Another innkeeper took things a step further. That fellow joyously replied that theydidhave brocabbage pie. The family was then faced with a pie filled with dripping, boiled cabbage covered in black pepper that was just as terrible as anybody would imagine. The duke, not being at all offended to be the butt of a joke, laughed uproariously, and congratulated them all on the idea.
Verity got the feeling that they were a little let down over the duke’s approval and had much rather he’d gone mad over it and never returned again. Of course, they did not know the duke as well as she did—there was nothing he liked more than a battle of wits, a cat and mouse game, and Verity was certain he’d come up with some new gambit to launch at them next year.
The duke’s footmen had been foiled as well. They’d always been in the habit of drinking like young lords on a grand tour, singing into the early morning in the innyard, and then invariably depositing what they’d drank in that same yard. At one inn, they’d been relegated to wine that had been so heavily watered that they could not drink it fast enough to get drunk. At another, they were only given tea, that innkeeper explaining a local shortage of…everything else to drink.
Of the entire party, Sir Galahad seemed to enjoy the trip the most. He pushed his smushed pug nose out the window and took in the smells from the Dales to London. Verity did not know what was so interesting about cow manure or grass or goats or chickens, but Sir Galahad found the English countryside an olfactory feast and spent most of his time drooling.
Verity had been happy for the distractions, and she hoped the new butler would distract as well. Anything at all to keep people from examining her too closely. At least, examining what she said too closely. She worked with very little real information and anybody paying too close attention might notice it. She did not exactly know what sort or how much information a gentlemanwould expect her to have, but it certainly must be more than she’d acquired. All she could do about it was pretend to know things, else she looked a complete idiot.
As for the new butler, they were on the verge of discovering more about this man that Lady Marchfield had not revealed anything about. Other than he was meant to send a chill down their spines. The carriages had entered Grosvenor Square and slowed in front of the duke’s house.
Much to Verity’s surprise, Lady Marchfield stood at the doors with her arms crossed.
“Gracious,” Verity said, “what does our aunt do here?”
Winsome peered out the window. “Nothing good, I am sure.”
Valor did not look at all, but hugged Sir Galahad close. Verity wondered if they’d even be able to convince Valor to get out of the carriage.
Thomas opened the door, a look of trepidation on his features. “Chin up, Thomas,” Winsome said. “Whatever awaits us, Mrs. Right will see that it’s all to come right.”
“Indeed I will,” Mrs. Right said, patting Valor’s hand.
“A very usual case,” Verity muttered out of habit, climbing down to the pavement.
Their father had not been at all reluctant to get out of his own carriage. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear, he said, “What now, Lady Misery? What ill wind has blown you in to darken my door?”
“Dear Roland, you do jest,” Lady Marchfield said with a smile. “Of course I would be here to greet my dearest brother. Serenity alerted me that you would arrive today and I would not miss it for the world.”
Verity and her sisters stared at their aunt wide-eyed. Verity did not have the first idea of what her aunt was saying. Dear Roland? Her dearest brother? What was happening?
“What’s the game, Misery?” the duke asked.
“Game? No game. Look, there are my darling nieces. Come, my loves, let us get you out of the chill air. Do come away from that… servant.”
By servant, Verity supposed she meant Mrs. Right. But they did not look upon her as a servant. She was Mrs. Right! She was their stand-in mother, keeper of secrets, consoler of broken hearts, and the general of the duke’s household. She cared for them when they were sick and brushed their hair at night and tucked them under their blankets. She soothed Valor when she’d had a nightmare. She kept the duke company with a brandy at night before retiring. She was not a servant. She was something else altogether.
“Come, girls,andMrs. Right,” the duke said. “Let us proceed in and leave the lunacy of Lady Misery on the pavement. Charlie? You and Thomas see the trunks and cases indoors and make sure that diabolical woman does not try to hide herself in one of them to get into my house! Stand aside, you deranged woman.”
Lady Marchfield did step aside, though she looked suspiciously happy to do so.
As they stepped into the great hall, entirely distracted by Lady Marchfield’s outlandish behavior, they were all but accosted by a man rushing at them.
He was a lumbering individual with facial features that reminded Verity very much of a trout. His lips, rather than turn up, took a decided downturn and his eyes bulged as if he were a fish caught on a hook. His clothes were no less alarming—his coat was ill-fitting and underneath that coat was a simply bizarre waistcoat embroidered with little red, white, and blue flags. Flags with stars—not the Union Jack, which would have been odd enough.
He grasped the duke’s hand and shook it heartily. Her father yanked his hand from the man.
“Duke!” the man said, “Mr. Morus Klonsume, Morry, to my friends. Pleased as Punch to make your acquaintance, been here for hours, had a look around. Took stock, as it were.”
Lady Marchfield leaned through the front doors and said, “That’s right, Roland. He’s an American with exceedingly original ideas. Good luck!” With that, she set off and Verity could hear her laughing all the way to her carriage.
Verity looked to her father. What on earth were they to do with an American? Especially an American such as this?
“Whateveryourname is,” the duke said, “myname is Your Grace. Do not ever touch me again. This lady’s name is Mrs. Right. She runs the place. Try not to get in her way.”
“Hah!” Mr. Morus Klonsume said, seeming overjoyed with the information. “The English! Just as stiff as was said. Never fear,Your Grace, American ingenuity to the rescue. You’ve never seen the like and, if I may say so, I am quite the expert. Born and bred in the new world and took to it like a duck to water, you understand. The mind of Pliny the Elder and determination of General Washington! The Delaware? I can cross it! Prepare to have this house turned upside down, shaken around, and settled into a brave new modern world!”
“Mrs. Right,” the duke said, ignoring the man, “for the love of all that’s holy, send this individual below stairs,” the duke said.
“Below stairs,” Mr. Klonsume cried. “Know my way, been there already. Threw the cook for a loop, funny fellow. He says, do I want tea? I say, my good fellow, don’t you know we threw it all into Boston Harbor? It was a good joke but I don’t reckon the man knows his history very well—blank stare.”
“I’ll bet it was a blank stare,” Mrs. Right said, grasping the fellow by his ill-fitting coat sleeve and pulling him away.
Verity took that moment to shoot up the stairs ahead of her sisters. Whatever was to happen this season, she was determined to secure the best room. Gracious, she had hopedthe game of Mrs. Right driving the latest butler from the house would prove a distraction but Mr. Klonsume was…well, she did not really know what he was.
All she could guess was that Mrs. Right and the footmen would have their hands full.
