“Somebody’s got it out for you, eh?”
What was going on? Was he talking about this pants on fire idea too?
Just then, Lady Caroline tapped his shoulder with her fan. “Gracious, Wembly,” she said. “Whatever it is you’ve done, do fix it. I do not care for a gentleman of my acquaintance to be named spineless. You have not refused a duel, I hope?”
Spineless? “Lady Caroline, I have not the first idea of what you are referring to. For that matter,” Henry said, turning to Sir Reginald and Lord Fredrickson, “I do not know what either of you are referring to either.”
Those three people looked at one another. Lord Frederickson said, “I was talking about that print going round where you are lying on a fainting couch, waving a vinaigrette under your nose. I mean, I assumed it was you, what with the red hair.”
“His hair is an auburn shade, really. However, a print of a fainting couch is not at all whatIreferred to,” Lady Caroline said. “I spoke of the print where Lord Wembly is slumped in a chair as if he cannot sit up straight and it simply says: Spineless.”
Sir Reginald laughed heartily. “Now this is amusing!Iwas talking of neither of those. I meant the print where Wembly is running out of The Royal Society with his posterior in flames. It says: Not very Stoic.”
“Good God, Wembly,” Lord Frederickson said. “How many prints are going round about you?”
“I’ve no idea,” Henry said softly. “Gentlemen, Lady Caroline,” he said hurriedly. He excused himself and made hisway out of the house, lest somebody mention another print meant to mock him. How many were there?
Why was he being mocked in the first place? He hadn’t done anything.
Perhaps it was because he’d caused Lady Verity so much trouble by mentioning her research into fish? But he was not running away with his backside on fire and he was not spineless and he certainly had not fainted over it.
Had he failed to do something he ought to have done? Was that the problem? Was he being mocked because he’d not yet done anything? He’d tried to apologize but had not been let through the door.
He’d better find a way to get hold of these prints and see exactly what he was up against. With any luck, Lady Verity would attend Lady Darlington’s masque, and he could apologize there. He would also make a show of seeking out Lady Verity to prove he was not running away or slumping in a chair or fainting on a couch.
Really, when his thoughts had turned to finding a wife, he’d thought it would be a deal more straightforward!
*
Nobody belonging tothe Nicolet household had ever been called to Buckingham House to answer to the queen. Of all of them, only the duke was really acquainted with her. Some of her sisters had met her at various events, but she was not nearly as out and about as she had once been, due to the king’s illness, which seemed to come and go. Though it seemed these days it mostly came and rarely went.
The duke had been in the habit of writing a letter to the palace, excusing his girls from arriving for the formal curtsy. Because of the king’s illness, some years it was held and othersit was not, and it was the duke’s opinion that Queen Charlotte did not give a toss about it anyway. Verity’s father thought there could be nothing sillier than to have a monstrosity of a gown built and secure wildly large ostrich feathers for a lady’s hair, all to go and curtsy to a lady who would rather be elsewhere with a tea tray.
As the queen had not brought up the Nicolets’ absence over the years, Verity presumed he’d been right in his judgments. Or at least not condemned for them.
All that did not wash away the idea that Verity Nicolet, of all of them, had been called on the carpet to answer for herself. It prompted an immediate family dinner so they might discuss what had happened, what might happen, and how to go forward.
Just now, they were seated round the duke’s dining table, with Thomas and Charlie expertly managing the sideboard.
As the two footmen brought round the wine, Lord Thorpe said, “The American butler is gone, is he?”
This caused snorts from Thomas and Charlie. The duke said, “Gone back to America where he belongs. I’ll tell you the story one of these days, but suffice to say that Mr. Klonsume left here in high style and Lady Misery was off her head over it. Very amusing.”
“Sir Morus,” Thomas whispered, his shoulders shaking.
“Now, why do not we start off with Verity relating what occurred,” the duke said. “That will give us a direction, I think.”
All eyes turned to her. Verity took a sip of wine to fortify herself. “Well, it seems there is a print going round. Lord Stanford’s seen it.”
Lord Stanford nodded. “It names Lady Verity as ‘Lady Fiction.’”
“Because of when she accidentally said she was studying whether or not fish could see out of water,” Winsome explained.
As most of her sisters and their husbands, but for Grace and Lord Dashlend, had been on the scene when she’d blurted out that ridiculous idea, they all nodded sadly.
“It’s our understanding,” Valor said, “that Lord Wembly got mad about it. But I really think, Verity, that if he wants to be mad and go away, you should let him.”
Verity ignored that bit of sage advice. Of course Valor would wish him away.
