Lord Wembly had a word with the Lord Chamberlain, that gentleman looking very stern and seeming to consider what was said to him.
“Your Majesty,” Verity daringly whispered, “he will not be turned away?”
“Certainly not,” the queen said, “where would be the fun in that? Though, Dartmouth does terrifically at pretending he is weighing the matter.”
The earl really did do terrifically. Verity was entirely convinced that Lord Dartmouth had not positively decided to allow Lord Wembly to approach.
Finally, the Lord Chamberlain gave a grave nod, and Lord Wembly was allowed to proceed, while Lady Pegatha and Lady Lilith remained by Lord Dartmouth’s side.
Why was Lady Lilith there anyway? She was dressed as a charming milkmaid. Why should she be one of Lord Wembly’s party? Why was she staring at Lord Wembly so intently?
“Your Majesty,” Lord Wembly said with a deep bow. “Your Grace, Lady Verity.”
“Wembly,” the queen said. “I understand you have created quite a lot of talk these days?”
“None that I have meant to, Your Majesty.”
“I suppose you’ve seen the print where you are in repose on a fainting couch?” the queen said with a smile.
“I have, Your Majesty. Though I hope I may be so bold as to point out that I am not in a faint, nor have I ever been. I do not believe the author of that drivel knows my character very well.”
Verity felt the blood drain from her face. Perhaps it had drained from her entire. body and was now in a pool under her chair. Thatdrivel? The queen herself had composed that print.
Silence had descended on the party.
The duke said, “That’s what I like about you, Wembly. If there is a pile of manure within a mile, you’ll find it and step in it.”
Very naturally, Lord Wembly seemed put on the back foot over that comment.
“I, your queen, composed that print,” the queen said, sounding in high dudgeon.
Now Lord Wembly was so far on the back foot that Verity wondered if he would fall over.
“I deeply apologize, Your Majesty,” Lord Wembly said. “It was humorously done, of course. But I must insist, I was never in a faint or anything like what those other prints portrayed.”
“Other prints?” the queen asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the duke said, “there was one with his posterior afire, and another with him slumped in a chair and named spineless.”
The queen seemed to lose her irritation over the amusement of it. “Wembly, do you make it a habit of causing so many prints to be made about you?”
“I have not in the past, Your Majesty, and hope never to do so again.”
“I see,” the queen said. “Well? Beyond insulting my print and making a general spectacle of yourself, was there anything else you wished to accomplish?”
“If I might request to take Lady Verity on a turn about the room?”
The queen looked to Verity’s father. “What say you, Duke?”
Verity leaned forward to catch a glimpse of her father and encourage him to acquiesce.
“I’ll leave it to Verity, Your Majesty. All my girls have sense enough to decide for themselves.”
Verity sprang from her chair. “I’ll go…That is, I am agreeable to a turn around the room. Your Majesty.” She curtsied. Lord Wembly held his arm out and they set off.
Not a moment later, Verity noticed they were being trailed by Lady Pegatha and Lady Lilith. Lord Wembly seemed to notice too.
He turned and said, “Aunt Pegatha, perhaps you might escort Lady Lilith…somewhere. Perhaps to the tables where Lady Darlington has set out her voting tickets for the costumes.”
