Page 18 of When He Was Wicked
Aunt Imogen had been the only person who had believed Verity when she had named the marquess a debauched snake. She had been the one to come upon them in the grotto with the marquess’s heavy weight pinning Verity to the damp earth. Aunt Imogen thought she had interrupted a lover’s tryst, until she had seen the state of Verity’s clothing and her bruised cheeks. It still amazed Verity that even with her aunt’s unflinching support, her mother and brother had been so quick to turn a blind eye. The sisters’ close relationship had been altered to mamma’s distress, but Aunt Imogen was not forgiving of their disloyalty.
A knock sounded and she glanced up as her lady’s maid entered. “Her ladyship bids you to attend her in the drawing room, Lady Verity.”
“I shall be along shortly,” she said with a small smile which felt tight.
Her toilette had already been completed for the morning, her hair coiffed in a simple but elegant chignon, and she had donned a simple but graceful long-sleeved dark blue day dress with a scalloped neckline. She did not anticipate spending the day in the presence of her mother. She had escaped it yesterday by calling on Pippa for the better part of that afternoon, and then dining with the Duchess and her wonderful husband. Of course, mamma had been happy to let her go, admiring the well-connected company Verity kept.
The only thing she anticipated today was the earl’s carriage arriving for her under the banner of secrecy. She was eager to start learning the rudiments of fighting. Even though a part of her suspected she might need more than fighting lessons to overcome the fear seeing the marquess always inspired. When he had approached James at the club, she should have been stronger, but how her heart had pounded, and the memories had ravaged her.
There had been a sick sense of fear that he might have recognized her and acted in a dastardly fashion. James wouldn’t have allowed it. Verity smiled. How odd that she should have such faith in a man she hardly knew. And what was it about him which made her find his presence relaxing? She recalled the harsh upbringing he’d endured and her admiration for him rose like a gentle swell.
Sounds of servants’ feet in the hallway urged her to stand. Her mother would not be pleased to be kept waiting. With an impatient sigh, Verity made her way from the chamber to the ground floor and rested the letter on the mantle in the hallway. The butler would frank and post it along with the others on the silver salver. Verity then made her way to the drawing room, foregoing the breakfast room.
Her mother awaited her, the room artfully arranged with flowers and a tea service.
“You’ve overslept,” her mother said, her lips thin with disapproval. “I am sure you are aware we are to receive several callers today. It is almost noon, Verity.”
“I wrote to Aunt Imogen and lost track of the time.”
Her mother’s face softened at the mention of her sister, and Verity did not like to admire her delicate beauty, not when she believed her mother’s heart was blackened by selfish desires and greed. Countess Sutcliffe was a lady in her early forties, and beautiful with lustrous dark hair which showed no gray. In truthher features held a unique blush of youth, her light blue eyes still sparkled with vitality. There had been a time when Verity had loved her and sought to emulate her grace and elegance.
Now, she was not sure what she felt for her mother. There was always a wash of pain and disappointment whenever she saw her. And it gutted her that she wondered some days if she loved her mother still. Or if her mother loved her.
“Lord Aldridge and his mother are to call today. I trust you will make a good impression.”
“There is a rumor that Lord Aldridge is impoverished,” Verity said, sitting, shifting on the plush sofa to face her mother. “It seems my inheritance of twenty thousand pounds from papa and my dowry of another ten thousand is quite appealing. I know talk of money is crass mamma, but surely someone should tell the viscount that papa made his will so that my inheritance is my own and does not become my husband’s upon marriage. Perhaps then he would be less evident in a pursuit I am not interested in.”
Her mother’s eyes flashed. “Upon my word, you will mind your tongue, Verity! It is these willful ways of yours that led to….”
Her mother looked away and Verity stared at her in pained silence.
“It is my willful tongue which allowed a dishonest libertine to try and take my virtue?” Though she was just as surprised her mother had been about to mention the incident. Neither mamma nor Albert normally spoke of the pain of Verity’s past of their own volition.
Red swept along her mother’s elegant cheekbones and Verity fought down the guilt which had tormented her in the early days. If she had not flirted with the marquess, allowed his chaste kisses, walked alone with him by the lake and the grotto…she would have been safe. It had taken her a long time to realize thatthe dishonor belonged to him alone, and it had been the gentle guidance of her dear Aunt Imogen which had helped Verity.
When her mamma finally shifted her eyes back to Verity there was such heartbreak and pain in them, it almost strangled her. “Mamma?”
Her mother’s eyes welled with tears and Verity’s hand fluttered to her throat.
“Verity, my dear—”
A knock interrupted, and the butler entered to announce Lady Metcalf and her two daughters. Verity stood to receive their callers and her hands trembled as she smoothed down the skirts of her dress. There had been such strong emotions on her mother’s face, it reminded Verity of a time when her mother had kissed her bruises and hugged her before putting her to bed.
Lady Metcalf and her daughters entered, and her mother shifted into the consummate hostess, greeting them with pleasant warmth, and ringing for more tea and pastries. Verity hardly paid attention to the ladies of thetonwho made their weekly calls at their townhouse—a few matrons her mother’s age with their marriageable daughters in obedient tow, all with the aim of securing her brother as a suitor. Before two in the afternoon they had received four callers. One was Lord Aldridge with whom Verity was obliged to take a turn in the small gardens at the back of the townhouse in full view of her mother from the drawing room.
He was a very elegant young gentleman who boasted a fashionable appearance. He was slimly built, with plain features, but with an air of considerable self-consequence. Which would be expected by some since he was a viscount with a rumored income of over thirty thousand pounds a year. Could he truly be impoverished as the rumors hinted and sought an heiress?
He was surprisingly pleasant and amusing, but Verity only felt a sense of wariness around him and could not escape theknowledge that he and the marquess Durham were close friends. Did pits of snakes not writhe together? They spent several minutes in discourse with an exchange of very proper nothings—the weather, the lateston dits, and even a lemon pie he had eaten earlier.
“Oh dear!” she said in a deliberately dramatic fashion, but with charming civility. “I just recalled I have an urgent meeting, Lord Aldridge. I must take my leave right away. Please apologize to your mother for me.”
“Certainly,” he replied with such cordiality she felt a slight pang of guilt for her dismissive attitude. “I do hope everything is well, Lady Verity.”
“My lord,” Verity said, “May I speak frankly?”
He dealt her a considering glance. “It would please me.”
“I will not consent to a courtship if that is your desire. I am certain my brother made some assurance that I will agree to such a union, but he misspoke. I apologize sincerely.”
