Page 12 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)

V erity had been exceedingly pleased to have an invitation delivered for Sir Jonathan’s charity scavenger hunt.

Her father claimed to never have laid eyes on the man, which might or might not be true, as the duke was not very good at remembering people.

What she did know from her sisters, though, was no such invitation had arrived in prior years.

Certainly, Lord Wembly had arranged it. The duke was agreeable to the scheme and had sent the funds for tickets.

She felt a little shiver whenever she thought of Lord Wembly.

Especially if she could block out of her mind any thoughts about slow-moving animals who may have given their lives in the name of science.

Or block out that he was an intellectual, while she could not even read.

Or block out that if anything were to really develop between them, she must inform him of that fact.

If she could block out all of that, thinking of him was positively lovely.

Her plan that at some future moment she would claim she’d lost interest in the subject of his research had not been fully rounded out as to when that moment would arrive.

Verity had begun to believe that perhaps the time in question must be soon.

Very soon. She really did not wish to think of the subject further.

She was determined to communicate an understanding of the topic and then be done with it.

Now, it had finally come. The night Lord Wembly and Lady Pegatha would come to dine. She’d picked out her favorite dress, but for the one she had packed away to wear at her wedding. Should there be a wedding.

The one she wore this evening was a crème silk with matching crème roses round the neckline.

Mrs. Right secured a modest necklace of rubies set in gold and fashioned in the shape of a rose round her neck and smoothed her hair into order.

Winsome was going through her jewelry, examining the pieces.

Valor laid on her bed with Sir Galahad, watching the proceeding.

“I don’t see why he has to come to dinner,” Valor said, pretending to talk to the little pug. Sir Galahad shook his head and sneezed by way of his opinion.

Verity was well-used to Valor’s displeasure at the idea of a gentleman turning up to dine. Thinking to soothe her, she said, “Valor, the dinner is not really for Lord Wembly, he’s only coming along. The real point is to honor Lady Pegatha, an old friend of our father’s.”

“I imagine you will like her, Val,” Winsome said helpfully, “as you do always get on with an older lady.”

“Oh, you mean like my very good friend, Lady Margaret?”

“Just so.”

“Lady Margaret considers me her dearest friend,” Valor said. “She admires my youth. Also, I wrote her about Sir Galahad, and she wrote me back about it. She reads my letters to Lord Harraby, and they agree that Sir Galahad sounded like the most tremendous dog in England.”

“That was very kind,” Verity said.

“No, she was not just being nice,” Valor said with a note of irritation.

“You see, I told her about teaching him how to play Vingt-et-un, and how I pick him up and put him in my bed at night because his legs are too short to manage it, and how he sometimes has sneezing fits on account of his flat nose, and how close he came to drowning in the Thames. Anybody would realize he was tremendous from all that.”

“Yes, that’s very true,” Verity said. They all knew that Lord Thorpe had set the scene for Valor to rescue Sir Galahad from the clutches of an evil lord who would drown him for being the runt of the litter.

Nobody would ever say a word to Valor about it being a carefully composed tableau, though.

Her recitation of her courageous rescue had grown to include fetching her father’s pistols and threatening the lord with imminent death.

Fortunately, the only thing that had fetched the pistols was Valor’s imagination.

“I suppose Lady Pegatha will be bowled over by Sir Galahad,” Valor said.

“No doubt,” Winsome said, picking up a pearl necklace.

“Put it back, Winny,” Verity said, knowing all too well that Winsome would make off with it if she could.

“Positively bowled over,” Valor said, scratching Sir Galahad’s chin.

“Come now,” Mrs. Right said, putting the last pin into Verity’s hair, “your father will be bowled over by how late you are if you do not get going downstairs.”

Verity hopped up and they made their way down to the drawing room. As it happened, they were a bit late. Lord Wembly and Lady Pegatha were already there. Gracious, she had not even heard a carriage arrive.

Lord Wembly was looking even more smashing than he had at Almack’s.

His clothes were tailored to perfection and his knot was of the neat and unfussy variety.

He had a devil-may-care style, the sort that was perfect, though looking as if hardly a thought had gone into it.

As well, there was something in seeing him standing in her own house that gave her a thrill.

He was very tall and broad and almost made the drawing room seem smaller than it was. He was such a man!

“There they are, the last of my daughters I’ve not yet launched out of the house—Verity, Winsome, and Valor,” the duke said jovially. “We only wait for Serenity and Thorpe—they are just two doors down, so we should not wait long.”

Patience and Lord Stanford and Felicity and Mr. Stratton were already there. Verity knew that Grace and Lord Dashlend would not come, they were already engaged to dine with one of his relations and could not beg off.

Verity and Lord Wembly were looking at one another in some sort of dumbfounded stare. It was really very awkward, but she could not look away.

Valor went forward with Sir Galahad in her arms. She walked past Lord Wembly, knocking into his arm and giving him nary a glance. “Lady Pegatha,” she said. “Allow me to introduce you to Sir Galahad.”

“He is very charming,” Lady Pegatha said.

“I know, everybody thinks so. He was almost drowned, but I saved him. If you want, you can play Vingt-et-un with him. He is very good, but getting too much in the habit of going over twenty-one on account of biscuits.”

“Goodness,” Lady Pegatha said. Verity could see very well that she was leery of playing cards with a pug.

Just then, Serenity and Lord Thorpe came in. “Are we late?” Serenity asked. “I am sorry if we are, but Nelson and Havoc were being so charming this evening. They’ve brought in a branch from the square and are rather delighted to steal it from one another.”

“You see how it is, Wembly,” the duke said, “get involved with this family and I guarantee you’ll come out of it with a dog.

Will it have the usual number of legs? Not guaranteed.

But then, maybe it will look like that one,” he said, pointing at Sir Galahad.

“Never was there a dog who more looked like his face was stomped on by a horse’s hoof. ”

“Papa!” Valor said, offended that anyone would point out Sir Galahad’s rather flattened features.

“His eyes look as if they might fall out of his head and roll across the carpet,” the duke said, laughing at his own joke.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they did one of these days.

Well, now, we’re all here, let’s get going and hope the butler who is currently haunting my rooms has managed something. Wembly, take Verity in, if you will.

Lord Wembly held out his arm. Verity laid her hand on it. So far, neither of them had said a word. It was as if they were both struck dumb in one another’s presence. It began to make her nervous.

Her nerves were somewhat distracted by what they found waiting for them in the dining room. What on earth?

It seemed Mr. Klonsume had been so bold as to redecorate. At least, she must assume so as she could not imagine who else would have done it.

The duke had stopped in his tracks. Mr. Klonsume hurried forward. “Your Grace, welcome to East meets West, a triumph of ingenuity.”

The triumph in question was an odd wallcovering that had been nailed to the far wall, depicting Indian men being fanned under palms. Most disturbing to Verity, there were monkeys in the trees, and she could not help thinking of the poor monkey she and Winsome had read about in the Royal Society paper.

“For the love of heaven,” the duke said.

“You note the maharajahs,” Mr. Klonsume said, somehow imagining that the duke’s comment was in appreciation.

The duke turned to his guests. “Ignore the wall covering as best you can. Now, let’s get on with it!” He took his seat and everybody followed suit.

Thomas had already arranged the place cards for Lady Pegatha to be on the duke’s right and Verity would be seated next to Lord Wembly with Mr. Stratton on her other side. Felicity, being the oldest married lady, took the hostess’ seat.

The duke motioned to Charlie to bring round the wine. He said, “As you see, Lady Pegatha, Wembly, we do not host large dinners here. We like for the table to be able to talk together, rather than having the din of thirty people all talking to their neighbors.”

“Excellent notion, Your Grace,” Lady Pegatha said.

“We have known each other an age,” the duke said, “you’d better call me duke.”

Lady Pegatha nodded graciously. Valor stared at her father and said, “Papa?”

“Ah, yes, my youngest has got in the habit of saying something to kick us off. Hopefully it won’t be as startling as last year’s something.”

Valor shook her head at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about. “Welcome, Lady Pegatha, who is the honored person at the dinner.”

Verity suppressed a sigh.

“I always make a speech because I’m practicing to be my Papa’s hostess forever,” Valor said.

“I will never leave him. If any of my sisters want to stay too, well, all I can say is that we would be very merry altogether. Also, we would not have to worry about a gentleman staying in our room all night. And staring at us while we sleep. Mr. Stratton.”

“One time,” Mr. Stratton muttered.