Just now, aging lothario Lord Bradford was listing all of his various accomplishments as if he applied for a position. Kitty was to know that he was a keen birder—watchingbirds, not shooting them. He had already expounded on his theories of cooking meat. Apparently, when the lord’s cook deemed a roast exceedingly done, the lord ordered it roasted an hour more. Meat should be dry, as God intended it. This had been coupled with his ideas of drinking wine—a half-glass on Sunday, in honor of our Lord God.
Kitty stifled her laughter over imagining what the future Lady Bradford would face on a usual day—meat as dry as a desert, accompanied by weak lemonade. That is, if there everwerea future Lady Bradford.
No, Lord Grayson might be foolish and might have sent her a ridiculous book. But he was dashing and amusing. She could not fault him for that.
*
Giles had successfullygained Miss Dell for supper and avoided Miss Blaise for the same. He could not, however, avoid the lady entirely. He’d taken her first, thinking it was well to clear that fence earlier, rather than later.
She did not do too much fan-hitting, as she was less interested in his own very badness and wholly focused on Frederick Dell’s very badness. The lady interrogated him mercilessly about Dell and what he did not know, he invented. According to Giles, Dell was the catch of the century. He thought that would keep Miss Blaise off his trail for many seasons to come.
Giles assumed Dell was furious, but that could not be helped. When it came to the Countess of Thornbridge’s ballroom, it was a battlefield. Everyone must seek to survive any way they could.
Now, finally, he led Miss Dell to the floor.
She’d blushed when he took her hand. Certainly, that was a very good sign.
Giles was also cognizant of the various looks of envy on gentlemen’s faces. Lord Bradford, in particular, seemed put out. The fellow was absurd, always talking about how one ought to cook meat and how he rarely accepted dinner invitations because all too often the meat was not sufficiently dry.
Miss Dell’s brother was not so much looking envious as he was throwing him daggers. Perhaps he should not have foisted Miss Blaise upon him. He did not wish to make an enemy of any of Miss Dell’s relations.
As the dance began, he said, “I am afraid your brother is not pleased with me, Miss Dell.”
The lady smiled and said, “I think he is not, though I believe my mother was amused.”
The baroness was amused? That was good news, indeed. Let Frederick Dell stew in his juices, what matterthatif Miss Dell’s mother was amused by his recent gambit?
“I would also like to mention,” Giles said, “that I hope you do realize that I sent that book as a jest. It occurred to me that perhaps I am too much jesting and forget that others are not in the habit.”
Miss Dell’s brow wrinkled, but then cleared. She said, “Of course, Lord Grayson.”
“Excellent. What I mean is, I own that I do not spend all my time with my nose in a book. But that does not mean I don’t read at all. In fact, I am just now examining a pile of papers that have recently been published by the Royal Society. The past two years, as a matter of fact.”
Miss Dell looked at him, her expression seemed full of wonder. “Do you say, Lord Grayson, that you have joined in the hunt to unmask Veritas? I am also reading the papers for that purpose.”
Giles was entirely nonplussed. He had thought only to read those dull and ridiculous sheets to impress Miss Dell with his knowledge. He had completely dismissed Crackwilder’s mention of the counterfeit, but he got the feeling that the counterfeit and Veritas were one and the same.
“Naturally,” Giles said smoothly, “the situation cannot be allowed to stand.”
“Just as I think!” Miss Dell said with enthusiasm. “Any right-thinking person must wish to defend the society.”
“Consider me engaged,” Giles said solemnly, all the while wondering how he might find out more about what he’d engaged himself in. He supposed Crackwilder would know.
Miss Dell appeared thoughtful. Quietly, she said, “I did you a disservice, Lord Grayson. I would not have thought you would take such an interest in the effort.”
Giles had not had theslightestinterest in it. Until now.
“Regardless of a man’s proclivities,” he said, “that man must always exert every effort in defending what is right no matter where it takes him.”
“That is very well said,” Miss Dell said, smiling. “I am looking for any clue as to who the villain might be. Sir John was kind enough to deliver me copies.”
At the mention of Sir John, Giles stiffened. Was that man to dog him everywhere?
“Perhaps we might speak more about our findings over supper?” Miss Dell asked.
Giles nodded, though he could not help recalling Crackwilder’s comment that he was a man drowning at sea. It would take all his skill to keep his head above water duringthatconversation. He had absolutely no findings to discuss.
But what if hecouldunearth some findings? What if he could unmask the villain, as Miss Dell called him. It would be the most ridiculous effort of his life, but Miss Dell would not think so. It was of vital importance to her adorable scholarly heart.
