Chapter Sixteen
“Well,” Lady Pegathasaid, “this is a fine mess.”
Henry and his aunt were poring over the three prints that had gone round about him. It was a fine mess indeed. It seemed wherever he went, somebody had seen at least one of them. Had he not sported red hair, there might have been some confusion as to who the gentleman in the prints were, or even if they were the same gentleman.
That was not the case, and everybody had speedily leapt to the conclusion that it was him, in all three prints. But who was behind them? And why?
“I would not put it past the duke to have been the author of one of them,” Lady Pegatha said. “Or perhaps all three of them.”
“Why, though?” Henry asked. “I have not actually done anything. Why am I accused of…I am not even certain what I am accused of.”
Lady Pegatha shrugged. “The duke is a funny creature. Perhaps he thinks you have paid Lady Verity certain attentions and yet nothing firm has come of it.”
“How could anything firm come of it when I am barred from his house?”
“I did not say he was asensibleman,” Lady Pegatha said. “In any case, you are not barred from Lady Darlington’s masque. I am certain Lady Verity will attend—a lady does not compose a costume well in advance and then fail to wear it.”
“I see. Is that what you have done? Composed an elaborate costume?”
“I have not, I’ve grown too old for such things. I will wear one of my old standbys. I will go in a simple tunic in the Grecian style. You will wear a domino, I presume?”
Henry nodded. “Yes, of course I will. I do not understand these gentlemen getting themselves up as jesters and sultans and who knows what else. It is all well and good for the ladies, it is their opportunity to create something of beauty—”
“Not always,” Lady Pegatha said, with a snort. “Last year, one of Lady Verity’s sisters came as a bee. It was exceedingly odd and not at all attractive.”
Henry had heard of that, of course. Lady Serenity apparently had an overfondness for bees. It was even said that Lord Thorpe had built a crypt to house any dead bees that the lady came across.
Perhaps that was a clue to the Nicolets, and to Lady Verity herself. It was not just the duke who was eccentric. It was all of them. Perhaps it had been simply eccentricity that had caused Lady Verity to claim she was making scientific inquiries. For all he knew, the whole family had laughed over it afterward.
Perhaps he’d better become more accustomed to taking in a jest? That might just be it.
In any case, he was growing tired of all this nonsense. He’d decided to wed, he’d found the lady he wished to wed, and he thought she was agreeable. Or at least, shehadbeen agreeable. That should have been the end of it. There was no reason for these endless complications. He was fed up with it.
On the chance that she was no longer agreeable, or not at this moment agreeable, surely he could change her mind. Surely. There is, or at least was, something between them. He knew it. He was all but certain she knew it. Why were a pile of ridiculous prints circulating to get in the way of it?
“There is no dancing at Lady Darlington’s masque, none organized in any case,” Lady Pegatha said. “It will just be people milling round in costumes until the hostess names her winners and gives out her prizes. Do you have a particular strategy for the evening?”
“I do, now that I think of it. I plan to be rudely ignoring of every lady but for Lady Verity. If the duke attempts to send me away, I will only move off a few feet. He cannot make me leave the masque, after all. Then everybody will be clear that I am not on fire or fainting or spineless. I will make my apology and state my case. We will see what she says to it.”
Lady Pegatha smiled. “I like it,” she said. “Just one little note, though. Perhaps you might want to say something more romantic than stating your case, as you term it. Just keep in mind that you will not be speaking to The Royal Society, but a lady deciding if she will wish to hook her carriage to your horses until the end of time.”
Romantic, yes, he’d better give that some thought. He’d allowed his mind to be so focused on the scientific and facts that he had no notion of what might be pleasing to a lady to hear at such a moment. “What did Lord Bessworth say to you when he proposed marriage?”
This sent his aunt into peals of laughter. “Gracious, I have not thought of that proposal in years. He told me my eyes were stars and my skin a fine China. It was all going exceedingly well until he told me my lips were tulips. You see how funny that was—my lips were two lips? I quite adored him for it. Why not? I was mad about him, and he could have said my lips were nettles and I would have accepted him.”
Henry nodded. He would avoid any mention of tulips. What hewouldmention, he did not have the faintest idea.
“The important thing was, he gave it his best try,” Lady Pegatha said. “Really, a lady in love is only looking for effort, not Shakespeare.”
Henry supposed that was the real question. Was Lady Verity in love? She might have been, but he really did not know where her mind had gone since he’d last seen her.
He was determined to find out, though.
*
“It’s magnificent, Verity,”Winsome said, once more examining the costume the queen had sent to the house.
It had come earlier in the day and even Valor had been bowled over by it, despite holding the opinion that Verity should not go to the masque and they should all go home and live happily together in the Dales forever.
