Page 8 of When He Was Wicked
Verity then made her way to the drawing room where the duchess awaited her. Pippa lowered her teacup when Verity entered and smiled brightly. The Duchess was draped in a dark yellow gown which flattered her curvaceous figure to its best advantage. Her dark hair was fashioned in an intricate chignon and several strands of lustrous pearls encircled her neck, with matching ear bobs.
“How did last night go?” she asked archly without indulging in any pleasantries.
Verity had been comfortable in confiding her plans to Pippa, and the duchess had been present at tea when Lady Caroline had named the earl as the gentleman to help Verity.
She laughed softly, even if without humor. She lowered herself beside the duchess on the sofa and shifted slightly, so they faced each other. “Disastrous. The earl refused. But I was not seen, and my family believes I spent the evening in my room with a book.”
Her gray eyes went soft with sympathy. “Oh Verity, I am terribly sorry. The notion had been hare-brained, but I did so hope for your sake he would agree.”
She leaned forward and poured herself another cup of tea from the service trolley. “My brother also seems determined to hand me off to Viscount Aldridge, a man whom I’ve no affection for. I do wish to marry and move away from this dreadful family, but I would like my husband to be my own choice.”
Pippa frowned. “I’ve every reason to believe that Viscount Aldridge is a fortune-hunter, and I should speculate on it and warn this season’s crop of fresh debutantes,” said the duchess. “The viscount and his younger brothers are notorious for their profligacy. I am at a loss as to why your brother would think such a match suitable! I daresay the viscount is after your inheritance.”
Her eyes held a great deal of intelligence as she stared at Verity. “What will you do?”
“About the Lord Maschelly or Lord Aldridge?”
The duchess popped a piece of cake and chewed thoughtfully before answering, “Both.”
“I will not marry Lord Aldridge even if they drag me kicking and screaming to the altar. I know who I want to marry. Not his name, but his character. Someone kind and gentle. Protective. Safe. A man who does not make me feel threatened.”
An image of the earl’s brawn and the peculiar heat she’d felt upon looking at him brought a surge of discomfort through Verity. Oddly she hadn’t felt frightened in his presence, more of an awareness of his male appeal.
“As for the earl, perhaps I will be able to find myself another lord to assist.”
“I suppose there is more than one wicked rogue that could be convinced of your madness,” Pippa said.
The idea had been to approach a man on the fringe of society’s good graces, one wicked and scandalous enough that he would not care she was breaking the rules of propriety. He wouldn't care that she was being reckless and independent. He wouldn't care that she was trying to be bold. But he would have enough honor not to take advantage of her pain and need to learn. Only the earl of Maschelly had seemed to fit the type of man she needed.
“Unfortunately, no one else will do. Perhaps I will have to find another way to entice him to render aid.”
Pippa arched a brow. “I am all ears.”
Except she had no notion how to convince him. Frustrated Verity cried, “Perhaps I shall offer him kisses instead of lessons of etiquette. Isn’t he London’s wickedest earl? Perhaps I offered the wrong incentive!”
The duchess dissolved into a peal of laughter, and it was so carefree and unconcerned with decorum, Verity smiled. “I suppose it does seem a trifle unreasonable.”
“Only unreasonable?” the duchess asked with a twinkle in her eyes. “I cannot help think you found Lord Maschelly interesting.”
More like compelling. But Verity did not say so, instead deftly shifting the topic. “Will you be at Lady Springfield’s ball later on? My brother has demanded my presence, and I fear I cannot plead a headache again. Your presence will surely enliven my boredom greatly.” And perhaps aid Verity in keeping her sanity if she should encounter the marquess.
“I shall be there,” Pippa said.
And a tension Verity hadn’t been quite aware of lifted from her shoulders. She would attend this ball and have a jolly good time. She’d not let memories of that vile snake steal any more enjoyment from her life. However, Verity would be cautious and ensure she stayed close to her friends for the night.
It washis veiled lady indeed.
Sebastian had indicated this young lady, saying Fanny had known of only one person to fit the circumstances he’d described—a Lady Verity, whose family held the Earldom of Sutcliffe. Staring at her now, James recognized her with little effort. He was certain this young lady in the beautiful icy blue ballgown with pearls seeded in the hems, a charmingly lowered décolletage, and tiny puffed sleeves was truly her.
Though he could not see her face, how she moved, slow and graceful; the way she spoke with her hands, delicate, fluttery movements revealed her to him, for such mannerism reflected those of the lady who had visited him. The shape and size were also entirely accurate. She appeared a petite, fragile-looking young woman with a head of the richest darkest hair he’d ever beheld. She was apparently a lady of excellent breeding with a sensuality that was unstudied and quite appealing. James watched her discreetly from his position on the balcony of the upper floor drowning out the idle chatter and laughter around him.
A man approached her, and she stiffened. The smile of her lips appeared strained to James even at this distance. But then she laughed, and he frowned. The lady dipped into a curtsy, and a few moments later she was on the dance floor with the man. She was the embodiment of grace and elegance as the man twirled her into a waltz.
An unfathomable need to be the one dancing with her arrowed through his heart. He smiled slightly without humor. He was a bumbling oaf when he tried to dance. The few lessonshe had dared to take several months ago would not have him moving with such grace as those dandies on the floor.
An undeniable curiosity rose within him as he watched her. She seemed so at ease in the crush, not how he imagined someone who had been away for four years would appear.Is it truly you, Lady Verity?The dance ended, and he moved through the crowd, drifting closer to her. His mysterious lady collected a glass of champagne from a passing footman, and sipped. The lady shifted, and their gazes collided. The last remnants of his uncertainty died. This was the woman who had visited last night. Her lips parted on a gasp, and her eyes widened with recognition, hope, and oddly, panic. Clearly, she did not expect any form of social interaction between them, only clandestine meetings.
This close, he noted her finely molded cheekbones were slightly high, her skin creamy and glowing with health, her lips generous and soft. There was a stubborn pride in the set of her small chin, and her eyes were the brownest he'd ever seen. Her lovely eyes were under delicately arched brows, and her generous mouth seemed to be made for smiling and perhaps kissing. Faintly shocked at his errant thought, he glanced away briefly. His eyes traveling over the many people at Lady Springfield's townhouse, every public room, garden, and terrace seemed to be overflowing with guests.
