Page 39 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)

H enry was in the front hall, awaiting Lady Verity’s descent.

He’d felt compelled to do so. Such was his luck in securing the lady, he would not fully believe in it until they were pronounced married.

It was not completely unknown that a bride might change her mind at the last minute.

It would cause a scandal, but he did not suppose a scandal would ever put the duke off.

Then, of course, one never knew if Lady Valor would attempt to throw a wrench into the works. He had already seen that young lady cause some sort of ruckus in the dining room. It was to do with the salt cellars, though what specifically, he had no idea.

And then, Lady Lilith was in attendance.

Verity had told him all about writing to the queen on Lady Lilith’s behalf, which he’d really not thought a good idea.

However, she told him after it was already done so there was no point debating it.

Now the queen would attend them. His bride had been determined to have Lady Lilith on hand so she might be in front of Her Majesty.

He heard a stir from above and looked up. There she was, accompanied by Mrs. Right and Lady Winsome. She was perfect. Her dress seemed to float in the air around her and it was everything pure and sunshine. His lady really did have very refined taste.

She skipped down the stairs to him. “Verity,” he said, “you look lovely. The loveliest lady in London. You are perfect.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Hello, my baron.”

Just then, Charlie raced through the front hall. “The queen! Her carriage just arrived.”

Henry held his arm out and Verity leaned on it. Though she had met the queen twice already and she’d found the lady very kind, she seemed nervous to find the Queen of England was moments from stepping into her father’s house.

“Steady on,” he whispered.

She smiled at him. Charlie threw the doors open. The queen and Lady Pembroke stepped into the great hall and both footmen bowed low. Thomas in particular bowed so low that Henry wondered if his forehead had touched his knees. He led Lady Verity forward and they made their obeisance.

“A handsome couple, do not you think, Lady Pembroke?” the queen said.

“Very handsome indeed,” Lady Pembroke said.

The duke, hearing of the arrival, came from the drawing room to greet the queen. He led her and Lady Pembroke to places of honor. Henry led Verity in, handed her over to the duke, and approached the curate.

The drawing room was full of people, as the duke had a large family.

All of the elder sisters and their husbands had come.

It was only Lady Pegatha and Leland Dunmore, the Marquess of Manderbey, for his side.

Manderbey, who’d he’d been friends with since his school days, had come in from Hertfordshire for the ceremony.

Lady Verity was accompanied by her bridesmaids, Lady Winsome and Lady Lilith.

Lady Valor might have been a bridesmaid too, but she was currently sulking in the back row of chairs and whispering, no doubt, insulting things to her dog.

Henry had attended his share of weddings over the years, but he was not certain he’d ever seen one presided over by a curate who appeared minutes from a faint.

The poor man’s hands shook, his face was pale, and his voice wavering.

Henry was not certain if the cause was some prior interactions with the duke, or the queen’s attendance. Perhaps it was both.

Nevertheless, the fellow plowed on. The duke gave his daughter to him and Henry said his piece. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

He slipped the ring onto Lady Verity’s finger. He’d had it specially designed as an acrostic spelling out troth: topaz, ruby, onyx, tourmaline, and heliodor. He had pledged his troth, and his lady would know it every day of her life.

What a lucky man he was.

*

Lilith hardly knew how she came to be a bridesmaid attending Lady Verity and Lord Wembly’s wedding, with the Queen of England just feet away from her. Lady Verity had informed her that she’d written to the queen on Lilith’s behalf and that the queen indicated she would consider it.

She did not know what could be done for her, should the queen decide to take an interest. What she did know, though, was that she would be forever grateful to Lady Verity Nicolet, now Baroness Wembly, for her kindness.

Even if she was forced to wed Mr. Grantley, she would not forget that somebody had tried to help her, and that particular somebody was the person she had sought to hurt the most.

It had been a powerful lesson, and she was chastened by it. She was also determined to carry forward Lady Verity’s example. Should she encounter another lady requiring assistance and should she be in a position to help, she would help. She would take it on as a penance.

As she looked around at the large family gathered round, she wondered…she hoped, that she might have the same someday.

Only time would tell.

*

Verity’s mind, which had been habitually filled with ideas on how she could hide her word swimming, was only filled with one thing now. She was married, she was married, she was married. She was married to Henry Foster, the most wonderful baron to ever take a breath in England.

The ceremony had concluded, and probably in the nick of time for Mr. Amesbey.

The poor curate looked vastly relieved to have got through it.

The duke, ever liberal, invited him to stay on for the wedding breakfast. Verity was not terribly surprised when he demurred, mentioning prior appointments.

He’d hurried out of the house as fast as his legs could carry him.

The party had since moved into the dining room.

The footmen had added extra leaves to the table to accommodate the crowd, as on a usual day, they favored smaller parties.

Now, not only did they have the queen, Lady Pembroke, and Lord Wembly’s friend, the marquess, but when one added in all her sisters and their husbands, it was a proper party.

Since it was the queen, the seating arrangements were a bit different than they might have been. That lady took the top of the table with the marquess to her right and the duke took the bottom with Lady Pembroke to his right.

Fortunately, Verity did not give a toss where anybody was sitting. She had been seated next to Henry and he held her hand under the table.

After the wine had gone round, the duke said, “Here we all are. Your Majesty, it has become somewhat of a tradition in this house that my youngest daughter, Lady Valor, starts us off on account of threatening to never leave me and be my hostess forever. Valor?”

Verity was certain her eyes had gone wide. At least, if they were anything like the eyes of her sisters. Valor was wildly unpredictable.

Valor herself was wide-eyed. “Am I allowed?” she said.

“Why not?” the duke said.

“Because you might go to prison, Papa. On account of I’m too young. You’d have to go in my place.”

“Oh dear,” Verity whispered to Henry, “Winsome and I told her that.”

“Prison? What in the world were you planning on saying?” the duke asked.

“Now I am too intrigued, I must hear it,” the queen said. “Go on, child, nobody is going to prison.”

Valor seemed much encouraged by that assurance. “Well, I will say that just because five of my sisters have made a mistake doesn’t mean we all need to make that mistake.” She paused and stared meaningfully at Winsome. “It’s too late for Verity, but it’s not too late for you.”

These sage words of advice were met with silence, as nobody quite knew what to say to it. Suddenly, the queen laughed. She said, “Am I to understand that you are firmly against your sisters getting married? Why?”

Valor looked at the queen as if she was perplexed as to why it would need explaining. She said, “The men stare at you while you sleep. Mr. Stratton already admitted it!”

“One time,” Mr. Stratton muttered.

“I see,” Queen Charlotte said. “I suppose it is hard that you do not have your sisters by your side any longer. I suppose it is hard that they have all gone to other counties.”

“It really is!” Valor said.

“Well, young lady, consider this—I was not just sent to another county, I was sent to another country. I did not know the language or the culture very well and I did not meet my king until our wedding day.”

This, quite naturally, horrified Valor. “Did you try to run away?”

“Certainly not. I faced it,” the queen said. “And over time, the one thing I learned from the English is their ability to chin up and soldier on. As you will do, even if you find the circumstances trying.”

“Maybe I could.” Then, seeming to consider the idea, Valor said, “Do you want to see my dog? He really is tremendous.”

“Perhaps later,” the queen said kindly. “I do like a tremendous dog.”

And so, they went on very jolly after the hurdle of Valor’s speech had been cleared.

It did eventually come time for the couple to depart. Dear Lady Pegatha had given over her house and would stay at the duke’s house for the night. In the morning, the couple would set off for the Isle of Wight.

They were waved off by a crowd of people, including the Queen of England. Never had any couple been so blessed.

And then, alone. Finally.

Lady Pegatha’s household staff were the souls of discretion.

A sideboard in the dining room had been set up with cold meats, cheeses, rolls, and pastries.

Bottles of champagne, hock, and lemonade stood on ice blocks in porcelain buckets.

Where the people were who had set it all out, Verity could not say.

They had seemed to disappear into the walls.