Yes, that was what he would do. He would forget he’d ever heard her invent such an absurd notion and it would die a quiet death. Perhaps it was even charming that positing such an absurdity was her bumbling attempt at a flirtation.
In the meantime, he would write Sir Jonathan to be certain that Lady Verity Nicolet had been sent an invitation to his charity scavenger hunt.
*
Verity laid herselfdown on the sofa in the library and dramatically laid a cold compress over her eyes. As anyone who has something terrible to hide would be well aware, her mind had spent hours the night before racing over how to avoid discovery. And finally, a solution had been found. Or at least, a place to start.
First, Winsome had been told of her aim, and then Serenity when she’d walked over from two doors down. Then Patience when she’d arrived. As of now, they all understood that VerityNicolet was making serious inquiry into the circulatory systems of slow-moving animals.
She had, of course, had to explain herself as to why she would wish to make such an inquiry. Fortunately, her sisters seemed very understanding over the idea that she’d just blurted something out and now must cover her tracks. They saw the logic in sharing an interest with Lord Wembly, even if they did not entirely see the logic of it being about circulatory systems and slow-moving animals.
Patience had set off to Lackington & Allen to discover if there were any books on slow-moving animals, circulatory systems, or both.
Winsome located their father’s collection of Royal Society papers to see if there was anything to be had in there. After all, Lord Wembly would read them and possibly contribute to them. It would be well to know what he knew.
Serenity scanned their father’s library shelves for anything that might prove illuminating.
The plan, in its entirety, was that Verity would discover enough to back up her ridiculous claim of the evening before. Then, at some later date, she would pretend to lose interest in the subject and never mention it again.
As for Verity herself, she’d claimed a headache that made her eyes hurt so she could not participate in the investigations into the literature. She’d done so in the past from time to time to encourage Winsome to read to her and it had led her family to presume she was prone to headaches.
In the past, the strategy had never amounted to much, as Winsome usually got bored with whatever subject Verity wished to know about and picked up a gothic novel instead. If it would be considered educated to know how many ways an innocent young lady could be in mortal danger in a damp castle, she would be a lauded intellectual by now!
This time, though, Winsome was wholly focused on the task at hand. Valor was a bit of another story. One could not very well tell her of a ruse and expect her to keep it a secret. She would try, usually, but she had far too many slip-ups. On top of that, Valor would hardly be approving of a scheme to impress a gentleman. She could barely contain her pique when their father had mentioned over breakfast that Lord Wembly was coming to dine on Friday.
For all Valor knew about it, Verity had all along been examining the question of circulatory systems in slow-moving animals and had simply decided to devote much more time to it.
The youngest Nicolet had speedily become bored with the subject and took Sir Galahad into the drawing room. She was teaching the little dog to play Vingt-et-un by laying the cards on the carpet and giving him the signal to tap his paw on the deck when he wanted another card. He was getting very good at it, since he got a little piece of biscuit every time he tapped. His biggest challenge these days was enthusiastically tapping too much and going over twenty-one.
“Oh, wait a minute,” Winsome said, “here’s a paper that mentions slow-moving animals.”
Verity sat up, the cold compress sliding off her face. She quickly put it back on. “What does it say? What is it about?”
“Gracious, what a palaver. The title of it, if you can believe it, is an “Account of a Peculiarity in the Distribution of the Arteries sent to the Limbs of slow-moving Animals together with some other Facts.” It is a letter written six years ago from a surgeon named Mr. Anthony Carlisle to an esquire named Mr. John Symmons.”
“That is precisely the sort of thing I must find out about,” Verity said. “What does it say about slow-moving animals?” She was not entirely certain if information on arteries was preciselywhat they looked for, but it was the closest thing they’d come upon so far.
There was a moment’s silence and Verity peeked out from her cold compress. Winsome was reading and looking horrified while she was doing it. She laid the paper down and said, “I cannot even read it. It is too horrible. Especially not with Serenity in the room.”
