brave gentleman who dashed under the rearing horses to save her!” Letty exclaimed, beaming at him.
    “I did no such thing,” Kit declared. “She insists on making a hero of me. That is, of him. ” He stared ahead of him unhappily. “I wonder if he’d have been quite so heroic in her eyes if she’d known he was Kit Meredith.”
    Letty’s face fell. “The Vexatious Viscount,” she murmured. “Yes, I wonder.”
    “The Vexatious Viscount? Is that what she calls me?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “Charming,” Kit muttered in disgust.
    “But do go on, Kit. How did you become Mister ... Mister ... ?”
    “Mr. Terence. Marcus Aurelius Terence, if you please. Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous? It was all I could think of.” He related the rest of the story without further interruption. At the conclusion, he looked at his aunt, shamefaced. “I don’t expect you to approve,” he said. “It was a cowardly thing to have done.”
    “Not at all,” Letty said, a twinkle appearing in her eyes. “I think it was a very good thing to have done. By becoming Mr. Terence, you will soon make your way into her good graces—if you’re not there already. I assure you that Mr. Terence has already made a noteworthy first impression.”
    “Then you don’t think the lie was a stupid mistake?”
    “No, I don’t. I have a feeling it will all turn out very well.”
    “I wish I were half so sanguine.” He got to his feet and began to pace. “Very well, then, we’ll proceed with the deception. Do you think, Aunt Letty, that you can face me at tea and pretend I’m an absolute stranger?”
    Letty smiled, drawing herself up proudly. “I played Portia at school. It was a stellar performance, if I do say so, as I shouldn’t. One doesn’t lose that sort of talent with the years, does one?”
    Kit grinned back at her. “One certainly doesn’t. I see I have no need to be concerned. Then the only other thing I’ll ask of you is to instruct Melton not to give me away. I’ll talk to the boys.”
    He found them in the back sitting room, desultorily playing a game of hearts. He let them play out the hand before telling them what had happened the day before. When they realized it was he who’d rescued their sister from the runaway horses, they were overjoyed. “You should’ve heard the great things she said about you!” Gilbert chuckled.
    But Kit took no pleasure in their pride in him. He was shamefaced as he related how he’d deceived her about his identity. But they only laughed loudly. “Serves her right,” Arthur said. “She should never have set her hackles against you in the first place.”
    “Perhaps it was all right in the first place, when she didn’t properly understand why you sent us off,” Gilbert pointed out, trying to be fair to his sister. “But we’ve been telling her every day what a good sort you are, so she should’ve come round by this time.”
    “Did you really tell her I was a good sort?” Kit asked, smiling at the boy fondly. “That was very kind of you.”  
    Gilbert shrugged. “Well, you are.”
    “Will you still think me a good sort when I ask you to join me in deceiving her for a while?”
    The boys looked at each other for a moment. Then Arthur, reading agreement in his brother’s eyes, spoke for both of them. “Yes, we will. We love Caro, but we’re on your side, Kit. There’s nothing we want more than for Caro and you to be friends. Perhaps a small deception is the only way.”
    “Besides,” Gilbert said, his whole face alight with eagerness, “it’ll be a great lark watching you humbug her at tea today.”
    Kit’s smile died. “Good God,” he muttered, “I didn’t think of that. Do you and Caro always take tea together?”
    “Most always,” Arthur said. “Why?”
    Kit ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do it with the pair of you watching.