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‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That would be best. I will see you at dinner.’ And he went out without dropping the passing kiss on her cheek that had become his custom.
‘That was an excellent sermon,’ Lady Narborough remarked, leading her party out of the precincts of St James’s Palace and onto the gravelled walk bordering Green Park. ‘One can never be certain, with the Chapel Royal, if one will be honoured with the Royal dukes and their habit of talking through out the service.’
Julia, on Hal’s arm, rather thought she would have liked to see one of the corpulent and blunt-spoken brothers of the Regent, but deemed it tactful not to say so.
Marcus was escorting his mother, while Verity walked with her father in front. ‘Are you sure Father will be all right walking?’ he murmured to his mother. ‘He could have gone with Nell in the barouche. I can still go back to St James’s for a cab.’
‘I think the fresh air will do him good.’ Lady Narborough studied her husband’s erect back. ‘His colour is better and he has his stick.’
As she spoke, Lord Narborough flourished it in greeting and a group that had been walking across the grass towards them waved back.
‘The Veryans,’ Hal explained. ‘Viscount Ked din ton is an old friend—a junior colleague of my father’s when…when there was the trouble, and he is Verity’s godfather. I mentioned him the other day.’
‘I remember. He wants to give Verity a harp.’ Julia nodded. ‘Those are his daughters, I have seen them with Verity.’
‘And Alexander, his son. He’s up at Oxford, a don of sorts, I believe. Mama thinks he would do for Verity.’
‘Really?’ Julia studied the young man as he approached. His father was tall, slim and dryly elegant and looked intimidating intelligent. The son was a blurred copy: shorter, plumper, less perfectly tailored, but his pale eyes were as sharp and assessing as his father’s. He certainly did not look like the dashing hero of Verity’s innocent day dreams.
There was a flurry of introductions. The Misses Veryan talked to Verity about new gowns and ignored Julia. Mr Alexander Veryan positioned himself where he could look at Verity and made rather laboured conversation with Lord and Lady Narborough, and Lord Keddin ton came to shake hands with Julia.
He had a certain astrin gent charm, Julia decided, and he would probably be excellent company provided one said nothing foolish and did not allow oneself to be intimidated by him. ‘What a very pretty rose,’ she remarked, seeing his button-hole. The slim white bud had petals edged with green.
‘Unusual, certainly. Allow me, Mrs Carlow.’ He plucked it from his coat and handed it to Julia.
‘Why, thank you, my lord.’ Julia twirled it under her nose, inhaling the sweet apple scent of the rose and the tang of the herb backing it. ‘Rosemary, I would never have thought of that. It goes so well.’ She tucked it into the top button hole of her pelisse as the three of them walked to join the others.
‘Very goo
d to see you out and about, sir,’ she heard Alexander Veryan saying in his carrying, lecturer’s voice. ‘Nothing like making an appearance to put a stop to all those rumours.’
‘What rumours?’ Lord Narborough said. Hal swore viciously under his breath and took an urgent stride forward.
‘Why, about that murder and the hanging all those years ago,’ Alexander went on, apparently unaware of both Carlow sons bearing down on him and of Lady Narborough’s white face. ‘No-one who knows you takes any notice, naturally. Still, nasty to have talk about French spies, just now. Although I do not consider it the slightest bit suspicious that you did nothing at the time—why should you have if the man was guilty?’
‘Alexander!’ Lord Keddinton’s voice cut through his son’s chatter. ‘Damn it, do not repeat that vicious garbage.’
‘I just thought I’d congratulate Lord Narborough on facing it down—oh, I say, sir! Are you all right?’
Marcus and Hal reached their father as he toppled, his left fist clenched over his heart, his lips blue. Lady Narborough swayed and Lord Ked din ton caught her in his arms as Verity screamed.
Julia saw a barouche proceeding sedately along the nearest ride and ran, casting aside her prayer book and parasol. ‘Stop! Please stop!’
When she returned with it, the owner, an elderly widow, urged her two stout footmen to help. Between them they got Lord and Lady Narborough into the carriage, Hal climbed up with the driver and Marcus swung up behind.
‘As fast as you can, Roberts!’ the widow called as Hal gave him the direction.
‘Go on,’ Julia urged, ‘I’ll bring Verity home.’
Verity, in tears, was being held firmly to Alexander Veryan’s shoulder. His father looked grim.
‘Will you please go and get a cab, Mr Veryan,’ Julia said, disentangling her sobbing sister in law from his arms. ‘We will follow.’
‘Miss Carlow needs my support—’
‘I feel, sir, that you have done more than enough for one day,’ Julia snapped. ‘Verity, take my handkerchief and blow your nose. Weeping is not going to help. Thank you, my lord.’ Ked din ton handed her her parasol and prayer book as his son hurried off towards the Palace.
Julia led Verity, hic cup ping into the handkerchief, after him.
