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"No," she said with remarkable calm. "You did that by remaining friends with a blackguard who had attacked and hurt my mind, my body, my trust, and my pride. And I can only surmise now that you feel great shame that I, as a lady, had to defend my own honor."
He looked confounded by this forthright speech. “Defend your honor, Verity? Are you so foolish you have not seen that you have ruined your reputation? Who will have you now? I am just from Lord Aldridge's townhouse, and it took considerable convincing for him to agree that he will still have you despite the scandal. And that was after I persuaded him Lady V may refer to any other foolish hoyden! I am agog that you would sit here, proud of your actions, Verity. That incident with the marquess was almost five years ago, and you have held onto it with reproachable bitterness. You look at Mamma and me with unjust disappointment. What purpose would it have served for me to become enemies with the marquess over farfetched and unfounded accusations? He denied it most vehemently.”
“I am your sister,” she said, standing. “One whom loved you once, and I daresay you held affections for me as well. It was on that connection, Albert you should have protected me. Instead, you acted in a similarly dastardly and cowardly fashion. It is I who am ashamed to call you, brother.”
He stomped over to her, his hand raised in a threatening position to strike her. Verity shocked them both by smiling. Inside her heart pounded, her palms sweated, but she maintained an outward air of cultivated indifference. And Albert hesitated, apparently daunted by her lack of fear. "If you strike me, dear brother, I will not hesitate to retaliate in a similar fashion.”
“My God, you’ve gone mad,” he breathed.
She began to walk away, but he halted her, stretching to grasp her wrist. She wrenched herself free from his hold and went around him, anger rising in her chest.
“Albert!”
That sharp admonition came from their mother. She stood and stared at her children, and Verity was shocked to see the tears coursing down her mother’s cheeks. They turned into harsh sobs, and Verity glanced away, her own throat burning with emotions.
“Mamma, I know this seems bad now, but I shall fix it,” Albert murmured, going over to wrap his arms around her shoulders. “Her marriage to Lord Aldridge will render her respectable once more in society's eyes. It will take some time, but eventually, they will start inviting her to their drawing rooms and balls again.”
"Oh, my dear boy," her mother said tearily. "We failed Verity in the most odious fashion. And it was our actions which forced her to act in such a wretched manner."
Her bro
ther flinched, and she stared helplessly at her mother. Verity hadn't dreamed the countess would ever admit how they had wronged her.
“I am terribly sorry, Verity,” her mother gasped. “I do hope you will forgive me.”
“Mamma, your nerves are overwrought by this mess, you have nothing to apologize over,” Albert retorted with a fierce frown.
“One day I will, Mamma, but it is not today,” she said stiffly, and walked away, leaving them alone.
She ran up the stairs to her room, went over to her dressing table, and took up the sole pieces of jewelry she possessed—a sapphire necklace and earbobs. Gifts from her Papa on her fourteenth birthday, only a few months before he passed. She slipped them into the deep pockets of her day dress, shrugged on her pelisse and hat, and hurried back downstairs. Verity walked so fast it was almost a run. She did not want another confrontation with Albert before she could escape the confines of the townhouse. The butler opened the door for her, and she skidded to a halt.
James stood, his fist lifted to knock. He was dressed quite finely, and he had a bouquet of flowers—yellow and white roses—in his hands. He tugged off his top hat and slapped it against his thigh, the gesture an uncommonly nervous one.
“James!” she cried, startled. Then she said in a softer voice, “I was just coming to see you.”
He was evidently discomposed by that admission. “Were you?”
“Yes.”
He lifted an arrogant brow. “Am I to be invited in?”
She stepped closer to the threshold. “I would not recommend it. The atmosphere is poisonous.”
A dark warning flashed in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I am free.” They stared at each other, and something warm and tender shifted in his eyes. He lifted the flowers to her, and she reached over the threshold and took them, dipping her face into their petals and inhaling deeply. “Thank you," she murmured, feeling a bewildering mix of hope and confusion.
“I have some poems too,” he muttered.
It was then she noted a small brown book in his hand. During their lessons, he had sworn nothing could induce him to pen poetry and sonnets to a lady. Warmth burst in her chest like sunshine.
“But I confess they are terrible. I have been working on them since you left last night, without saying goodbye.”
Verity flushed as the butler’s eyes widened. James opened the small book and cleared his throat. "Your eyes are brown and golden, but they remind me of the brightness of a blue summer sky. Your lips are lush and thick, but in a most delightful rosy way and not like a leg of lamb. Your—”
Verity giggled, a horrified sound came from the butler, and at the same time her brother's voice rang out with a "Good God, what is going on? Lord Maschelly?”
Verity looked over her shoulder at him, then stepped forward, grabbed James's arms and with a tinkling laugh ran down the steps, tugging him with her. He followed without question, and her brother bellowed in the distance. James assisted her into his carriage and sat opposite her.
