Page 9 of Lady Liar (A Series of Senseless Complications #5)

“You’ll never guess. My brandy flask has mysteriously drained itself. Happens every time I am locked up in this celebration of how dull the English can be when we really try.” Her father turned to Lord Wembly. “Wembly, is it? A baron, so I’m told.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Lord Wembly said.

“Hah! Could be worse, nobody ever knows what to do with a baronet. Say, Wembly, I’m having a dinner on Friday, come along. You can bring your aunt too—I’ve not seen Lady Pegatha in an age. Well now, girl, can we be off before I either fall asleep or throw my empty flask at Lady Misery’s head?”

That was quite a speech, and Lord Wembly did seem rather bowled over by it. However, Verity did not care a whit about that. She was rescued from being forced to expound any further on the circulatory systems of slow-moving animals.

What had she done? After she’d said that preposterous notion, she’d quickly concluded that she must never speak to Lord Wembly again. Now he was coming to dinner.

*

Henry was both charmed and confounded by Lady Verity Nicolet.

He’d been surreptitiously glancing at her all evening leading up to squiring her himself.

She was painfully beautiful; an old master could not conjure a more lovely lady.

And then, she seemed so genial. At least, he imagined so as she was very often smiling.

He’d seen other gentlemen’s glances too and would not be the least surprised if she very speedily collected herself a pile of suitors. The diamond of the season, they’d all say.

She probably was the diamond of the season already, though he wished not so many gentlemen had seemed to notice it.

When they’d danced, her geniality was confirmed. His thoughts had raced far ahead of him. Would it not be the best course for his life to complete his studies of a day and then leave his library to find a beautiful and genial baroness waiting for him? He rather thought it was.

What confounded him was the conversation they’d had at supper.

Even though he’d cautioned himself not to mention his research, he had mentioned it.

Then she’d claimed to be looking into the very same question.

He really did not believe it, though. When he asked her if she’d come to any conclusions, she’d just rearranged the words of the topic.

The carriage rattled along the streets to Berkeley Square while his Aunt Pegatha eyed him from the other side of the carriage.

“I only say, she is very pretty,” she said.

“She is a duke’s daughter, too. Quite a mad duke, but I do not get the idea it runs in the family, so no harm there.

In any case, I find his brand of madness wildly entertaining. You could do worse.”

Henry was well aware that his aunt spoke of Lady Verity. Even if the duke had not been mentioned, he would know it. “There was something odd that came up, though. I do not know what to make of it.”

He gazed out the window and felt the sudden rap of a fan on his leg. “Gracious me, you are not to tell me something odd has happened and then not expound on it, you rascal.”

Henry hardly knew how to explain it. He did not wish to name Lady Verity a liar…but he was relatively certain she was a liar.

“Come now, what did you discover?” Lady Pegatha asked. “Is she a murderess? A spy for the French? An impostor of some sort?”

“Not that I know of. However, I mentioned my research, and yes, I am aware that I should not have, as it will bore a lady—”

“Good heavens, do not tell me she was not bored, that peculiar girl.”

“Aunt, she claimed she was looking into the same question. I was startled, I can tell you, as I had not imagined any young lady was examining the circulatory systems of slow-moving animals—”

“Nor I.”

“So I asked her if she’d come to any conclusions and she only rearranged the words. She said she believed the animals moved slow because of their circulatory system.”

Lady Pegatha snorted. “Did she now?”

“Yes, she did. I do not like to say it, but…I really believe she was lying.”

This caused his aunt to heave with laughter. When she caught her breath, she said, “That unconscionable little flirt. Oh goodness, I am amused.”

Henry was taken aback. “Do you mean to say that was some sort of flirtatious gambit?”

“Of course I mean to say it, as I just did say it. She is young and inexperienced and thought she might be a looking glass reflecting your interests back on you. Hmm, I wonder how far she will take it.”

“How far? I think she’s gone quite far enough. How much further could she go?”

Lady Pegatha shrugged. “She is the Duke of Pelham’s daughter, who knows how far she’ll take it. It’s bound to be amusing.”

Henry leaned back. He was not altogether certain what he thought of it. On the one hand, it was gratifying to imagine that Lady Verity had attempted to flirt with him. On the other hand, it was really a very odd thing to claim.

Perhaps it had only been nerves. Perhaps his aunt was right—she was young and inexperienced and had attempted to impress him with an ill-advised gambit.

“By the by,” he said, “the duke has invited us to dine on Friday. Actually, it might even have been an order as he did not actually ask. I suppose we will go?”

“Of course we will go, I would not miss out on it for the world. I would like to get a closer look at this lady who has caught your eye.”

“I did not say she has caught my eye.”

“Hasn’t she?”

“Maybe. But what she said—”

“Wembly, I am certain you will hear nothing further about her supposed research. She probably died inside as soon as she said it. She’ll not utter another word about it. It would behoove you to pretend you’d never heard it.”

Henry nodded. His aunt was likely right.

After all, what did he know of a lady’s flirtations?

Up until now, he’d been oblivious to the fairer sex, he’d been entirely taken up with his research and The Royal Society.

He would not embarrass her by raising the subject.

As one of his tutors used to say, sometimes it was better to allow an awkward moment to die a quiet death.

Yes, that was what he would do. He would forget he’d ever heard her invent such an absurd notion and it would die a quiet death. Perhaps it was even charming that positing such an absurdity was her bumbling attempt at a flirtation.

In the meantime, he would write Sir Jonathan to be certain that Lady Verity Nicolet had been sent an invitation to his charity scavenger hunt.

*

Verity laid herself down on the sofa in the library and dramatically laid a cold compress over her eyes.

As anyone who has something terrible to hide would be well aware, her mind had spent hours the night before racing over how to avoid discovery.

And finally, a solution had been found. Or at least, a place to start.

First, Winsome had been told of her aim, and then Serenity when she’d walked over from two doors down. Then Patience when she’d arrived. As of now, they all understood that Verity Nicolet was making serious inquiry into the circulatory systems of slow-moving animals.

She had, of course, had to explain herself as to why she would wish to make such an inquiry.

Fortunately, her sisters seemed very understanding over the idea that she’d just blurted something out and now must cover her tracks.

They saw the logic in sharing an interest with Lord Wembly, even if they did not entirely see the logic of it being about circulatory systems and slow-moving animals.

Patience had set off to Lackington & Allen to discover if there were any books on slow-moving animals, circulatory systems, or both.

Winsome located their father’s collection of Royal Society papers to see if there was anything to be had in there. After all, Lord Wembly would read them and possibly contribute to them. It would be well to know what he knew.

Serenity scanned their father’s library shelves for anything that might prove illuminating.

The plan, in its entirety, was that Verity would discover enough to back up her ridiculous claim of the evening before. Then, at some later date, she would pretend to lose interest in the subject and never mention it again.

As for Verity herself, she’d claimed a headache that made her eyes hurt so she could not participate in the investigations into the literature. She’d done so in the past from time to time to encourage Winsome to read to her and it had led her family to presume she was prone to headaches.

In the past, the strategy had never amounted to much, as Winsome usually got bored with whatever subject Verity wished to know about and picked up a gothic novel instead.

If it would be considered educated to know how many ways an innocent young lady could be in mortal danger in a damp castle, she would be a lauded intellectual by now!

This time, though, Winsome was wholly focused on the task at hand.

Valor was a bit of another story. One could not very well tell her of a ruse and expect her to keep it a secret.

She would try, usually, but she had far too many slip-ups.

On top of that, Valor would hardly be approving of a scheme to impress a gentleman.

She could barely contain her pique when their father had mentioned over breakfast that Lord Wembly was coming to dine on Friday.

For all Valor knew about it, Verity had all along been examining the question of circulatory systems in slow-moving animals and had simply decided to devote much more time to it.

The youngest Nicolet had speedily become bored with the subject and took Sir Galahad into the drawing room.

She was teaching the little dog to play Vingt-et-un by laying the cards on the carpet and giving him the signal to tap his paw on the deck when he wanted another card.

He was getting very good at it, since he got a little piece of biscuit every time he tapped.

His biggest challenge these days was enthusiastically tapping too much and going over twenty-one.

“Oh, wait a minute,” Winsome said, “here’s a paper that mentions slow-moving animals.”

Verity sat up, the cold compress sliding off her face. She quickly put it back on. “What does it say? What is it about?”

“Gracious, what a palaver. The title of it, if you can believe it, is an “Account of a Peculiarity in the Distribution of the Arteries sent to the Limbs of slow-moving Animals together with some other Facts.” It is a letter written six years ago from a surgeon named Mr. Anthony Carlisle to an esquire named Mr. John Symmons.”

“That is precisely the sort of thing I must find out about,” Verity said. “What does it say about slow-moving animals?” She was not entirely certain if information on arteries was precisely what they looked for, but it was the closest thing they’d come upon so far.

There was a moment’s silence and Verity peeked out from her cold compress. Winsome was reading and looking horrified while she was doing it. She laid the paper down and said, “I cannot even read it. It is too horrible. Especially not with Serenity in the room.”