“Perhaps so,” Henry said.
“I only say, the dim lighting of that lady’s parties is rather conducive to your aim. I’ll leave you with that thought.”
Henry nodded. It certainly was a thought.
*
Lilith had notrealized the thing could be done so quickly and with not too much expense. Clara had finally proved her worth and delivered to her the young man working at a printing press. As it happened, he seemed to admire Clara quite a bit and was eager to impress her. All that Lilith would be charged for was the copper plate for the etching, paper, and ink.
Lilith had described what she wanted, and the young man had quickly sketched some rather glorious interpretations. She’dchosen the one that would irritate Lord Wembly the most, thereby driving him away from any association with Lady Verity.
That had been yesterday. Now, she was in possession of one of the caricatures. The rest were being sent out to likely places to cause talk—gathering places like gentlemen’s clubs, and to the talkers of theton. She had even been so daring as to anonymously send a few to some very high-placed ladies. She did not imagine Lady Pembroke and her ilk would be very amused that Lady Verity had been given a voucher to Almack’s after seeing the caricature.
The sketch was positively inspired. It depicted Lady Verity lecturing at a podium labeled Royal Society in front of a sea of gentlemen. The caption read:After landing several trout on the banks of the River Esk, Lady Fiction concludes that fish cannot see much on land while a certain red-haired gentleman looks on.
By this evening, there were bound to be several people who’d seen the print and who attended Lady Jellerbey’s candlelight picnic. Lilith would be there too. With any luck, Lord Wembly would open his eyes and see that there she was, Lady Lilith Crandall, daughter of the Earl of Berensby, standing there all along. Lady Lilith was not causing embarrassment to him and his family, nor would she ever. By all she knew about him, Lord Wembly was a sensible man. Certainly he would see she was the better choice.
She would wear her best dress to hammer home the idea.
*
Verity could nothelp but to feel the compliment of it, even if Valor did not quite understand it. Lord Wembly had sent over charming compact looking glasses from Rundell & Bridge for Winsome and Valor. The note had said he hoped these smalltokens would ease their disappointment over not coming out victorious at Sir Jonathan’s scavenger hunt.
“I’ll say itdoesease my disappointment,” Winsome said. “Disappointment is gone!”
“I love mine so much,” Valor said. “But, why didn’t he send one for Verity?”
“It wouldn’t be right,” Verity said.
“I see. He doesn’t like you as much as I was worried he did. That’s all right, Verity. Don’t feel bad about it. You can borrow my looking glass sometimes as long as you give it back and don’t break it.”
“That’s not what she means,” Winsome said. “He couldn’t send her one because it’s just not done.”
“Why?” Valor asked.
“Nobody knows why,” Verity said. “Some things are done and some things are not.”
“Who makes up these rules?” Valor said, admiring herself in her glass.
Winsome shrugged. “Felicity asked Papa once and he said they’re made up by unhappy people with too much time on their hands. Like our aunt.”
“Valor,” Verity said, wishing to have a moment alone with Winsome, “I wonder if Sir Galahad has ever seen himself in a glass. After all, he’s too short to see into the one on your dressing table.”
“That’s true,” Valor said, considering the idea. She hopped up. “I’ll go find out and come back and tell you if he looked surprised. I tell him he’s handsome all the time, but he’s not really seen it for himself.”
Valor left and the drawing room door closed.
“I’ve decided what to do,” Verity said. “The very next time Lord Wembly says anything about intentions, even if it is vague like it was yesterday, I’m going to tell him I can’t read.”
“What will you say?” Winsome asked.
“I’m not certain,” Verity said. “How does one announce that one is stupid?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Winsome said. She paused and then said, “Could you say it was something to do with your eyes?”
“Itissomething to do with my eyes, they make the words all jumbly. But not just my eyes, I do not think. It’s my mind too. I just…well, I wonder how an intellectual will view a wife who cannot even read.”
“If he loves you, he will not care,” Winsome said. “After all, Grace almost killed Lord Dashlend and Felicity almost killed Mr. Stratton, and they didn’t care about it. And then Lord Stanford rode through a storm for Patience—he might have been hit by lightning, but he did not care. Also, Lord Thorpe punched his brother in the face to get Nelson back. None of them cared a whit what they had to do for love.”
