Chapter Seven
Henry hardly knewwhat to do with Lady Winsome’s statement. Lady Marchfield was lending the duke a butler, but he was to be got rid of? Where did Lady Marchfield even find an American butler? And again, another mention of this mysterious Mrs. Right. Could it be possible that the duke kept a mistress? Was she above stairs somewhere, considered inappropriate company for Lady Pegatha?
It sounded deranged, but considering all he’d experienced so far, he could not rule anything out of bounds.
But no, surely not. Whatever the duke was, he did seem to have a care for his daughters. He would hardly have a mistress living in the house. Who was she, though?
Lady Winsome and Lady Valor had pulled all the chairs round in a circle and laid piles of blue and yellow tickets on an ottoman.
The footman came round with the bottles of port and brandy. Apparently, they had left the butler behind to take down the wallcovering and think of Mr. Benjamin Franklin.
One of the footmen poured Henry a glass of port. Lord Stanford said, “Better give him more, Charlie, first time at Fact or Fib, you know.”
The footman nodded knowingly and filled his glass nearly to the top. Henry was becoming very wary of what would comenext. His aunt looked a little wary herself, as Lady Valor had just thrown her pug into the lady’s lap.
“Now, the game is simple,” Lady Valor said. “We’ll ask you a question and then if you tell the truth, you get a yellow ticket, and if you fib, you get a blue ticket. Two yellows wins, but a blue cancels a yellow. I always go first.”
Henry was seated next to Lady Verity. He leaned over and said quietly, “How do they know whether anyone has told the truth?”
“They just decide,” Lady Verity whispered.
Henry took a long draught of port. They just decide.
“Lady Pegatha,” Lady Valor said, “Do you think there could be any other dog in the whole world who is as tremendous as Sir Galahad?”
As a further prompting, Lady Valor held up the dog to Lady Pegatha’s face.
“Gracious, well, if there is, I don’t know about it,” Lady Pegatha said.
“Fact!” Lady Valor said. “I know it’s a fact because Lady Margaret thinks the very same thing.” She hopped up, threw a yellow ticket in Lady Pegatha’s direction and took her dog back. “I’m going to bed now. I’ve matured and don’t always wait to have an overtired outburst. I feel it creeping up on me, is what I say.” She turned to Lady Verity and said, “Try not to get married while I’m gone.”
With that, Lady Valor made a little curtsy and left with her dog hanging in her arms.
That was an odd display, but the game did not seem insurmountable. Henry did not quite know what he’d expected, but it appeared as if it would not be as bad as he imagined. He was happy enough to give his opinion on the household dog, or whatever other subject came up.
“Lord Wembly,” Lady Winsome said, “what was the first thing you noticed about our Verity?”
Henry felt rather frozen. What a question. It did not help that his aunt had outright snorted. “Oh, as to that, well, I would say, if pressed, I suppose it must be her mind.” He’d imagined that would be a safe answer, but began to doubt himself, considering the dark looks coming from the duke’s daughters. Stanford sighed next to him.
“Fib!” Lady Winsome cried. “It is her eyes, everybody knows it. Papa says they are like our mother’s.”
“That’s true,” the duke said.
Henry had a blue ticket thrown in his lap. What he was supposed to do with it, he did not know. Of course, the correct answer probably would have been her eyes, if not her complexion or hair or lips or charming little nose. But he could hardly be expected to say so!
“I’ll go,” Patience said. “Verity, what didyoufirst notice about Lord Wembly?”
Henry dared not look at her, though she was just to his left.
“His hair,” Lady Verity said. “It is a particular shade of auburn.”
His hair? It was his worst feature! But then, what one first notices about a person is not always what they find most genial. It could be she was very against the color and struck by it in that way.
The sisters looked at one another, as if they could not decide. Then Lady Felicity subtly nodded, and they all cried, “Fact!”
Lady Verity was handed a yellow ticket.
As Lady Winsome turned her sights on Lady Pegatha, Henry leaned to the left and whispered, “My hair. Is it bad?”
