“That is mysterious,” Kitty said. In truth, it was more than mysterious. What on earth must be hidden from view?
“Mayhap Sir John will look into the mystery of my mask, he seems to like that sort of thing,” Lord Grayson said in a derisive tone.
Kitty was entirely flummoxed. Why were they now talking of Sir John?
“I will just say, Miss Dell,” Lord Grayson said, “that some fellows are not what they seem. The clues may be in front of one and easily divined if one would only look at them.”
Kitty did not answer. How could she when he spoke in such riddles? And so seriously, too. He wished to point out that some men are not what they seem and clues are there if one would only look.
She glanced up at Lord Grayson and saw him staring down at her, his curls moving with the dance and that large V on his forehead.
Like a puzzle where all the pieces seemed not to go together until they suddenly snapped in place, Kitty saw a picture emerge. The V on his forehead, the mystery, the clue one was looking at.
The V was for Veritas.
No, it could not be. Could it? Could Lord Grayson have been Veritas all along?
Why? Why would he do it?
Kitty began to get a sinking feeling. It might be a joke, some prank he and his friends had invented. She knew very well he thought the Royal Society’s pursuits silly. Perhaps he and his friends laughed over sending the intellectuals running in all directions over a letter.
If hewasVeritas, then he had certainly not written to relations on the continent to discover if there were a connection between Veritas and John Hill. How easy to say so and yet do no such thing.
Though where would he even have heard of John Hill to even inspire the jest? It was an old history,shehad certainly never heard of it. Her father had known the story and never bothered to mention it before the letter arrived. It could not be a thing often spoken of.
Perhaps it need only be spoken of once. Perhaps Lord Grayson had overheard the story at his club? He and his friends would have laughed heartily over the botanist’s revenge—the paperLucina sine concubitu. That a lady might discover she was with child from the air would be just the type of low subject that would entertain.
But for all that, was Lord Grayson really so cruel? He had seen how engaged she was in solving the mystery and unmasking Veritas. Would he really have played her for such a fool?
She did not know what to think. Was he Veritas, or was he not? She might as well ask him. Regardless of whatever answer he gave, she might divine the truth from his demeanor.
“Do you say then,” Kitty said, “that you are Veritas?”
“I say no such thing,” Lord Grayson said, almost stuttering, “I point out that Sir John is Veritas.”
“Sir John?” Kitty asked. “The notion is absurd.”
“Is it?” Lord Grayson asked.
Kitty’s head spun. First, the lord wears a mask with a V on it and hints that clues are right in front of her eyes. Then he says it is Sir John who is Veritas?
None of it made sense.
The dance ended, and very unsatisfactorily she thought. She must discover the truth. If Lord Grayson was Veritas, she must alert Mrs. Herschel that they had all been sent on a merry chase by a couple of scoundrels who amused themselves.
She must be certain, though.
*
Giles spent theevening going through the motions. He worked to make conversation, though he was not in the slightest interested in the replies. He felt he must make the effort—were he to appear sullen it would be attributed to the mask he’d been assigned by Lady Blakeley. For all that, he found himself grateful to be wearing a mask, as he did not wish to be really seen.
Burke was right in his estimations. He had been a scoundrel and he must change his ways. He would never encounter another Miss Dell, of that he was certain, but hewouldmarry someday. He would marry a pleasant lady and do his best to be pleasant in return. Until that day, he must conduct himself more circumspect.
He suspected it would be all too easy. He had not the appetite for flirtations that he’d once had. Now that his heart had been exposed, hisrealheart, anything less than true was unacceptably false.
Miss Dell may have broken him, but she had also done him the favor of curing him of his worst habits. He supposed he must always be grateful for that.
As Miss Belrayton chattered on at supper, he could not help but ruminate on the nature of things. He’d always wondered why the old fellows at White’s were so serious-minded. It seemed to him that they’d always been so. He now suspected that was not the case. They had just grown into men.
