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“I shall give you space” was all he said as he turned around, closing the door gently. It was then I tossed the papers in my hand.
I cared about nothing…nothing but her, which was why this hurt so badly.
Verity
I had not slept or eaten as I waited in torture to hear of any gossip of me amongst the ton the next day. I half expected Mrs. Loquac to come knocking at the door to investigate further on behalf of her other clients. Thankfully, there was none. Instead, everyone spoke of the charming and beautiful Lady Whitmear, who had just arrived in London.
“She has invited us to a tea? Today?” Hathor questioned her mama as she took her seat beside me. “I did not know you were so well acquainted with her, Mother.”
“I am not. However, she does not plan to stay in London long so she wishes to meet a few of the ladies of the ton before she leaves,” the marchioness said as she stirred her tea, looking over new curtain designs. “I saw no reason to decline the invitation.”
“Her connection with Dr. Darrington ought to be reason enough,” Hathor argued. “We have openly supported him.”
“Their personal affairs are not our concern, my dear. She asked us to tea, so we shall go for tea.”
“Do you think she plans to persuade us from his company?” Hathor turned, looking at me. “He’s become quite well known among the ton and highly spoken of. Papa might be right about his future relevance. Maybe she has caught wind of it and has come to put a stop to it.”
“Hathor, you need not think so negatively,” the marchioness said to her. “It is simply an afternoon tea, not the third act of a Shakespearean tragedy.”
“It is just odd, is all, for her to seek us out suddenly without another connection.” Once more, she looked at me. “You were with her yesterday, Verity. Did she say anything?”
“Nothing of note,” I lied, touching the necklace Theodore had given me.
“Verity, are you feeling all right?” the marchioness asked me.
“I am fine, just a bit tired.”
“Well, you should rest. Also, I have not seen you wear this necklace before. Where did you—”
“Your ladyship?” Ingrid arrived at the door. “Mrs. Loquac is here.”
No! I sat up, my heart racing. Had she really come to investigate?
“Show her in.”
“Your ladyship. Ladies.” Mrs. Loquac curtsied upon entering with her assistant.
“Hello, Mrs. Loquac, how are you? Please sit. Ingrid, please pour her some tea.”
“Thank you, and I wish I could tell you I was well, but I have heard the most troubling news,” she exclaimed, and I cringed, gripping my own hands so tightly they grew numb.
“My goodness. What is it?”
I leaned in, and, of course, the woman thought to take a rather long sip of her tea.
“Oh, good. How refreshing.”
“I am glad.” The marchioness smiled but was clearly waiting, as was I.
“You shall never believe it, but the most ghastly of affairs has been uncovered. Right beneath our very noses, a trollop, a light skirt!”
The marchioness frowned. “I do not understand.”
Closing my eyes, I tried to prepare myself for the horrors about to be unleashed upon me.
“Miss Edwina Charmant was caught in the most undignified manner with her family’s coachman yesterday at the park!”
I quietly let out a long breath.
“What? The niece of Mrs. Frinton-Smith?”
“Yes. And they say he and the girl have been lovers for a great many weeks now. There, right in the bushes—”
The marchioness faced us quickly. “Girls, go upstairs and get ready for our outing.”
“But, Mama—”
“Upstairs!”
We both stood, Hathor more begrudgingly than I.
“What is the point in coming out if they still treat us as if we were children?” Hathor asked me as we exited. “It is our right to know as much as they.”
“I am sure we will hear eventually.”
She gasped and gripped my arm. “Exactly! So why bother. But can you believe it? Her coachman? I mean, she is not a lady, but to form an attachment with your servant…”
“One cannot help who they come to love, Hathor,” I said as I moved to the stairs. While I was glad it was not my scandal, I did pity the girl who would be left open to attack.
“Yes, but—”
“Oh, girls, good, you are here.”
We both stopped on the stairs to see the marquess exiting the study, two letters in his hands. “I just received some news.”
“Of Edwina? Already? Who is your source? You are neck and neck with Mrs. Loquac.” Hathor laughed.
However, her father looked at her in confusion. “Forgive me, sweetheart, but I have not a clue what you are speaking of.”
“Mrs. Frinton-Smith’s niece Edwina,” Hathor said again.
“What of her?”
Hathor sighed. “Never mind. Mother will inform you shortly. What is your news?”
“Ah, right!” he said, lifting the letters in his hands. “I have just been informed that Lord Wyndham’s eldest son has finally succumbed to his illness.”
