Page 35 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)
The earl really did do terrifically. Verity was entirely convinced that Lord Dartmouth had not positively decided to allow Lord Wembly to approach.
Finally, the Lord Chamberlain gave a grave nod, and Lord Wembly was allowed to proceed, while Lady Pegatha and Lady Lilith remained by Lord Dartmouth’s side.
Why was Lady Lilith there anyway? She was dressed as a charming milkmaid. Why should she be one of Lord Wembly’s party? Why was she staring at Lord Wembly so intently?
“Your Majesty,” Lord Wembly said with a deep bow. “Your Grace, Lady Verity.”
“Wembly,” the queen said. “I understand you have created quite a lot of talk these days?”
“None that I have meant to, Your Majesty.”
“I suppose you’ve seen the print where you are in repose on a fainting couch?” the queen said with a smile.
“I have, Your Majesty. Though I hope I may be so bold as to point out that I am not in a faint, nor have I ever been. I do not believe the author of that drivel knows my character very well.”
Verity felt the blood drain from her face. Perhaps it had drained from her entire. body and was now in a pool under her chair. That drivel ? The queen herself had composed that print.
Silence had descended on the party.
The duke said, “That’s what I like about you, Wembly. If there is a pile of manure within a mile, you’ll find it and step in it.”
Very naturally, Lord Wembly seemed put on the back foot over that comment.
“I, your queen, composed that print,” the queen said, sounding in high dudgeon.
Now Lord Wembly was so far on the back foot that Verity wondered if he would fall over.
“I deeply apologize, Your Majesty,” Lord Wembly said. “It was humorously done, of course. But I must insist, I was never in a faint or anything like what those other prints portrayed.”
“Other prints?” the queen asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the duke said, “there was one with his posterior afire, and another with him slumped in a chair and named spineless.”
The queen seemed to lose her irritation over the amusement of it. “Wembly, do you make it a habit of causing so many prints to be made about you?”
“I have not in the past, Your Majesty, and hope never to do so again.”
“I see,” the queen said. “Well? Beyond insulting my print and making a general spectacle of yourself, was there anything else you wished to accomplish?”
“If I might request to take Lady Verity on a turn about the room?”
The queen looked to Verity’s father. “What say you, Duke?”
Verity leaned forward to catch a glimpse of her father and encourage him to acquiesce.
“I’ll leave it to Verity, Your Majesty. All my girls have sense enough to decide for themselves.”
Verity sprang from her chair. “I’ll go…That is, I am agreeable to a turn around the room. Your Majesty.” She curtsied. Lord Wembly held his arm out and they set off.
Not a moment later, Verity noticed they were being trailed by Lady Pegatha and Lady Lilith. Lord Wembly seemed to notice too.
He turned and said, “Aunt Pegatha, perhaps you might escort Lady Lilith…somewhere. Perhaps to the tables where Lady Darlington has set out her voting tickets for the costumes.”
Lady Pegatha nodded, though Lady Lilith was looking irate about it. Verity was glad, though. She would not be able to discover what was in Lord Wembly’s mind if there were other people in the conversation.
His aunt had nodded at Lord Wembly. Rather knowingly, Verity thought—as if they had a secret between them. Lady Pegatha had taken Lady Lilith’s arm and steered her in the opposite direction.
“Lady Verity—”
Before Lord Wembly could get further than saying her name, Lord Westerby had him by the arm. Verity did not know him, but she knew of him. Her father claimed the elderly gentleman would corner a person and lecture them about some arcane subject for hours at a time.
“Wembly, do not tell me you plan on missing Brande’s lecture on the morrow regarding his observations on the effects of magnesia in preventing an increased formation of uric acid?”
“Why should I?” Lord Wembly asked.
Lord Westerby looked pointedly at Verity. “I only say, the world can be peopled by those who do not take an interest in advancing science.”
Verity stared at the gentleman. What a thing to say.
“Thank you, Lord Westerby,” Lord Wembly said, “but I believe you have been enough help to me over the past weeks to last me a lifetime.”
They moved on, though Verity heard Lord Westerby call behind them: “Does that mean you’ll come, then?”
“Now, Lady Verity—”
They were again interrupted. This time by Lord Froggerton, one of the gentlemen who had come in droves the day Verity was to ride in the park with Lord Wembly.
“Eh, Wembly?” he said in a jocular tone. “Had to face the queen, eh? All those prints—she don’t like that sort of thing.”
“Are you an intimate of Queen Charlotte’s, then? Are you privy to her private thoughts on a wide variety of subjects?” Lord Wembly said, his tone all irritation.
“Well, no, but I’ve heard…”
Lord Wembly gave Lord Froggerton a withering stare and that gentleman turned and walked away.
“As I was saying, Lady Verity—”
“Pants on fire!” a gentleman said, stopping them in their tracks.
“Thornton,” Lord Wembly said with a heavy sigh, “did you need something?”
“Need? Who needs a laugh after all those prints going round—I’ve got a whole collection of them.”
Lord Wembly turned to Verity and said, “The doors to the balcony are right there—will you consent to step out?”
She nodded. Lord Thornton said, “A bit of fresh air? I do not suppose it would do me any harm.”
“Not you ,” Lord Wembly said. He was really looking out of patience and Verity could not tell if he were in a hurry to scold her and denounce her for bringing him so much trouble…or something else.
He pulled Verity through the doors and shut them in Lord Thornton’s face. The balcony was quiet, the doors closing on the babble of guests in the ballroom. The cool air fanned her cheeks and smelled fresh in comparison to the heat and perfume of the indoors.
“Lady Verity, first, I would reiterate that I have not been on fire or slumping or prone on a fainting couch. Though, I do wish I’d known the queen was the author of that last one. Nevertheless, if I have been anything at all, I have been aggravated by all this unnecessary nonsense.”
Verity felt her heart slowly squeezing inside her chest. He had got her alone to communicate his ire, and she’d been so hopeful it was something else.
“I should never have said that ridiculous thing about the fish eyes,” she mumbled.
“It was not true, was it? You were not really looking into it?”
“No.”
“Why did you say it, then?”
“Well, the footman came round with the broiled cod, and I was looking at it…so that’s what I said.”
It was not really an answer. Lord Wembly wished to know why she would invent such a story. She had not told him she could not read, that she had word swimming. Now she certainly could never reveal it. He’d brought her out of doors to express his irritation, not his admiration.
“In cases such as these, I presume it is the usual…” Lord Wembly paused. “Wait. Lady Pegatha did warn me not to sound as if I were giving a lecture at the Royal Society.”
Verity swallowed. He’d told Lady Pegatha he was to give her the what-for and she’d advised him on how to do it? Is that why they’d seemed like they had a secret between them?
“I am not so skilled at finding the right words, it seems. This might do better.” Lord Wembly reached into his coat and brought out a velvet box. He opened it to reveal the most charming bracelet Verity had ever seen.
It was a superbly cut sapphire surrounded by seed pearls that went on in rows to form the band of the bracelet.
He was giving her a bracelet? She was wrong, then?
He might be a little scoldy over…recent events.
But he also gave her a bracelet, which was practically a declaration. Or was it definitely a declaration?
He removed it from its case and made to put it round her wrist.
“Wait!” she cried. Now was the time, now she would have to tell him that she could not read. She should have told him earlier. She would have, if he’d been more clear about his intentions. She really would not have waited until this moment.
But now was the time.
The bracelet hung in Lord Wembly’s fingers. “There is something I have to say…or rather, inform you of,” Verity said. “After you have heard it, you might wish to slip that bracelet back into your coat pocket. You would have every right to do it, too. It is very grave news. Very grave, indeed.”
“Good God,” Lord Wembly whispered, “are you already married?”
“No!”
“It’s not, well, it’s not a baby?”
“Whose baby?”
“No, of course not,” Lord Wembly said. “What? What is it?”
“Well, what it is, you see, it is a condition with my eyes.”
“You’re going blind?” Lord Wembly asked. “Well that is nothing. Nothing at all.”
“No! At least, I had not considered that a possibility. It’s called word swimming. When I look at a book, the words swim on the page. You see, I cannot read because of it.”
Ugh, she’d said it. She’d never wanted to say it, but now Lord Wembly knew it.