This seemed to strike Lady Lilith rather hard. “I see,” she said with aspersion. “Goodness, another Nicolet.”
“Yes, there are seven, you know,” Lady Pegatha said with a snort.
Henry put himself down for the second set, ignoring that the first dance was open. If there was one thing a gentlemancoulddo to express interest or lack of it, it was to choose a dance that did not say anything of a particular regard. He did not want to open the ball with Lady Lilith.
Lady Lilith noted it and sniffed.
He did not suppose he cared very much about her sniffing. The sooner the lady turned her sights elsewhere, the better. She wished to make herself into the first lady of London, but hehad no wish to be the first gentleman. She’d be much better off setting her sights on another gentleman with a heavy purse whodidhave social aspirations.
Though he’d firmly decided to wed, and Lady Lilith was nothing if not willing, it could not be right. He could not envision her at home, in his house, on a usual day where nothing particular would happen.
No matter, he had decided what he would do, and he would seek out a lady he could imagine in his house, on a usual day.
*
Verity felt ratherbuoyed over her family coming out in force to surround her and support her at Almack’s. They’d all gone out of their way to be encouraging. She was deemed pretty as a picture and assured her card would be filled to overflowing. Mr. Stratton, who she knew best of all her sisters’ husbands, had counseled, “Remember, it is only a ball.”
She would remember that. Mr. Stratton was always full of genial good sense. She might be encouraged by it too. She might not be in possession of a brilliant mind but thereweresome things she was good at, and dancing was one of them. As she’d gazed round the ballroom full of wonderful-looking people dressed impeccably, her eyes were arrested by one particular gentleman.
He was positively sublime. Tall, broad-shouldered, with very dark auburn hair and strong features. She did have a weakness for that shade of auburn, a brownish-red like the leaves of trees after they’d fully turned in autumn. She supposed his eyes might be a shade of green, though she could not tell it from this distance. He was a brick of a man. A man she might imagine dressed in the accoutrements of a warrior of old, daring anyone to challenge him. Really, his looks made her a bit swoony.
Felicity followed her gaze. “I see you examine Lord Wembly.”
“Lord Wembly?” she asked. It could not be. Why was the most glorious man in the room to be the one who was consumed with intellectual pursuits? He did not even look as if that was how he spent his time. He looked as if he were forever on his horse or boxing or fencing.
“He is a baron and very rich, I am told,” Felicity said. “I do not know him well, as he seems not to be out and about much. I understand he is very intellectual and involved with The Royal Society.”
“I see,” Verity said quietly.
“Goodness, perhaps he would be just the thing, Verity. You do so like to know lots of facts, and I imagine he must know piles of things.”
Verity imagined hedidknow piles of things. Which was the problem.
Lady Westmoreland interrupted them. “All filled in, Lady Verity. I hope you come to approve of my selections,” she said, handing over Verity’s card.
“I am sure I will, Lady Westmoreland,” Verity said. “I thank you for the courtesy.”
“Charming girl,” the countess said, drifting away. Verity glanced down at her card. Then she felt as if her heart had positively given up the ghost and ceased beating.
Lord Wembly. The handsome intellectual. For the dance before supper.
“Look at that,” Felicity said, “the fates must be on your side. You can have extended conversation with Lord Wembly.”
“Yes, look at that,” Verity said wanly.
“There you are, Serenity,” Lady Marchfield said, seeming to come out of nowhere. “You look lovely, my dear, just like your mother.” She turned to the duke. “Roland? Might I be congratulated on your new butler? Mr. Klonsume is everythingI would wish for you. Ah, those jests about Boston Harbor—one cannot hear them too many times.”
The rest of his family turned toward the duke. None of them but for Serenity had set eyes on Mr. Klonsume, though they all were well-used to the butler game between the duke and his sister.
As he did not say anything at all to her teasing, she went on. “Yes,” she said to the rest of the party, “Mr. Klonsume is an American and arrives with all the confident barbarism that land has to offer. What does he say? He has the wisdom of Pliny the Elder and determination of General Washington? Oh, and a soupçon of American bluster and imagined ingenuity ladled on top. Positively enchanting. Now come, Verity, I will introduce you to Lady Pembroke before the ball starts. She is the queen’s Lady of the Wardrobe and an important person for you to know.”
Before Verity could invent a way to avoid it, she was whisked away and introduced to the imposing Lady Pembroke. The lady had some very nice things to say about Serenity and her opinions about bees and the new idea of slatted skeps.
“Do you have an interest in bees yourself, Lady Verity?”
Verity searched her mind for anything Serenity might have said about bees. She could not recall much. “Oh, not as much as Serenity does, I’m afraid. They seem to prefer to die in the garden, I’ve heard say.”
“Do they?” Lady Pembroke asked. “Well, I suppose the garden is as good a place as any. Lady Marchfield, good to see you again.”
