“I have nothing to do with that!”
Dalton examined his glove. “You have everything to do with that, my friend. If you had not spent season after season pursuing one lady after the next and then nothing comes of it, there would not be any bets. There would not be any amusement in it. As it is, you have created this situation. You, and no other. By the by, I have bet against you. I do not believe Miss Dell is so foolish as to fall for your stratagems.”
“I demand you retract it, Dalton! You must tell Miss Dell you did not mean what you said.”
“I did mean it.”
“Say you didn’t.”
“I will not,” Dalton said. “Further, it is for your own good. When I said Miss Dell is not foolish enough to fall for you, I did not sayyouwere not foolish enough to fall forher. We have a deal, Grayson, keep up your end of it.”
With that, Dalton urged his horse and cantered down the road.
*
Sir John pacedhis sitting room, only stopping to occasionally stab at the fire. Such an evening! He had expected it to be rather dull, just one more necessary step in his plan. Instead, it had been one of distinct highs and lows.
He must not spend too much time thinking over the highs. He need not congratulate himself too much over his successful dinner by the side of Miss Dell. He had come prepared to speak of the things that interested her, and so he had.
He was certain she was growing fond of him. Why else would a lady ask so many questions about the head of a platypus? And then, he was certain there had been some sort of falling out between Miss Dell and Grayson. He did not know the cause, but he’d overheard Miss Dell ask Dalton what he had against Grayson. Then, she had been decidedly cool when Grayson had attempted to engage her across the table.
That was all well and good, but he must turn his attention to the lows of the evening. He must consider the lowest point in the night in particular. Grayson claimed he would make inquiries on the continent.Thatwas not at all convenient.
Had he been in earnest, though? Grayson was a flighty and self-indulgent sort—far too interested in the fall of his cloth to have time for such tasks. Grayson had not the means to pay for an investigator at the moment, of that he was sure. Contacting distant relations seemed a flimsy effort. Should he really concern himself with that fop’s pronouncements? Even if the idiot were intent on doing something, how much would he actually get done? Men like that did a lot of fine talking, but very little doing. He knew all about them from the diary—they were idle, pointless, and useless.
Grayson might write all the letters he liked inquiring after John Hill. Were he to receive any replies, they would likely be complimentary. The only real danger was if Grayson somehow mentioned his own name. Especially to a Swede. Perhaps he had been self-indulgent in inventing such a name. It had amused him and that had likely been a misstep. However, what was done could not be undone.
He supposed he should not worry overmuch at having such a one as Grayson making inquiries. Though, it was never a good idea to dismiss a threat entirely.
Perhaps he would see what he could discover about Grayson’s real intentions. It would put his mind at rest if he could confirm that the lord only spouted off for the benefit of Miss Dell.
Miss Katherine Dell, granddaughter of Lord Charles Penderton, would not waste a moment in disabusing Grayson of his alleged charms. For a lady like Miss Dell, the dandy had no charms.
*
It was Tuesday,and that meant a trip to Mrs. Herschel’s salon. Kitty had worked to put aside her own troubled mind and think of the matter at hand. She might hear of some development in the pursuit of Veritas.
When Lord Grayson had laid out his plan to write letters all over Europe to inquire about John Hill, Kitty had almost been tempted to tell him of Mrs. Herschel’s gatherings. She had thought she might even ask Mrs. Herschel to invite the lord so that he might speak of his suspicion that there must be a connection between John Hill and Veritas.
She was glad she had not, considering what had come after.
As they drove through the London streets, Lady Penderton reached across from her seat and grabbed Kitty’s hand. “You are becoming pensive as a habit, my dear. I do wish you would share whatever thoughts you may have. And please do not tell me it is all about the Royal Society! We shall hear enough on that subject very shortly.”
“It is not that,” Kitty said, not certain how to explain herself, “it is only that town is so different than I imagined. In Devon, everyone is as they appear to be. There are no surprises. I cannot say the same for London.”
“Have you been surprised by someone?” her mother asked.
“Yes. No. I do not really know,” Kitty said. “You see, that is what I mean. I am not certain I understand gentlemen at all, outside of Frederick and my father.”
“I see,” Lady Penderton said. “You are afraid you will make a mistake that will follow you all of your life.”
Kitty had not thought of her roiling ideas in that way, but she suspected her mother had gone right to the root of it. If she could not depend upon her own judgment in regard to Lord Grayson, how could she depend upon it to judge anybody? How was she to know that she’d made the right choice? That she’d not been deceived?
Last evening, somebody had lied to her—was it Lord Grayson or Lord Dalton? Had she been a fool?
She really did not know. Further, she had a large dowry and she was not so innocent as to ignore that attraction. There might well be those who feigned interest in her because of it. How would she know?
Her large dowry attracting less than honorable gentlemen had been understood by her well enough before she’d come to town, but it had not discomposed her. She had been so confident in her ability to judge correctly.
