Page 19 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)

Verity felt herself relax. If there were one thing nobody had to read about in a book, it was the majesty of the Dales.

“It is a vast, open place. The first time I came to London, I was struck by how hemmed in I felt, as if I could not see far enough. At home, one can see miles and miles of rolling hills crisscrossed by low stone walls that can be easily jumped on a horse. In spring, you can smell the wild garlic in the air and lambs dot the hillsides. In summer, the hawthorn and wildflowers carpet the meadows. Then the weather begins to turn in autumn and the leaves of the trees turn gold. And then it’s winter, all calm and white and austere.

It is beautiful, but it can be dangerous too.

An inexperienced traveler might lose their way, or slip and break an ankle, or be caught in a deep snowdrift.

The winter nights can be colder than one might expect, especially if the wind is blowing. ”

“It sounds a deal wilder than my little corner of Somerset.”

Verity had been on the verge, the very verge, of positing something she’d heard about Somerset, though she’d heard nothing at all. Instead, she said, “What is it like there?”

“I cannot speak for all of the county, as there are differences. My patch is very regulated and civilized, perhaps one might say boring. Grazing land and farmland all very regularly laid out. Though, I should not complain of it being boring—my land has been good to my family and supplies a very good living.”

“It has been in your family long, I presume.”

Lord Wembly laughed. “All the way back to the Magna Carta—stubborn barons down through the centuries. The house shows it too. I’ve thought of modernizing from time to time, but I suppose I am grown too used to its eccentric charms.”

“Eccentric? How so?” Verity asked, reining in her instinct to talk of other houses with eccentric charm that she in fact knew nothing about.

“What one might expect when one generation after the next adds their bits and bobs. It began as a very fortified place with the requisite portcullis, ramparts, and murder holes. Then it evolved over time through the Tudors and the Stuarts, and then certain bits added more recently. The end result of it is a mishmash of a house with corridors leading nowhere, secret passages, and closets with bricked up windows. I have a map I regularly hand out to anybody who comes to stay in the house, lest they get completely turned around—when I was a child, Lord Featherby was lost for some hours.”

It sounded rather glorious. As well, Verity was glad she had not invented anything, as she could not have conjured such a description.

“Perhaps you might visit sometime,” Lord Wembly said. “To see the map.”

Verity did not answer that sally, as she hardly knew what to say to it. She wished to say, “Visit? When? Tomorrow?” However, she knew she could not be so bold.

They went on to speak of other things, comparing one house to another.

Christmas traditions, the inhabitants of the local neighborhood, and the flora of the localities were all discussed.

Verity supposed they had the most in common regarding their rather thin neighborhoods.

In the Dales, they mostly kept to themselves.

Lord Wembly seemed to do the same, as he claimed his only close neighbors were a lady who thought it was still 1750 and a viscount who was forever firing off his gun at nobody knew what.

“Well now,” the duke said jovially, approaching from behind, “I suppose you’ve had enough of a look at the view?”

They both leapt to their feet and Verity was conscious of the idea that they’d been sitting rather close. Perhaps more close than would be expected, at least by her father.

They made their way back and found the grooms had packed up the picnic. Goodness, Verity supposed they’d lost track of time sitting by the Serpentine.

“Wembly, my girls will follow my carriage home,” the duke said. “We’ll see you at this ridiculous scavenger hunt on Thursday?”

Lord Wembly helped her onto her horse. He helped Lady Winsome on too. Though, he’d hoisted Lady Verity by the waist and only given his locked fingers for Lady Winsome’s boot. He supposed that must hint at something and he was happy to hint it.

“Your Grace, I will be there. Lady Verity, Lady Winsome, Lady Valor, Mrs. Right.” He bowed, mounted his own horse and set off in the opposite direction.

As she and Winsome trotted behind the carriage with the grooms bringing up the rear, Winsome said, “Well? Did you tell him?”

Of course, she inquired into whether or not Verity had mentioned that she could not read. She had not positively decided to do it. But on the other hand, she could not see keeping it a secret if things were to lead…where she thought they might be leading.

She had to do it, and she could not do it. She was frozen in place.

Verity shook her head and trotted ahead of Winsome.

For now, she would put all her thoughts on the lovely conversation that was had at the banks of the Serpentine.

She would just enjoy that moment, as she did not know how many future moments there could be.

At this particular moment, she was imagining getting lost in Lord Wembly’s house and he coming to her rescue using his map.

As they entered the square, an ominous picture came into view. Lady Marchfield’s carriage was stopped outside their house.

They entered the house, allowing the duke to lead the way.

Verity was not certain why the lady was here, but it could not be ignored that Mr. Klonsume had made an exceedingly odd departure the day before.

It was entirely likely her aunt had come to complain about yet another butler exiting the house.

Where he’d exited to in such a strange manner, Mrs. Right had not yet said.

If only their aunt would stop sending butlers, she would not find herself half so aggravated.

“This should be interesting,” Mrs. Right said as they crossed the threshold.

They entered the drawing room to find Lady Marchfield standing with her arms crossed. Verity glanced behind her and noticed Mrs. Right had disappeared.

“What now, Lady Misery?” the duke asked, throwing himself into his preferred chair. “If you’re looking for Klondike, he took himself elsewhere.”

“I am perfectly well aware, Roland. What I am not aware of is how you allow that housekeeper to act so outrageously. Criminally, in fact.”

“I have no idea what’s gone on,” the duke said. “Mrs. Right informs me of what happens to all these ridiculous butlers you send at her own convenience.”

“At her own convenience ?” Lady Marchfield asked, as if the idea that a housekeeper was to be afforded any convenience whatsoever was akin to blasphemy.

“That’s right, at her convenience,” the duke said, “slow to the mark but you’re finally catching on.”

Verity and Winsome had tiptoed to chairs and sat silently down, not particularly wishing to attract their aunt’s notice. Valor had picked up Sir Galahad and very sensibly left.

“If I had not intervened,” Lady Marchfield said, “Mr. Klonsume might have caused a difficulty with the queen! He might have turned up to Buckingham House with this ridiculous story! How was he to know any better? Oh, but I unraveled it as soon as I saw that letter. It was on your stationery with your crest. The very idea that your housekeeper would have the temerity to take your stationery and commit a forgery!”

At that moment, Mrs. Right reappeared, carrying a tea tray. She set it down in front of the duke as if she had no notion why Lady Marchfield had arrived or that anything at all was amiss.

“Admit it, you scandalous woman,” Lady Marchfield said, pointing at Mrs. Right. “Admit it all. At once.”

“Admit what, your ladyship?” Mrs. Right asked.

“Admit how Mr. Klonsume came to receive a letter telling him he was to be knighted. That’s what.”

The duke snorted. Verity slapped her hand over her mouth to stop from laughing. Mr. Klonsume thought he was to be knighted?

“Oh yes, I did see that letter,” Mrs. Right said. “Mr. Klonsume insisted I read it. I was very surprised by its contents, I can tell you. A knighthood, and I had never even heard of the Order of Owen.”

“There is no Order of Owen, as you well know,” Lady Marchfield said darkly.

“You arranged all this. You sent him to The Albany, to Lord Charles’ set, I understand.

You left the letter directing him to pray all night.

You left him those ridiculous clothes from the distant past, replete with stockings and a frock coat.

Oh, and a patch and a wig, let us not forget that!

And then you sent him to my house in some get-up of a carriage flying flags so that I might escort him to St. James for the ceremony and then on to Buckingham for the reception! ”

Verity could see very well that with every word, her father was becoming more and more amused. When the idea of a flag-flying carriage depositing a ridiculously outfitted Mr. Klonsume was relayed, he lost all hope of controlling himself.

The duke heaved with laughter. Mrs. Right said, “Gracious, how is one lowly housekeeper to do all of that?”

Lady Marchfield ignored her brother’s hysteria. “One lowly housekeeper can do all that because one lowly housekeeper is employed by the most embarrassing duke that England has ever known,” she said.

The duke took a breath from his heaving laughter. “Well, Klondike’s your problem now. Or the Order of Owen’s problem—I don’t much care. But for entertainment purposes, what do you plan on doing with the fellow?”

Lady Marchfield glared at the duke. “I have had no choice but to buy him passage on the first boat back to America. I’ve had to pay for a private berth and supply him with funds to resettle himself.

He’s got it into his head that even though there is to be no ceremony, he has taken on the spirit of a knighted individual and cannot abide steerage.

He must be permitted to live as a Sir. I was forced to it, as he cannot stay here.

He made threats about approaching the patronesses to be admitted to Almack’s!

Furthermore, that carriage and his absurd clothes made a positive scene on my square—I still have not come up with a way to explain it and I will be asked. ”

“Klondike returns to New York first class,” the duke said, chuckling.

“Perhaps someone should warn New York?” Mrs. Right asked, her tone all full of innocence.

“Mark me, Roland, your disavowment of any sort of regularity will catch up to you and my nieces sooner or later. At the rate you are going, I imagine it will be sooner.” With that, Lady Marchfield steamed out of the house.

Verity would never have guessed that Mrs. Right had got Mr. Klonsume out of the house with a ruse about a knighthood. She really was so clever.