“I am afraid,” Kitty said, “that Sir John has heard Lord Grayson speak and did not find it a very compelling notion.”
Of course, it was entirely too late for the claim to do any good, as Sir John had already made his way over.
Chapter Eleven
“Miss Dell hastold me of this idea that the man we seek might have a connection to John Hill,” Mrs. Herschel said. “As I have not heard any other promising ideas, perhaps we ought to look into it.”
Sir John nodded, and Kitty thought he hid his disdain for the theory better than she’d have thought he would.
“Perhaps Miss Dell would consent to walk with me and expound on the suggestion, so I may better understand where to begin,” Sir John said gravely.
A demur was on Kitty’s lips, but it was too late. Sir John held out his arm. She looked to her mother, who nodded though she did not appear overly enthused by the idea. Kitty had no choice, she rose and took Sir John’s arm.
He led her round the various groups huddled together and talking of what ought to be done, to a bow window at the far end of the room.
“I did not realize, Miss Dell,” Sir John said, “that you were intent on pursuing Lord Grayson’s rather wild and unlikely ideas.”
“I am not pursuing anything, Sir John,” Kitty said hurriedly. His tone sounded rather scolding and she felt herself stiffen. “It was all well and good to read the papers from the Royal Society, but I can go no further than that.”
“No further but to suggest Grayson’s idea to Mrs. Herschel?” Sir John asked.
Why was he speaking to her as if she were a naughty child? Kitty said, “I do suppose, Sir John, that I am free to suggest anything I like to anybody I like.”
Sir John seemed taken aback by her challenging tone, but he speedily recovered. “Of course, naturally,” he said. “I did not mean to imply you should not.”
Kitty nodded, as if she understood that he had not meant to imply such a thing, though she was not certain she really did understand it.
“It is only,” Sir John said in a contrite tone, “that I do take a particular interest in your welfare, Miss Dell. Surely, you do not remain unaware of it.”
Kitty had not the first idea of how to respond to such a statement. She occupied herself with looking out the window instead.
“You are right not to answer,” Sir John said. “I have been too rash. It is better that I speak to your father first.”
Kitty felt her heart drop to her knees. Speak to her father? Surely he could not mean…she must put a stop to that idea immediately. She did not know him well enough, she had not even decided what her view of him was.
“There is no reason anybody should speak to my father at this moment,” Kitty blurted out.
“The lady demurs,” Sir John said. “Very prettily done.”
Demurs? Kitty was certain she had not claimed some false reluctance. She had said what she meant to say. Therewasno cause for anybody to speak to Lord Penderton just now.
“Sir John, I must insist—”
Kitty was tapped on the shoulder. She spun around to find her mother standing behind her. “It is time we take our leave, Kitty.”
Kitty curtsied to Sir John, never happier over her mother’s strict ideas about a call.
*
Giles had wrangledSir John’s address from Lady Milton, under the ruse that he had some old books he wished to dispose of that Sir John might take an interest in. Lady Milton had joked that he was down to selling off his books on account of the dukes’ pact. It had been an irritating exchange—it seemed that nobody was beyond joking over his father’s ridiculous pact with the other dukes.
Nevertheless, he’d got the address and made his way over. He and LaRue dismounted their horses a full block from the house and his valet paid a boy to hold the reins.
The house itself was not too far from St. George’s church and Giles thought if anybody were to spot him, he might claim he was on his way there for a wedding or a christening. Not the most likely story, as those things were always in the newspapers, but it was all he could think of.
He must find some clue or evidence that Sir John was at the bottom of the Royal Society’s mystery. The more he pondered it, the more it seemed likely that Sir John was Veritas, or was working with Veritas, or knew the identity of Veritas. The man came from nowhere, he claimed to have received the note from Veritas, and furthermore, he was an irritating person. Unraveling the mystery was the only way he could see that he’d be able to convince Miss Dell that he was in earnest, and therefore, Dalton had made up the story about bets in clubs. And therefore, everything was Sir John’s fault.
Giles knew very well that Dalton had likely only inventedpartof the story he’d told Miss Dell. While it was true that he’d had nothing to do with any bets taking place regarding his interests, it was also true that there were probably bets being made. He did not know why gentlemen could not mind their own business! The ladies were always blamed as terrible gossipers, but at least they only whispered—they did not lay money and they did not write anything down to live forevermore in the club’s book.
