Page 36 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)

V erity had finally admitted it. She could not read. She had word swimming.

Lord Wembly wrinkled his forehead. “Is that similar to word spinning?”

“Possibly?” Verity had never heard the term, but then she’d never heard of word swimming before her father had mentioned it.

“The words mix themselves up so it’s all a jumble?” Lord Wembly asked.

“Yes, that is exactly what happens. So you see, another gentleman, a more sportsmanlike gentleman, might not mind—”

“I’m sportsmanlike!”

“What I mean is, a gentleman who might always be off fencing or boxing—”

“I fence and I box. Very well, actually.”

“You see what I say, though. You are an intellectual. You are a member of The Royal Society. You read and think and conjecture. How could you consider…what I mean is books and the knowledge in them mean everything to you.”

“ You mean everything to me. Why should I care that you have a case of the word spins? For all I know, I might go gouty in my middle age. Would you mind it?”

“Of course not,” Verity said. “If you were gouty, I would just put your foot up on a padded stool and give you willow bark tea and make you give up your port.” She was babbling now, she knew it.

He’d said: “You mean everything to me.” And here she was, babbling about the gouty foot he might or might not someday be afflicted with.

The balcony doors swung open, and Lord Kendrickson poked his head out.

“Get out!” Lord Wembly shouted at him. Lord Kendrickson took on a look of alarm and disappeared, the doors closing behind him.

“Lady Verity Nicolet, before anything or anybody else tries to stop me, I adore you and could not care less that you get the word spins. Will you consent to wed me and live in my ridiculously complicated house in Somerset forevermore?”

“Yes! Yes, I do,” Verity said. “That is, if you are certain—”

“Of course I am certain, you ridiculous girl. I’m an intellectual, at least give me credit for knowing my own mind.”

He was sure. It had happened. He’d said it. He’d said it even though he knew she could not read. It was a miracle. What next? What would he do next?

Lord Wembly reached for her and pulled her into his arms. That was next. He pulled her into his very strong arms. He was such a man!

He kissed her gently and whispered, “You will put up with my red hair, then? Realistically, we might even have red-haired children.”

“I adore your hair.”

He put the bracelet on her wrist, fiddling with the delicate clasp until he’d got it closed.

Then he kissed her again, and then again.

The cold air did not seem so cold now. The world did not seem so dangerous now.

As he kissed her neck and played with the curls in her hair, it really did seem a miracle.

She was to marry. Most importantly, she was to marry as she was, not as some invented version she’d pretended to be.

Or even more importantly than that, she was to marry this man.

The balcony doors opened once more. Wembly growled, but then suddenly took a step back.

“That’s probably enough now, Wembly,” Verity’s father said.

“Yes, of course, Your Grace, it’s just that things…”

“Got a little out of hand?” the duke asked.

“Papa, Lord Wembly has asked me to wed, and I know you will approve as you are the most darling father that ever lived, and I could not admire you or dote on you more.”

The duke laughed. “I suppose I must agree then, given that flowery bit of inducement. Though, I certainly will not approve of any further mauling of my daughter at a ball. Fix her hair, Wembly, and then come back inside.”

The duke left them out there to undo any damage that had been done. Lord Wembly did fix her hair, though it took some time to do so as there were considerable interruptions of the kissing variety. He did finally put her into some sort of order, and they reentered the ballroom.

The queen was looking very approving of them, and she gave Verity a little hand wave to signal she need not return to Her Majesty’s side.

Wembly led her to one of only three card tables set up at the other end of the ballroom. “Let us pretend at piquet so nobody bothers us,” he said.

Verity was exceedingly agreeable to it. Lord Wembly allowed various footmen to approach with wine and bits of the delicacies that Lady Darlington sent round, but otherwise just held his hand up when anybody else thought to approach their table.

He was delightfully rude about it. Eventually, all the young gentlemen who no doubt wished to mention the prints and snicker over it got the message.

“What shall I call you?” Verity asked.

He looked as if he’d not considered the matter. “I suppose whatever you like. Wembly, or my given name is Henry.”

“All my sisters call their husbands by their title names, but I do like Henry. Perhaps I will use both, Henry for in private.”

“I will answer to both then. Now, considering what a palaver this courtship has been, I hope you were not thinking of a long engagement?”

“Goodness, no,” Verity said. “Let us wed before anything else happens.”

Henry nodded. “Agreed. I shudder to think what could be next if we dare to delay.”

Verity giggled. He really did have the most delightful dry wit.

“And the wedding trip—I suppose you have ideas? At least, Lady Pegatha assures me it is a subject a lady will have given a great amount of thought to.”

In fact, Verity had no ideas at all. She’d been so wrapped up in her word swimming, and the preposterous story about fish eyesight, and the ensuing prints, that there’d been no room for such considerations.

It had seemed impossible that she’d ever get as far as going on a wedding trip.

“I’ve not given it any thought at all,” Verity said.

“I am certain there is something extravagant we could arrange—perhaps I might rent a fine house in Brighton?”

“To be truthful, I do not much care. Let us just go somewhere we can be alone.” Verity supposed it was a rather shocking thing to say, as ladies were not meant to think of, or wish for, such things. But she was thinking it and she was wishing it.

Lord Wembly’s brows raised just a little bit. “That is certainly not Brighton, then. Do you suppose you would not mind if it were a very simple sort of place?”

“I would not mind at all.” What did she care where they went? They might hole up in a cave somewhere if he liked it.

“I do have a house on the Isle of Wight; it is old inherited land. The view is terrific, it overlooks the sea from a high cliff, but the house is nothing much. Just a small cottage. I go there sometimes if I look for peace and quiet to conduct my research.” Lord Wembly paused.

“Which is the other thing you might not like aside from the simplicity of it—it is full of books. Walls and walls of books. I would not like you to feel uncomfortable by being surrounded by them.”

“But that is just it—I would like to know everything in books,” Verity admitted. “If I could read them. I suppose you realize we will have to hire a lady to do it for me, which I know is an added expense you would not have accounted for.”

“Fortunately, I am very rich,” Lord Wembly said.

“Yes, you are, I had forgotten.”

“We will go to the Isle of Wight, to my little cottage there, and I will read to you whatever you like. We can walk along the cliffs and there is a woman there who arranges for my meals. Our meals.”

And so it was settled. They would wed as quickly as humanly possible and then they would travel to the Isle of Wight, and Lord Wembly would begin to reveal what had been hidden away from her all her life by reading to her.

She had been wholly dependent on Winsome reading to her and Winsome always gravitated to terrible novels. There was so much to find out!

“Verity?”

It was her aunt, Lady Marchfield. At her approach, Lord Wembly had almost raised his hand to drive her away as he’d done with some others, but then he seemed to think better of it.

“Aunt,” she said.

“I would caution you that you have been at this table, alone with a gentleman, for an excessive amount of time. In full view of the queen, no less. I understand she was so kind as to transport you here. I do not think you repay her courtesy with this behavior. It is not seemly. Lord Wembly? I would have counted on you to know better.”

“We are engaged, Aunt,” Verity said, laughing. “Look.” She held up her bracelet for Lady Marchfield to see.

“We are planning our wedding trip,” Lord Wembly said.

“Nevertheless…” Lady Marchfield said to no point.

Verity thought she looked a little put out over hearing of the engagement.

Certainly, her aunt wished for her to be well-settled.

But then, perhaps it irked her to be so often proved wrong, especially after her experience with Mr. Klonsume.

And then Verity was supposed to have ruined her chances by spouting off about fish eyesight, but somehow, she had not.

“The queen is all for it,” Verity said. If there was anything that would affect Lady Marchfield, it was hearing of the approval of a lady more powerful than herself. Nobody had more power than the Queen of England. Not even the king these days.

“The queen approves? I see,” Lady Marchfield said. “Well then, congratulations on this…miracle.”

Verity nodded at her aunt, and for once the lady was not far wrong. It really did seem miraculous, though perhaps not for the reasons Lady Marchfield thought. Her aunt drifted off, no doubt deciding to save her strength and live to fight another day.

Now that Verity was looking around the ballroom, she could not miss that Lady Lilith was glaring at her. Lord Wembly’s eyes drifted in that direction too and he suppressed a sigh.

“Is there a reason she looks so put out?” Verity asked. “Have I done something to offend the lady?”

“I believe she might have had some…hopes…let’s call it. In my direction.”

“Oh, I see, goodness, that is terrible. She must be heartbroken.”

“I really do not think—”

“Never mind it,” Verity said.

“Yes, that is exactly what I would wish.”

Verity supposed he thought the matter was to be forgotten, though that was not precisely what she’d meant.

She would call on Lady Lilith and smooth things before the wedding.

After all, she knew what it felt like to be heartbroken, and she did not think Lady Lilith even had any sisters to console her.

And now that she thought about sisters, she would have one to console herself. Valor would not be enthusiastic to discover another sister would leave the house. “Valor,” she said softly.

“She will not be pleased, I imagine?”

Verity shook her head. “Lord Thorpe got her a puppy, Sir Galahad. Though, never mention that to her—she does think she rescued the dog from an evil earl intent on drowning him.”

“That was all set up by Lord Thorpe, though?”

“As a distraction, and it worked very well.”

“I understand Sir Galahad is the most tremendous dog in England. At least, I’ve been told so more than once. Perhaps I might do something for him.”

“What do you think of?”

“Let me work on it. Ah, here comes your father.”

“Well, Verity, guess what? We’ve been left high and dry by our monarch. Said she had enough amusement for one evening and we could make our own way home. Slipped out the back like a housebreaker to avoid the palaver of leaving in state.”

*

Henry could not be more pleased with how the night had unfolded. It had its high mountaintops and low valleys, but it had come right in the end. He was an engaged man. Engaged to the most delightful lady in England.

It was almost hard to believe his luck.

The idea that Lady Verity experienced word spinning had come as a surprise, though he found it did explain quite a lot.

It was no matter; they would hire a woman in Somerset to take over the task.

In the meantime, he would act as Lady Verity’s reader.

Why not? Should not a man besotted read to his wife?

As the queen had left her party behind with no conveyance home, Henry had instantly offered his own carriage.

They waited for Lady Darlington to name the prizes for the costumes and then they were off.

Henry was not surprised that Lady Verity came out victorious for the best costume—she’d been dressed by the queen, nobody else would have stood a chance.

Still, she was exceedingly pleased with the India shawl she’d won and would hand it over to Valor to soften the oncoming blow.

The carriage ride had been a bit awkward, as Henry could not leap across the seat to Lady Verity with her father sitting right next to her.

Lady Pegatha smoothed it over by rattling on about the various costumes and who had looked charming and who had, perhaps, flattered themselves.

According to his aunt, a lady of Mrs. Patton’s years had no business dressing as a saucy lady’s maid.

The duke had laughed heartily. “I believe the effect was meant to be pert, but her girth rather defied the idea.”

As Lady Pegatha and the duke went on, he and Lady Verity simply stared at each other. Just as they had done when he’d gone to the duke’s house for dinner.

It seemed he would have the opportunity to stare at the lady all his life.

They’d reached the duke’s house and Henry was determined to escort Lady Verity to her door. It was entirely unnecessary, as the duke was there, but Henry hoped His Grace would not mind too much.

The duke was a liberal sort of gentleman so pretended he did not particularly notice. While his back was turned, Henry gave Lady Verity a light kiss on the cheek.

“Oh no!” a cry came from over their heads.

Henry looked up to see Lady Valor hanging out a window. And looking rather irate.

“I’d better go in and smooth things over,” Lady Verity said.

“I will come tomorrow,” Henry said.

“Yes, but don’t miss the lecture at The Royal Society,” she said. “I will be quite interested to hear of it.”

“Really? The effect of magnesia on uric acid?”

“No, not really. But I should not like to interfere with your studies.” Lady Verity paused. “You do not dissect monkeys, do you?”

“No,” he said, laughing. “I do not dissect anything.”

She looked most relieved to hear it, and Henry supposed she’d picked it up from the correspondence between Carlisle and Symmons regarding the circulatory systems of slow-moving animals.

“Verity?” the duke said.

“Go away!” Lady Valor shouted at him from overhead.

Henry bowed and made his way back to the carriage. He climbed in and then waved to her as she peeked out the drawing room windows.

Lady Pegatha sat back, looking very pleased. “So you’ve done it.”

“I have done it.”

“I think you will do very well together.”

“I think so too.”