And that would have to do. “Please tell your viscountess I would appreciate any insight she could offer.”
“Did you receive an invitation to Lady Springfield’s ball?”
James usually ignored most of the invitations sent to his home, especially the frivolous variety. This had been the first season he had tried to dip his toes into the tricky waters of thetonto net himself a lady of quality. Foolish of him to believe a young lady would appreciate his checkered past. His title and wealth seemed to have little meaning to the one lady who had caught his fancy. He was not quite refined enough for her sensibilities. Now he couldn’t stop thinking that many, if not all, ladies would have a similar opinion.A gentleman. What had Lady Susanna accused him of tearily when she'd rejected his suit? Ah yes, he had never asked her to dance, nor had he written her poems, or personally delivered flowers. James scowled recalling her hysterical nonsense. “How is Lady Springfield’s ball relevant?”
“The Countess likes scandal and anything society deems as too wicked, so I am sure she sent you one.”
“I am assuming you have a point.”
“According to my lovely wife, everyone who’s anyone will be at Lady Springfield’s ball tonight. Perhaps your mysterious lady will be present.”
James felt bewildered at the waves of anticipation that buffeted him. “Then I shall endeavor to be there.”
They resumed their friendly sparring, and almost an hour later, James departed and made his way home. He headed straight to his chamber, the weight of the evening before—the sleepless night, and his sparring settling on his shoulder like a boulder. He removed all his clothing and unmentionables until he was naked, then he dropped himself onto his bed with a deep groan of relief. Sleep beckoned, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of profound anticipation at attending a ball.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You retired early from Lady Balfour’s ball last evening,” Albert, Earl of Sutcliffe, and Verity’s brother said in a very disagreeable tone. “Lord Aldridge was considerably disappointed he’d not been able to dance the supper waltz with you.”
“I had a headache and had to leave. Surely mamma informed you?” Verity said, spreading strawberry preserves atop her bread.
Their mother took a delicate sip of her tea, before speaking. “I did inform your brother, he is determined to be contrary. And, my dear, you missed an excessively diverting evening.”
“You left within half an hour of arriving,” Albert said. “What did you do upon arriving home?”
For a wild moment, she wondered if he knew of her clandestine activities. Surely not? For then there would have been threats of banishment to the country, or God forbid, to a mental house. “I find it quite odd you need the details of my evening, Albert. But if you must know, after having a few relaxing cups of tea, I had a very agreeable evening reading,” she said with a polite smile.
Her brother nodded as if he approved heartily as to how she spent her time. "You'll rest and ensure you come with mamma and me to Lady Springfield’s ball tonight. Viscount Aldridge is interested in courting you, he made his sentiments known to me.”
Verity stared at her brother for several moments. “I am three and twenty, Albert. I am quite able to decide on a gentleman I am comfortable with for marriage. Lord Aldridge does not suit my temperament, and I am certain he could not be interested in me since we have never spoken beyond polite queries about the weather.”
Her brother slammed his fist on the table, startling her. “You will listen—” Albert broke off, controlling himself with a visible effort, setting his teeth. “I am only doing what is best for you, Verity. He has an estate in Berkshire, and in Kent. His income is twenty thousand a year, and I have seen how he admires you. It is prudent to give the viscount a chance, and I'll not allow any silly excuses for you. You are three and twenty, and it is time you live on another's benevolence.”
She dabbed her lips with a serviette, trying to control the anger twisting through her. “The viscount is…he is friends with the marquess. I could not endure such a connection, nor will I pretend to.”
Verity did not need to name him. It lingered in the air…the marquess who attacked and hurt me.
A grimace of anger crossed her brother’s face. He did not like whenever Verity mentioned the “distasteful incident,” the sobriquet he’d applied to her greatest shame and pain.
"We have agreed to leave that distasteful in—"
“In Bedfordshire, I know. So you and mamma repeatedly inform me with little regards to my feelings and well-being.”
“Verity!” her mother scolded, disapproval crinkling the lines at her mouth. "There is no need to castigate your brother. Weare supporting you in not speaking of your behavior and how it almost ruined a connection with Lord—"
“Do not speak his name!” She tried to steady her voice. In another moment she would be weeping, she realized with panic. It would kill something inside of her if they realized how much the entire dreadful encounter still scared and pained her. Not when they had not cared. Not when they cared more about their connections in thetonthan her safety and happiness. Not when they held no belief in her honor. “If you will excuse me.”
She pushed her chair back, stood, and sedately made her way from the breakfast room before she did something shocking like throwing the dish of strawberry preserves into her brother’s face. Pausing, she turned around and lifted her chin. “Father would have been abjectly ashamed of both of you for he would never have permitted anyone to escape the consequences of such vile actions.” There, before she’d not have the courage to say it to their faces.
Her mother called her name, and Verity pretended not to hear the admonition. She made her way to her room and over to her writing desk. There she lowered herself into a chair and reached into the small drawer for a sheaf of paper. She would pen a letter to the earl, but what could she say? She had already revealed so much of her fears and vulnerabilities to a man she did not know. The awareness had left her sleep troubled, an unknown desperation lodged inside her heart.
Tonight, she would see Marquess Durham. Bile rose in her throat.Courage, Verity, she reminded herself. They were of the same society, and she had to learn how to be in the vile cur’s presence without fighting the urge to cast up her accounts.
A knock sounded, and her lady’s maid Anna entered. “The Duchess of Carlyle has called for you, my lady.”
A swift rush of pleasure claimed Verity, and she forgot about writing a letter to plead with the earl. She and the Duchesshad only become friends recently, after the scandal which had blasted through thetonjust a few months past. Miss Pippa Cavanaugh, now the Duchess of Carlyle, had been a notorious gossip columnist who had snared herself one of society’s beloved dukes. Society had been a party to their love affair as some of their laundry had been aired in the newspapers to the delight of theton.
The couple had been infamous, and even her mother had scrambled to invite the duke and duchess of Carlyle to their dinner parties and intimate circles. It was at Lady Somerton’s ball however Verity had made Pippa’s acquaintance. Verity had informed the new duchess how much her courage had inspired her, and they had become close. It was a friendship Verity treasured. She quickly changed into a more presentable gown, a light blue plaid taffeta dress, with its tight waist and elegant ruffled elbow-length sleeves.
