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My hands balled into fists, and I wished for nothing more than to beat his face, but that was clearly what he wanted, to have me branded uncivilized and unworthy to be here—just like in school. The boys did not become better with age; they just became cruel men.
“Yes, sir, that is how she passed, which is why I have an aversion to your treatments. Is there anything else you wish to announce to the room? Is there anyone here who is ignorant of my background?” I asked, glancing around. They looked at me but said nothing. “As I thought. Sir Grisham, your methods of humiliation are even more archaic than your methods of medical practice. The boys of my school have you beat by over a decade, at least, with this.”
Damon snorted beside me and had to look away as Sir Grisham stepped closer to my face. However, he did not speak to me but to the man behind me.
“Lord Monthermer, I believe this is a gentlemen’s club. One should think wisely on whom he invites inside.”
“Noted, Sir Grisham,” he calmly replied as he rechecked his cards.
Sir Grisham turned from me and took his leave. I could not even relax because everyone was still quiet and watching.
“What is the production tonight?” Damon asked me.
“Hamlet.”
“Is that not the same play Drury Lane Company had in production that caused the fire a year ago? The theater only reopened a few months back, and they are tempting fate again?” He looked to his father.
“Are we never to hear Hamlet again because of that? Surely a thing will not happen twice, for I have heard they have taken a great many precautions,” his father answered, and just like that, everyone returned to their conversations, and the altercation seemed to fade into the background…for now, at least.
I was sure it would produce more speculation about me.
I wished to leave, and a part of me thought I ought not to have come, but when the marquess rose to go, he reminded me I was to sit in his box, and her face came to mind.
I would be able to sit beside her, and that alone was worth the world.
Verity
May 24, 1813
By his mere gaze my soul is left asunder.
One part aching,
The other soothing.
Some nights filled with terrors,
Dark rooms without exits.
Tongues that curse above me.
But
Some nights are filled with delight.
Rooms where he and I exist alone.
Kisses that reach the depths of me.
Wary am I…
Truly I was wary. All of me could not rest, for either I was overtaken by my nightmares or thoughts of Theodore. Each moment I was away from him made me more impatient at the chance of seeing him.
“Oh, God!”
The scream was so loud I sat up and turned to the door.
When I heard even more screams, I closed my journal and rushed downstairs into the drawing room, where everyone was dressed and ready for the theater, only to see Hathor jumping and hugging Silva tightly. Beside her were Abena and Devana as well.
“What is happening?” I asked, watching them all radiate with joy.
“Verity.” Silva turned to me, placed her hand on her stomach. “I’m—”
“Having a baby!” Hathor said. “I’m going to be an aunt!”
“Hathor, calm yourself, and take a step back before you do damage,” Damon ordered and nearly pushed her. Hector had to steady her so that she did not fall over.
“Damon!” Silva gasped. “I am not that fragile.”
“We are all so delighted by this news,” said the marchioness from beside her husband, rather calmly by comparison, which could mean only that she already knew.
“Congratulations,” I said to them.
“How does the baby get in there?” Abena questioned loudly as she stared at Silva’s stomach, causing them all to pause.
The expressions on her parents’ and Damon’s and Silva’s faces looked to be of panic.
“What a silly question!” Hathor said, gathering her shawl. “A child is a gift from God. He puts it there for married couples.”
I bit my lip so as not to laugh.
“Yes, exactly,” her mother said, apparently the source of that lie.
“But”—Hathor frowned, thinking now—“if that is the case, then how are there illegitimate children?”
“We are very late!” the marchioness snapped, hands up. “Ladies, we must be going. Sweethearts, be good. We shall see you soon.”
The marchioness kissed Devana, Hector, and Abena before walking quickly over to me. Hathor followed but seemed to still be pondering. Meanwhile, her father and brother were part panicked and part amused.
“Do you like Hamlet?” Hathor asked.
“Yes, actually. It is comforting to see another dysfunctional family,” I joked, forgetting to whom I was speaking.
She looked at me strangely as we got into the carriage. “I have heard many things said of the play but never ‘comforting.’?”
“I mean entertaining,” I lied, smiling. I felt that if I had said as much to Theodore, he would have understood.
