Page 37 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)

V erity had begun to look upon her youngest sister as a capricious potentate who could only be soothed by offerings laid at her feet.

When she’d gone abovestairs after the masque, she’d ignored Valor’s glare and handed over the India shawl she’d won from Lady Darlington.

Valor had been the littlest bit mollified, or so Verity had thought.

As it happened, what had mollified Valor was a sudden idea that had come into her mind. The following morning, she’d convinced Thomas to deliver a letter to Lord Wembly’s house by claiming Verity wrote it and it was a secret love note.

It had been anything but. Valor had gone so far as to compose a letter and sign Verity’s name to it.

Fortunately, Lord Wembly had not been at all fooled by it. He brought it along when he came to the house the following day. Handing it to Verity in the drawing room, he remarked upon Lady Valor’s suspicious absence. She would later be found hiding in a corner of her bedchamber with Sir Galahad.

Verity had unfolded the note to reveal the most outrageously composed breaking off of an engagement.

Lord Wembly—

It pains me to take this step but I must tell you to go away forever. After thinking about things, I realized that I cannot leave my Papa, or my sisters, or Sir Galahad. What do you really have to offer against all that? Also, I don’t want to be stared at while I’m asleep.

My mind is made up. Do not ever come to the house to talk to me about it! This is goodbye forever! Do not come here!

Verity Nicolet

One might imagine a young lady breaking off an engagement that was not her own would be scolded severely.

Which she certainly would have, had the duke not found the letter so amusing.

At the end of it, Valor had only shrugged and said she must have been sleepwalking when she wrote it.

She really could not remember anything about it.

The following day, despite his having his troth broken by her hand, Valor received a rather magnificent gift. Lord Wembly had delivered a bed for Sir Galahad.

Rather than the pile of blankets by the window that he liked to nap on, or Valor’s bed when she was around to lift him into it, this was a bed fit for a monarch’s canine.

It was a four-poster canopy bed in miniature, with silk hangings and an overstuffed mattress.

It even came with a brass plaque announcing it belonged to Sir Galahad, the most tremendous dog in England.

Like the capricious potentate she was, Valor was greatly soothed by this offering from one of her acolytes.

She took to sitting with Mrs. Right and, under the housekeeper’s close direction, sewing little pillows to go on this remarkable new bed.

The duke had since been informed that it must travel with them to the Dales.

Winsome predicted her chances of a successful season without Valor throwing a lit torch on the proceedings grew slimmer by the day. At least, if history was anything to go by.

Since then, Lord Wembly had come every day.

Sometimes, they sat in the drawing room.

Sometimes, they rode to the park with the duke’s grooms following for propriety’s sake.

Verity was insistent that Lord Wembly not miss any special lectures at The Royal Society.

He would come and recount what he’d heard, even the effects of magnesia on reducing uric acid.

Verity took it all in, every new fact was interesting.

The morning came when she was determined to call on Lady Lilith. She did not know if it were the lady’s at-home day, but she had discovered where the lady resided through Felicity. She was on Berwick Street.

Verity had not prior traveled to Berwick Street.

It was respectable enough, but she’d somehow assumed that Lady Lilith would live on a square.

Despite the very modest appearance of the street and worrying that Felicity might have got it wrong, Verity was determined to proceed.

She could not ignore a heartbroken lady and was determined to cheer her up.

She would point out all the admiring glances she’d seen going in Lady Lilith’s direction.

Verity had not seen any particularly admiring glances, but that had only been because she’d not been looking out for them.

Lady Lilith was very pretty and an earl’s daughter.

Certainly there had been no end of admiring glances.

Her father’s groom rapped on the door. He had to rap several times and Verity waited for some minutes before it was answered by a rather surprised young lady in a stained apron. At least, Verity supposed she must be surprised as her mouth was hanging open.

“Lady Verity Nicolet,” she said. “I’ve come to call on Lady Lilith, if it is convenient.”

*

Lilith had spent the past week attempting to dodge her father over the idea that she must seriously consider Mr. Grantley’s suit.

It was not that her father was at all admiring of Mr. Grantley, or at all admiring of the idea that his daughter might marry a gentleman in trade.

It was just the economy of the thing. They might scrape the money together for another season but what was it all for?

Their best chance had been Lord Wembly, and he had engaged himself elsewhere.

Lady Verity had stolen Lord Wembly right from under her nose. She’d taken one of the few single gentlemen who did not need a substantial dowry.

“I’ll give you one thing,” Clara said, “it’s a deal more complicated to be one of the high and mighty than I thought. I got a pa who makes a fine living so I can marry or not and won’t find myself in the poor house. Then here is you, having to marry a fellow you don’t even like.”

“I do not have to marry Mr. Grantley,” Lilith said. “I’ve not agreed to it. At least, not yet.”

There had been incessant knocking on the downstairs door. Lilith presumed it was a tradesman dunning for a bill. “Why does not that kitchen maid answer it and tell that person to be gone?” Lilith said.

“She’ll be pretendin’ she don’t hear it, the little minx,” Clara said. “I’ll go and see to it.”

Before Clara could go and see to it, the kitchen maid threw the door open and said, “She’s come to see ya. A lady.”

The kitchen maid stepped aside, and Lady Verity sailed into the room. Lilith and Clara leapt to their feet.

“Lady Verity?” Lilith asked, hardly believing her own eyes. Why was she here? She must have discovered Lilith was the author of the print. Was she to be denounced? Was everybody to know what she’d done?

Lady Verity crossed the room and took her by the hands. “Lady Lilith, how well you look! I apologize for barging in unexpectedly, but I did not know when your at-home day was and I was determined to see you. You do not mind it?”

Lilith shook her head. It was an extremely odd and exceedingly friendly greeting if it was a prelude to any recriminations about the print.

“I’ll arrange tea,” Clara said, bobbing a curtsy and running from the room.

“Might I sit?” Lady Verity asked.

“Yes, of course,” Lilith said.

They sat on the sofa of the cramped room that was used as a drawing room of sorts. “What a pleasant room,” Lady Verity said. “It’s sunny, which is always so cheerful.”

Lilith looked around. Certainly, for a lady like this, a lady who lived on Grosvenor Square in a fine house, there was nothing particularly pleasant about the room. Was she being mocked? Was it being pointed out to her that the room was small and the furnishings worn?

“I did so long to see you,” Lady Verity said, “I found I could not delay longer.”

Certainly the lady knew about the print and had come to gloat over her success. Lilith found herself too tired to even fight against it. “You’ve won, Lady Verity. I freely admit it. Do your worst.”

Lady Verity seemed entirely startled by the admission.

“If by won,” she said slowly, “you mean Lord Wembly. Yes, we are engaged. I have not come to do my worst, whatever that would entail. I came because I know what it is to be heartbroken, and you do not have sisters to commiserate with. You did love him, I imagine?”

Lilith was sent into a tailspin. She’d come as a sister? It was preposterous.

“I can see that you do, or at least did,” Lady Verity said, shaking her head sadly. “But I am of the belief that fate has a plan for all of us. Whoever is truly meant for you will appear. I am quite sure of it.”

This was too much. Who was she to speak in such a manner?

Was she to act the local vicar counseling one of his flock?

“Oh yes, fate has a plan for me all right,” she said bitterly.

“I will be forced to wed a man in trade who is ten years my senior because of my father’s reduced circumstances.

Lord Wembly might have prevented all that.

He is very rich and does not require a dowry, which I do not have.

But as you said, fate had something else in store. ”

Clara came into the room with their sad-looking tea tray. Lilith wished there had been no tea coming at all. She wished Lady Verity to leave, and she certainly did not wish the lady to note the difference between this paltry service and what she was used to at home.

“Did you love Lord Wembly, though?” Lady Verity asked.

“I liked him well enough,” Lilith said, pouring the tea and spilling some of it on the linen that covered the cracked porcelain tray.

“But you see, I love him,” Lady Verity said. “I really, really love him and do not give a toss for his money. I would love him if he had nothing at all.”

That was the absolute limit. She would love him if he had nothing at all. “Oh yes, why not?” she said. “It is insanely easy to imagine one would not mind doing without funds when one has never experienced it. I can assure you it is not so easy when you have experienced it.”

Lady Verity took her cup from Lilith’s shaking hands. “I see. But will your father really press you to wed a gentleman you do not like?”