“There he is, the rascal of a duke with the never-ending supply of daughters,” the lady said, laughing.
Verity thought the lady looked far less imposing when she laughed. And good gracious, the lady seemed rather fond of herfather. So many people seemed to disapprove of him that it was rather gratifying.
“Number five,” the duke said. “This one is Lady Verity. I’m launching them out of the house as fast as I can. Verity, this is the Countess of Westmoreland. She knows well enough that I’ve a flask of brandy in my coat and will not tell any tales about it.”
“Why should I? I drank my fill of champagne before I arrived. In any case, I suppose a duke can do what he likes.”
“That’s the spirit!” the duke said.
“Lady Verity,” the countess said, as Verity made her curtsy. “Charming. I do not imagine you will have any trouble in the launching out of the house your father is determined on.”
Verity supposed this was a comment on her looks, and she was a little relieved about it as she was counting on them to see her through.
“Now, I will manage your card as it’s your first time out. Do you have any particular preferences?”
Preferences? She knew nobody. The only preference she had at the moment was to dance with gentlemen who might approve of her. Such as she was. And not ask her any questions she would not know the answer to.
“Ah, never mind it, I see I have made you blush,” the countess said. “Well, there are certainly plenty to pick from this evening. Lord Wembly has even decided to drag himself away from his intellectual pursuits to grace us with his presence. We did not see him at all last season, so I suppose we must feel the compliment.”
A gentleman with intellectual pursuits? Verity felt a chill down her spine. The last gentleman in London she would wish to be introduced to was one who was taken up with intellectual pursuits.
She longed to beg the countess to find her a Corinthian who would not know a book if it hit him over the head. She stayedsilent, though, as how would a request such as that possibly be phrased?
“Carry on, duke, and do not be too naughty about showing that flask,” the countess said. “We should not like any other lords to pick up the habit.” She tapped his arm in a mock warning and sailed off to greet some newer arrivals.
The duke put out his arm and led Verity into the ballroom, she all the while praying this Lord Wembly person would be entirely engaged for the evening. Whoever he was, he was not for her, and she most certainly was not for him.
She searched the ballroom. There they were—her family contingent, all gathered together. Felicity with Mr. Stratton, Grace with Lord Dashlend, Patience with Lord Stanford, and Serenity with Lord Thorpe. All together, waiting for her.
“There’s my girls and my collection of sons-in-laws,” the duke said jovially, leading her to them.
Verity felt as if she were heading toward her life raft in a vast ocean of uncertainty.
