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

Pressing reasons to embezzle? That was comforting.

Mrs. Right did not know what ship had delivered this person to their shores, but she was determined that another ship take him back again.

She would not even mind if it sank. “Pray, Mr. Klonsume, you have still not accounted for arriving in England.

Could you not find work in New York after the… embezzling…came to light?

“I did find work in New York, easy as you like. I saw an advertisement placed by an English viscount. That fellow looked for a valet while he was in our glorious town. We got on famously and so he brought me here with him. Funny fellow, drunk and looking like a tipped over statue more often than not—liked to have a valet that didn’t frown over it. ”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” Charlie asked. “With the drunk viscount.”

Mr. Klonsume’s brow wrinkled. “Very strange, that was. His father, he holds the purse strings, owns the house, an earl, wouldn’t you know. All sorts of complaints.”

Mrs. Right could just imagine what sorts of complaints.

“Anyway, the earl says I got to go, and my viscount was too drunk to stand up against him. There I was, far from home. But not at all put down, because I brought my American confidence with me. I see an advertisement for a butler for a duke’s household and mind, I wasn’t at all what the advertisement was calling for as it mentioned experience, English morals, and a stern taskmaster, but I answer all the same.

I outline all my American ideas and wouldn’t you know, Lady Marchfield was bowled over by them.

Said she never heard anything like it in her life.

Says she’ll give me the job and here I am.

Mind you, excited to try it out. Never been a butler before. ”

Mrs. Right could well imagine that Lady Marchfield was bowled over by this fellow’s American ideas. But what did he just say? “You’ve never been a butler?” she asked.

“Never in my life!”

“What were you doing in New York before you became the drunken viscount’s valet? At the embezzler’s house?”

“Driving Mr. Wellby’s carriage, then I get the job pouring my English viscount into his clothes, and here I am at the top of the heap—in charge of a duke’s house.

American ingenuity—it’ll take a man to the pinnacles of achievement.

Who knows, maybe I’m not even done climbing.

Might do some grand thing for the nation and get myself knighted.

Hah! Sir Morus—that would be tremendous! American confidence, after all.”

Mrs. Right distractedly tapped her spoon on her saucer. American confidence, indeed. She would confidently march this fellow right out the door. As soon as she thought of an idea on how to do it.

*

Before setting off to Almack’s, Verity had spent quite an amount of time looking into the glass in her bedchamber.

She wore a particularly pretty dress whose color Madame LaFray had named Prussian Blue.

It was deep and rich, and the dressmaker claimed it would complement her coloring.

She supposed she did look as well as she could do, and she supposed she would need to.

Verity well understood that her looks would have to carry her through. That, and being generally agreeable and using her well-practiced cover of pretending to understand a subject and judiciously adding to it by mentioning her understanding of the usual case.

None of it was very satisfactory, though. She would hide who she really was and then after the wedding—Surprise! You have married an empty-head of a lady who cannot read and does not know much. At least, much that she is sure of.

She thought there might be the slimmest chance that some gentleman would fall so violently in love with her that he would not care a whit about the deficiency. That was a very slim chance, though.

Whatever was to happen this evening, she would depend on her sisters to see her through. Serenity, who now lived just two doors down, had visited and told her that everybody was in Town and everybody would come to support her at Almack’s.

Verity stood. Mrs. Right had left her to see to the downstairs over a quarter of an hour ago. Valor and Winsome had been driven out of her room, as she’d said she needed some moments to compose herself. But now it was time. She must face Almack’s.

She went down the stairs to her father as he waited in the great hall. Mr. Klonsume rushed in out of nowhere. “Gad! There’s a fine filly!” he said to her.

What on earth was she to say to such a thing?

“Klondike, or whatever your name is,” the duke said, “do not ever make comment on my daughter’s appearance again. Go away.”

“Ah! English modesty. Right-O,” Mr. Klonsume said. He did not look at all perturbed to have been dismissed so out of hand. He turned on his heel and whistled to himself as he made his way to the back of the house.

The duke helped her into the carriage and climbed in after her. “I suppose Mrs. Right faces her biggest challenge yet with that court jester.”

“He is very strange, Papa.”

“It would strike you, I suppose. You’re accustomed to our rational English ways.”

“Papa, I’m a bit frightened. I suppose that’s a usual case?”

The duke regarded her. “I will assume you mean frightened of Almack’s and not our American interloper.”

Verity nodded. As always, her father was very perceptive.

“A very regular case, if your sisters are anything to go by. I always say the same thing—you are a duke’s daughter. Fear nobody but the queen, and she won’t be there.”

Verity wondered if she ought to mention that she feared the gentlemen of the ton would not find her very interesting.

After all, what did she know? However, it seemed a rather late date to mention she could not read.

That, coupled with the idea that she would not wish to disappoint her father by revealing he’d sired a very stupid daughter, turned her away from the idea.

The carriage made its way down King Street and rolled to a stop. “Here we are, chin up, Verity. Remember, you can look down on all the world if you like it.”

Verity appreciated the sentiment, but she knew very well that she had no right to look down on anybody. Rank could not confer intelligence. A tradesman’s schoolboy could run rings around her in the knowledge department. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

As she had been forewarned by her sisters, the interior of Almack’s was deceiving.

Had it not been Almack’s, it would not be thought very impressive.

But, as Felicity said, once an institution reached a particular pinnacle of power, it no longer needed to try very hard.

In fact, not bothering to try very hard was rather the point.

If that was true, then Almack’s had certainly climbed the heights. The carpet was positively threadbare in places and the curtains had that telltale faded look that came from exposure to the sun for a few too many years.

“Ah, Countess,” the duke said to a rather lovely lady in a midnight blue satin.

“There he is, the rascal of a duke with the never-ending supply of daughters,” the lady said, laughing.

Verity thought the lady looked far less imposing when she laughed. And good gracious, the lady seemed rather fond of her father. So many people seemed to disapprove of him that it was rather gratifying.

“Number five,” the duke said. “This one is Lady Verity. I’m launching them out of the house as fast as I can. Verity, this is the Countess of Westmoreland. She knows well enough that I’ve a flask of brandy in my coat and will not tell any tales about it.”

“Why should I? I drank my fill of champagne before I arrived. In any case, I suppose a duke can do what he likes.”

“That’s the spirit!” the duke said.

“Lady Verity,” the countess said, as Verity made her curtsy. “Charming. I do not imagine you will have any trouble in the launching out of the house your father is determined on.”

Verity supposed this was a comment on her looks, and she was a little relieved about it as she was counting on them to see her through.

“Now, I will manage your card as it’s your first time out. Do you have any particular preferences?”

Preferences? She knew nobody. The only preference she had at the moment was to dance with gentlemen who might approve of her. Such as she was. And not ask her any questions she would not know the answer to.

“Ah, never mind it, I see I have made you blush,” the countess said.

“Well, there are certainly plenty to pick from this evening. Lord Wembly has even decided to drag himself away from his intellectual pursuits to grace us with his presence. We did not see him at all last season, so I suppose we must feel the compliment.”

A gentleman with intellectual pursuits? Verity felt a chill down her spine. The last gentleman in London she would wish to be introduced to was one who was taken up with intellectual pursuits.

She longed to beg the countess to find her a Corinthian who would not know a book if it hit him over the head. She stayed silent, though, as how would a request such as that possibly be phrased?

“Carry on, duke, and do not be too naughty about showing that flask,” the countess said. “We should not like any other lords to pick up the habit.” She tapped his arm in a mock warning and sailed off to greet some newer arrivals.

The duke put out his arm and led Verity into the ballroom, she all the while praying this Lord Wembly person would be entirely engaged for the evening. Whoever he was, he was not for her, and she most certainly was not for him.

She searched the ballroom. There they were—her family contingent, all gathered together. Felicity with Mr. Stratton, Grace with Lord Dashlend, Patience with Lord Stanford, and Serenity with Lord Thorpe. All together, waiting for her.

“There’s my girls and my collection of sons-in-laws,” the duke said jovially, leading her to them.

Verity felt as if she were heading toward her life raft in a vast ocean of uncertainty.