After their laughter settled, the queen said, “I believe what Lady Pembroke and I were more interested to hear about was the quip on the print. What does it mean? Fishing for trout on the River Esk and concluding that fish do not see very well out of water? And who is the red-haired gentleman?”
Verity was taken aback. She had really grown very sure that the offense was to do with The Royal Society. What should she say? Whatcouldshe say?
She realized that the only thing to be said was the truth. The very stupid truth.
The queen selected a mille-feuilles from the tray and sat back, waiting.
“I am afraid, Your Majesty, it is all very stupid. I have been very stupid.”
“Excellent, just what I was hoping for,” the queen said. “Amuse me.”
Verity swallowed. “Yes, well, you see, the red-haired gentleman, that would be Baron Wembly. He is a member of The Royal Society and very scientific-minded. So when I met with him at Almack’s, he mentioned looking into the circulatory systems of slow-moving animals and I…well, I said I was too.”
Lady Pembroke snorted. Queen Charlotte said, “Did you, indeed?”
Verity nodded. “It was not true, though.”
“Not true?” the queen said. “I can hardly believe it.”
Verity understood that comment to be the mockery it was meant to be.
“But how did that lead to the print about fish?” Lady Pembroke asked.
“Yes, well, I decided that I ought to find out about these slow-moving animals and their circulatory systems so I could speak on it and then claim I’d lost interest. To never mention it again after that. So I did, when Lord Wembly and Lady Pegatha came to dine. But then somehow it led to claiming I had developed another interest—”
“Another one,” the queen said to Lady Pembroke, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“You see, Lady Pegatha did really press me to know what it was, and just then one of our footmen had come round with broiled cod…”
“No,” the queen said, clearly enjoying the recounting of Verity’s idiocy.
“And that’s when I said I was looking into whether fish could see out of water.”
“A calamitous series of events,” the queen said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “Gracious, why did you begin with it?”
Verity shifted in her seat. “I suppose I wished to seem intelligent to Lord Wembly.”
“You could have just read a book and reported on it,” Lady Pembroke pointed out.
Of course, the lady could not know that was precisely what Verity could not do.
“Might I venture to guess that there was interest between you and Lord Wembly and that caused you to claim these absurdities,” Queen Charlotte said.
“Yes, I believe so, I am afraid I was trying to impress him.”
“I have been most amused,” the queen said. “I suppose Lord Wembly takes the whole palaver in stride?”
Verity looked down at her hands, certain she turned twenty shades of red. “It seems he has taken great offense to it. Which, of course, I understand. He is very dedicated to The Royal Society. He was meant to meet me at Lady Jellerbey’s candlelight picnic, we had made arrangements. But he did not come. Understandably.”
“You understand it?” Lady Pembroke asked.
“I do not understand it,” the queen said. “What lord cannot stand up to a bit of teasing?”
Of course, Verity had no answer to that.
“Quite a few, I believe, Your Majesty,” Lady Pembroke said. “Taking oneself seriously has become a sport for a certain type of gentleman these days.”
“I do not like it,” the queen said. She tapped her chin. “Perhaps Lord Wembly ought to be taught to laugh at himself. Yes, leave it to me.”
