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A grimace of anger crossed her brother’s face. He did not like whenever Verity mentioned the “distasteful incident,” the sobriquet he’d applied to her greatest shame and pain.
"We have agreed to leave that distasteful in—"
“In Bedfordshire, I know. So you and mamma repeatedly inform me with little regards to my feelings and well-being.”
“Verity!” her mother scolded, disapproval crinkling the lines at her mouth. "There is no need to castigate your brother. We are supporting you in not speaking of your behavior and how it almost ruined a connection with Lord—"
“Do not speak his name!” She tried to steady her voice. In another moment she would be weeping, she realized with panic. It would kill something inside of her if they realized how much the entire dreadful encounter still scared and pained her. Not when they had not cared. Not when they cared more about their connections in the ton than her safety and happiness. Not when they held no belief in her honor. “If you will excuse me.”
She pushed her chair back, stood, and sedately made her way from the breakfast room before she did something shocking like throwing the dish of strawberry preserves into her brother’s face. Pausing, she turned around and lifted her chin. “Father would have been abjectly ashamed of both of you for he would never have permitted anyone to escape the consequences of such vile actions.” There, before she’d not have the courage to say it to their faces.
Her mother called her name, and Verity pretended not to hear the admonition. She made her way to her room and over to her writing desk. There she lowered herself into a chair and reached into the small drawer for a sheaf of paper. She would pen a letter to the earl, but what could she say? She had already revealed so much of her fears and vulnerabilities to a man she did not know. The awareness had left her sleep troubled, an unknown desperation lodged inside her heart.
Tonight, she would see Marquess Durham. Bile rose in her throat. Courage, Verity, she reminded herself. They were of the same society, and she had to learn how to be in the vile cur’s presence without fighting the urge to cast up her accounts.
A knock sounded, and her lady’s maid Anna entered. “The Duchess of Carlyle has called for you, my lady.”
A swift rush of pleasure claimed Verity, and she forgot about writing a letter to plead with the earl. She and the Duchess had only become friends recently, after the scandal which had blasted through the ton just a few months past. Miss Pippa Cavanaugh, now the Duchess of Carlyle, had been a notorious gossip columnist who had snared herself one of society’s beloved dukes. Society had been a party to their love affair as some of their laundry had been aired in the newspapers to the delight of the ton.
The couple had been infamous, and even her mother had scrambled to invite the duke and duchess of Carlyle to their dinner parties and intimate circles. It was at Lady Somerton’s ball however Verity had made Pippa’s acquaintance. Verity had informed the new duchess how much her courage had inspired her, and they had become close. It was a friendship Verity treasured. She quickly changed into a more presentable gown, a light blue plaid taffeta dress, with its tight waist and elegant ruffled elbow-length sleeves.
Verity then made her way to the drawing room where the duchess awaited her. Pippa lowered her teacup when Verity entered and smiled brightly. The Duchess was draped in a dark yellow gown which flattered her curvaceous figure to its best advantage. Her dark hair was fashioned in an intricate chignon and several strands of lustrous pearls encircled her neck, with matching ear bobs.
“How did last night go?” she asked archly without indulging in any pleasantries.
Verity had been comfortable in confiding her plans to Pippa, and the duchess had been present at tea when Lady Caroline had named the earl as the gentleman to help Verity.
She laughed softly, even if without humor. She lowered herself beside the duchess on the sofa and shifted slightly, so they faced each other. “Disastrous. The earl refused. But I was not seen, and my family believes I spent the evening in my room with a book.”
Her gray eyes went soft with sympathy. “Oh Verity, I am terribly sorry. The notion had been hare-brained, but I did so hope for your sake he would agree.”
She leaned forward and poured herself another cup of tea from the service trolley. “My brother also seems determined to hand me off to Viscount Aldridge, a man whom I’ve no affection for. I do wish to marry and move away from this dreadful family, but I would like my husband to be my own choice.”
Pippa frowned. “I’ve every reason to believe that Viscount Aldridge is a fortune-hunter, and I should speculate on it and warn this season’s crop of fresh debutantes,” said the duchess. “The viscount and his younger brothers are notorious for their profligacy. I am at a loss as to why your brother would think such a match suitable! I daresay the viscount is after your inheritance.”
Her eyes held a great deal of intelligence as she stared at Verity. “What will you do?”
“About the Lord Maschelly or Lord Aldridge?”
The duchess popped a piece of cake and chewed thoughtfully before answering, “Both.”
“I will not marry Lord Aldridge even if they drag me kicking and screaming to the altar. I know who I want to marry. Not his name, but his character. Someone kind and gentle. Protective. Safe. A man who does not make me feel threatened.” An image of the earl’s brawn and the peculiar heat she’d felt upon looking at him brought a surge of discomfort through Verity. Oddly she hadn’t felt frightened in his presence, more of an awareness of his male appeal.
“As for the earl, perhaps I will be able to find myself another lord to assist.”
“I suppose there is more than one wicked rogue that could be convinced of your madness,” Pippa said.
The idea had been to approach a man on the fringe of society’s good graces, one wicked and scandalous enough that he would not care she was breaking the rules of propriety. He wouldn't care that she was being reckless and independent. He wouldn't care that she was trying to be bold. But he would have enough honor not to take advantage of her pain and need to learn. Only the earl of Maschelly had seemed to fit the type of man she needed.
“Unfortunately, no one else will do. Perhaps I will have to find another way to entice him to render aid.”
Pippa arched a brow. “I am all ears.”
Except she had no notion how to convince him. Frustrated Verity cried, “Perhaps I shall offer him kisses instead of lessons of etiquette. Isn’t he London’s wickedest earl? Perhaps I offered the wrong incentive!”
The duchess dissolved into a peal of laughter, and it was so carefree and unconcerned with decorum, Verity smiled. “I suppose it does seem a trifle unreasonable.”
“Only unreasonable?” the duchess asked with a twinkle in her eyes. “I cannot help think you found Lord Maschelly interesting.”
