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Her mother’s eyes flashed. “Upon my word, you will mind your tongue, Verity! It is these willful ways of yours that led to….”
Her mother looked away and Verity stared at her in pained silence. “It is my willful tongue which allowed a dishonest libertine to try and take my virtue?” Though she was just as surprised her mother had been about to mention the incident. Neither mamma nor Albert normally spoke of the pain of Verity’s past of their own volition.
Red swept along her mother’s elegant cheekbones and Verity fought down the guilt which had tormented her in the early days. If she had not flirted with the marquess, allowed his chaste kisses, walked alone with him by the lake and the grotto…she would have been safe. It had taken her a long time to realize that the dishonor belonged to him alone, and it had been the gentle guidance of her dear Aunt Imogen which had helped Verity.
When her mamma finally shifted her eyes back to Verity there was such heartbreak and pain in them, it almost strangled her. “Mamma?”
Her mother’s eyes welled with tears and Verity’s hand fluttered to her throat.
“Verity, my dear—”
A knock interrupted, and the butler entered to announce Lady Metcalf and her two daughters. Verity stood to receive their callers and her hands trembled as she smoothed down the skirts of her dress. There had been such strong emotions on her mother’s face, it reminded Verity of a time when her mother had kissed her bruises and hugged her before putting her to bed.
Lady Metcalf and her daughters entered, and her mother shifted into the consummate hostess, greeting them with pleasant warmth, and ringing for more tea and pastries. Verity hardly paid attention to the ladies of the ton who made their weekly calls at their townhouse—a few matrons her mother’s age with their marriageable daughters in obedient tow, all with the aim of securing her brother as a suitor. Before two in the afternoon they had received four callers. One was Lord Aldridge with whom Verity was obliged to take a turn in the small gardens at the back of the townhouse in full view of her mother from the drawing room.
He was a very elegant young gentleman who boasted a fashionable appearance. He was slimly built, with plain features, but with an air of considerable self-consequence. Which would be expected by some, since he was a viscount with a rumored income of over thirty thousand pounds a year. Could he truly be impoverished as the rumors hinted and sought an heiress?
He was surprisingly pleasant and amusing, but Verity only felt a sense of wariness around him and could not escape the knowledge that he and the marquess Durham were close friends. Did pits of snakes not writhe together? They spent several minutes in discourse with an exchange of very proper nothings—the weather, the latest on dits, and even a lemon pie he had eaten earlier.
“Oh dear!” she said in a deliberately dramatic fashion, but with charming civility. “I just recalled I have an urgent meeting, Lord Aldridge. I must take my leave right away. Please apologize to your mother for me.”
“Certainly,” he replied with such cordiality she felt a slight pang of guilt for her dismissive attitude. “I do hope everything is well, Lady Verity.”
“My lord,” Verity said, “May I speak frankly?”
He dealt her a considering glance. “It would please me.”
“I will not consent to a courtship if that is your desire. I am certain my brother made some assurance that I will agree to such a union, but he misspoke. I apologize sincerely.”
Lord Aldridge’s eyes widened and a flush ran along his neckline. Then he assessed her in narrowed-eye contemplation. “You are a delicately nurtured female with little understanding of the world, Lady Verity. Your brother and I believe we shall suit very well indeed,” he said chidingly, as if she were a simpleton.
Verity lifted a brow. “You are affable and gentlemanly, but I will only be persuaded to marry a man I have the deepest affections for. And one who loves me in return. I suspect that will not be the situation with you.”
“You are very decided with your arguments,” he replied testily.
“It would be silly to be hesitant on matters of such grave importance. We will not suit, and I shall not be persuaded against my heart…ever. I also suspect my brother neglected to mention my inheritance is not transferable upon marriage. And with the rumors swirling of your gambling debt, my dowry is not a tempting enough morsel to justify persuasion on your part, my lord.”
Lord Aldridge’s face mottled with the force of his anger, but she lifted her chin and held her ground. He turned on his heel and walked off, his lips tightly compressed. Her mamma would be furious but Verity could hardly drum up the withal to care. She went inside and collected her pelisse, hat, reticule, and an umbrella. The sky appeared decidedly overcast, quite befitting her current mood.
As she exited the townhouse, she could hear mamma’s twinkling laughter as she entertained her callers. Fortunately, Lady Caroline also lived in Grosvenor Square, only a few minutes’ walk from Verity’s own home. Walking briskly, she arrived at Caroline’s home just as she was being handed up in a carriage by a livered footman. A lady’s maid, who was to act as a chaperone, hovered by the carriage steps.
“Verity darling, how good of you to come,” Caroline cried, her pretty gray eyes sparkling with her usual
humor and delight, her dark red ringlets styled fashionably to set off her gentle beauty. “I’m off to High Holborn for a spot of shopping, would you care to accompany me?”
Verity made her way over and was also assisted into the equipage by the footman. “I would be delighted, Caro. Though I am perturbed by the frequency of your shopping. It was only last week we bought an indecent number of hats and no less than three new parasols.”
“I only indulge every Monday and Thursday,” Caroline objected with a wink. “Papa can afford it and I do like new dresses.”
They laughed, and as the carriage rumbled off, Verity informed her of all that had happened since they last spoke.
“Oh Dear! Lord Maschelly took you to a gambling club and a prizefighting match? That man is truly wicked!”
Once they arrived in High Holborn, they strolled arm in arm, the footman keeping abreast at a suitable distance. They made several purchases, pored over fashion plates, and ordered a few gowns. They ran into Miss Cecelia Markham, a pleasant young lady with whom she was well-acquainted from Bedfordshire. They all visited Gunter’s together and indulged in an ice, chatting and laughing over the latest on dits, before promising to call on each other next week.
Upon returning home, her mother waited, fairly vibrating with anger. She was somewhat mollified by the shopping boxes, for such actions signaled to her that Verity was fully on board with the plan to net a wealthy lord, preferably of her and Albert’s choosing. Refusing to quarrel with her mother, she had hurried to her room, and closed the door with a snick.
Those diversions had kept her mind occupied for the day, but now Verity fairly vibrated with nerves and excitement to be on her way to meet with Lord Maschelly. Three hours remained before his carriage and coachman would arrive behind the mews.
