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“I will not let this lie – he has disobeyed my command, and that must be addressed. These are my lands, and I have a responsibility for the behaviour of every person who lives on them. I am not willing to allow this to go unpunished.”
It was obvious that Daniel was outraged.
“But...”
“No Verity, your reputation and mine must be cleared. I don’t believe in duels, but I will have a talk with him and with his father. It will be put right. Consider it done.”
“And I will go with you sir”, her father interjected. “He has tried to ruin the reputation of the daughter of an Earl, the widow of a Baron’s son, let alone the likely future Duchess of Summerfield – that last part being something which he need not know at this time.” Smiling wryly, he again clasped Verity’s hand, rather enjoying her blush. “We will return when we’ve dealt with this business, daughter. You had best rest yourself, for you are looking peaked. And I’m going to send a dressmaker over here - those worn mourning rags are not deserving of you – they no longer fit properly, now that your shape is changing from the child, and it is time that you had something better. Six months has passed – you can move to half mourning, with some variety in dark colours, rather than this unrelieved black.”
Verity blinked rapidly and managed to forestall her tears, of confusion, joy, and gratitude, until the door shut behind the three men.
*****
John Hanson went back to the home farm, leaving Daniel and the Earl to ride into the village. Daniel waited until they were halfway to the Inn, before telling Verity’s father of the carriage accident, and his belief that Dirk had been the perpetrator of that near disaster as well. The Earl near exploded in anger at this news.
“The difficulty here, my Lord, is that the Innkeeper has tried his best to rein in his son’s behaviour – but obviously, the displeasure of a parent does not carry much weight, when a young man is at this rebellious stage. At the same time, I’d not want to do anything which would take away the boy’s freedom. His parents need him to help run the Inn, and they are good people. So we need a solution which will make everyone in the village aware of his bad behaviour, in such a way that they all conspire to keep him better behaved in future.”
“I see. That’s a challenge, let me think on it as we ride. For you are right – having spent these last months estranged from my daughter, I’d not wish to put another man in the position of losing his child.”
They rode on, and by the time they reached the Inn, they had, between them, concocted a plan.
*****
In the end, Verity actually almost felt sorry for young Dirk, when some hours later the men returned, and informed her of the resolution of the matter.
The punishment agreed upon by Daniel and Dirk’s father was that the boy would go up and down the town with placards on his chest and back that said‘LIAR’. He would furthermore, for three full weeks, spend at least an hour a day loudly proclaiming his perfidy and the innocence of the Duke and the widow, Mrs. Millwood. His gleeful younger brother, Luke, was charged to follow him and report to their father on his compliance.
Chapter Nine
While the men were away, Verity had done as she’d told Daniel she would, and attempted a sketch of the man who had accosted her at the Inn. She feared that it was not well done, for that had been months ago, and her memory of it was, perforce, less clear. Still, she felt that she had captured the indication of the man – the curve of his cheek and chin, the fall of his hair, the line of his brow. Perhaps it would be enough to satisfy Daniel’s wish to know more.
She’d given it to Daniel when he returned, and he had studied it, his expression darkening as he did. After a moment, he had asked if he might keep it, to make it easier ’to look out for the scoundrel’. She had unhesitatingly agreed that he might have it, but had wondered at his expression. It was as if he recognised the man, as if there was something about this that he was not telling her. She did not ask, however – that she could do at a later time, when they were alone.
Over a lovely supper that evening, her first meal together with her father in many months, with Daniel and also, at his insistence, John Hanson and Maggie Carter, Verity could only wonder at the turn of events. Daniel was attentive and kind, but his countenance had, since she had given him the sketch, an undercurrent of anger she did not understand. She allowed her father’s obvious love and concern to distract her from worrying about Daniel. Much discussion at the table was of the confusing intent of those at Wexley House.
“But daughter, how can you say that your in-laws rejected you? I came to search for you, emboldened by regret and a letter from Lady Wexley herself, which enquired of me why you had not come to them to share your mutual grief.”
“I beg to differ father, I have their letter in my reticule. They definitely did not want me to come. Lady Wexley was said to be hysterical with grief and unable to cope with daily reminders of what she had lost.”
“That is not the woman who wrote with such concern and, indeed, love, enquiring about your health and whereabouts. I fear that your missive was not from her, but was meant to dissuade your presence for some untoward reason. We will pursue the matter shortly. Let us first cement our reunion. Come home with me for your remaining months of confinement.”
*****
Daniel cleared his throat. And hoped that his pounding heart was not audible.
“Lord Ainsley, it is several days journey to your home. Verity has been advised by my physician to rest a great deal and to not take any long journeys. I suggest an alternative. While this cottage is not spacious, Summerfield Park is nearby. Why not take your leisure there and be close at hand to spend time with, and encourage, your daughter, without endangering her or her child?”
The Earl looked startled, but took only a few moments to reply.
“Indeed, I had not thought of that perspective. My own wife died in childbirth, and the son she would have borne me with her. I do have an older son, but he is rarely at home, as if he is simply waiting for my death and his title. I would never endanger dear Verity - so I accept your offer. I will have to send for a trunk, and my valet, as I brought little with me.”
“Easily done my Lord, only write a short note and my man John, here, will see it delivered by his son.”
*****
Over the next week, Verity’s father dined with the Duke and was doubly impressed that his daughter seemed to have had the great luck to have come into the company of such a good man.
He felt much relieved that he had reconciled with Verity, for he wouldn’t want a long-term estrangement on his conscience, and he found himself almost looking forward to a grandson. Even if he would only be a Baron someday. She could bear the Duke an heir and then he’d have even more titles in the family. He shook his head at his own pretentiousness.
