Miss Dell, on the other hand, said nothing at all and only nodded to acknowledge the acquaintance.
“And Sir John, I believe?” Mrs. Herschel said, looking round the room.
Sir John stepped forward reluctantly. “We have met,” he said dully.
Following that less than gracious greeting, Mrs. Herschel took Giles round to meet her other guests. Most were fellows he would not have been likely to meet anywhere. They were gentlemen, but not the sort who hung around a club gambling and socializing. He had of course heard of Lady Stanhope and her remarkable travels. The lady was as sunburnt as one would imagine she would be, but just as lively too. Mr. Lackington was introduced to him, and Giles made sure to mention that he had recently bought a book in the fellow’s shop. He would have expected Lackington to seem more grateful over the purchase, but it seemed that shopkeepers of books viewed themselves in a higher realm from shopkeepers of everything else.
The niceties having been accomplished, Mrs. Herschel gained everyone’s attention.
“I will leap straight to the heart of it, ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs. Herschel said, her small person taking control of the party. “We are gathered here to share any discoveries anybody has made regarding the identity of Veritas. I am hoping there is some small string or breadcrumb mentioned today that we might follow, as I am at my wit’s end. We do not understand what this villain’s next move might be and I am very afraid we are running out of time. I do not think he will stay silent forevermore, some plan is likely in the works. Now, has anybody found out anything?”
The drawing room had fallen so silent that one might have heard the sound of a needle pulling thread through fabric.
While Giles noted Miss Dell staring at him out of the corner of his eye, he kept his focus intently on Sir John. The man’s face remained neutral and he could not divine what the fellow was thinking. What he wasnotdoing, though, was talking about a diary that had been recently stolen from his house.
Quite suddenly, Sir John stepped forward. Giles held his breath. Would he say it? Would he claim he’d had the diary?
If he did, Giles felt all of his ideas might go up in smoke. It was only by his silence that Giles could assure himself of Sir John’s guilt. Saying nothing about it confirmed he was in some way connected to Veritas and did not want it discovered. That he most likelywasVeritas. If he were to tell of it, that would portend an openness that would muddy the waters quite a bit.
“Sir John?” Mrs. Herschel asked.
“I do not claim to have come to a verified conclusion, Mrs. Herschel,” Sir John intoned. “But as we are intending to share any bits of information or clues we may have stumbled across, I will note that it has been mentioned in my vicinity that Lord Grayson attended Lady Blakeley’s ball wearing a large letter V on his forehead.”
Giles took in a breath. What was the man saying? Where was he going with this?
“I only mention it as nobody seemed to know what it meant,” Sir John went on. “There was much speculation about it among a group of gentlemen in Hyde Park. As they mentioned the composition of the mask within my hearing, I did not move off, but rather listened to their chattering. None of it was particularly noteworthy, other than the very large V on the lord’s mask and one fellow claiming there was some secret attached to it. And now, here he is, most unexpectedly among us.”
The party turned and looked warily at Giles. “That is ridiculous!” he cried. “What do you even hint at?”
Sir John clasped his hands behind his back. “I hint that the V stood for Veritas. I hint that Lady Blakeley is in on your secret. I suspect it is some elaborate joke played upon a society that would never have you. I understand men of your ilk are fond of such things.”
“My ilk? This is sheer nonsense,” Giles said. He would very much like to say all he knew. That it was Sir John who was in receipt of a diary about John Hill. That it was Sir John who failed to mention that fact.
He could not, though. If he did, he’d be admitting he stole it from the house.
He glanced at Miss Dell, and she looked away from him. Surely, she would not believe Sir John’s scurrilous claim.
“Lord Grayson,” Lady Penderton said, “perhaps you might clear up the mystery and put Sir John’s mind at rest. Whatdidthe V actually stand for?”
“Vanity,” Giles said. “It was Lady Blakeley’s joke on how much care I take with my clothes.” He glanced derisively at Sir John. “More care than some others.”
Sir John smoothed his coat reflexively and said, “Lord Grayson told all and sundry that story, at least that was part of it. The mask was also comprised of hair styled in white curls. I believe we have all seen the copies made of the portrait of John Hill and note he was styled just the same. Lord Grayson was heard to claim that he was painted as Louis XIV as some explanation of the hairpiece, though with only a V noted. It was a thin story, not believed by anybody.”
“Sir John,” Mrs. Herschel said, “you make a terrible accusation. Lord Grayson, how do you answer it?”
Giles knew not what to say. Of course, he’d known the story he’d told about his mask had been a flimsy one. But how was he to know the V would be taken as Veritas? It was absurd.
“Sir John hints that I must be Veritas. It is irrational. Veritas is not likely to wear a confession on his forehead.” Giles stared at Sir John and said, “No, that villain will blend in and attempt not to be noticed. He will move in your circles and you will take him as one of your own.”
Giles could see Miss Dell looking back and forth between himself and Sir John. She could not be in any doubt. How could she be? Surely, she esteemed him more than that? She might think him an unreliable fellow, but certainly not a villain.
“I can confirm your notion is ridiculous, Sir John,” Crackwilder said. “Grayson is not Veritas.”
“Then what was the V really for?” Sir John asked. “Why would its meaning be such a secret?”
Giles could see his story about the V was not going to hold up. However, he certainly could not reveal the truth, that the V was for Vicomte de Valmont. Not in Miss Dell’s presence. He must only attempt to turn the tide in another direction.
“Perhaps,” he said, “the gentleman doth protest too much. Perhaps one who really has something to hide attempts to throw suspicion elsewhere.”
