Least Likely to Marry a Duke (Liberated Ladies)

‘Go to her. London. Fashionable. Knows everyone.’

‘You want me to go to London? But the scandal—whatever you and the Duke can do here to make people realise there is nothing to the rumours, people will write to friends and relatives in town. It is too good a story not to share.’

The Bishop nodded vigorously. ‘Exactly. London is where you must quash the rumours. Caroline can do it.’

And, Verity realised, she probably could. Her father’s sister had married Lord Fairlie, a mere baron perhaps, but an exceptionally well-connected and very wealthy baron who had the entrée everywhere. His wife held a select monthly salon where one might find princesses mingling with artists, bankers with scientists and industrialists with Members of Parliament. Caroline was invited everywhere, including the Queen’s House and St James’s Palace.

‘She will tell the Queen,’ her father said, watching her face. ‘Tell the Patronesses at Almack’s. She’ll know what to do to make it right.’

Verity felt slightly dizzy at the thought of the Queen contemplating her adventures, but she rather thought that she would be easier to win round than the formidable Patronesses. If she was barred from Almack’s she might as well give up and return home directly, because everyone who was anyone would soon hear about it.

And Aunt Caroline, who had been known as a dasher in her youth, was not only influential, but blissfully unshockable, and Verity very badly needed an unshockable female confidante.

‘That is a wonderful idea, Papa, but I cannot run away and leave you.’

‘Why not? Not ill.’ He returned her anxious look with a bland, lopsided smile. ‘Not running away. Tactical retreat and counter-attack. I’ll worry less if you are with Caroline.’

‘Very well, Papa. I will write to her straight away.’

Tactical retreat and counter-attack? I only hope I have the nerve for it.

* * *

Of course we understand.

Melissa’s bold black handwriting scrawled across the page. Verity turned it towards the carriage window to catch the last of the evening light as the wheels rumbled across the cobblestones.

The letter, in answer to her own to her four friends, had arrived as she was leaving the day before and she had read it and re-read it in an attempt to convince herself that they did understand and that she had not blighted their lives.

Lucy cannot believe that you can turn down such a very handsome man, she says, but she defends your right to refuse him most stoutly. And Mama is all of a twitter because of the kind letter that your papa sent us, saying how he would miss you and hoping that we would continue to meet in your room to ‘continue our good work’ so he can benefit from our ‘young company’ in your absence. Is that not good of him?

The rumours and gossip are beginning to spread, but no one knows what to make of it because Mr Hoskins is telling everyone how he is going to help the Duke with his library. They are all going to be agog to see what happens on Sunday at church! No one is going to be listening to the sermon. They are all expecting your papa to be flourishing a shotgun at the Duke!

Do have a lovely time in London and try not to worry. It will all be a storm in a teacup, you wait and see...

Chapter Fourteen

‘My dear! How lovely to see you.’ Aunt Caroline swooped down the steps of the house in Bruton Street, arms outstretched, and enveloped Verity in a warm hug. ‘I couldn’t be happier that you have come to me and you are not to worry about a thing—we will make everything all right.’

‘I am sorry to have given you no notice, but it all seemed so difficult and then Papa had the idea of asking you to help and I have to confess, it was such a relief,’ she explained as Aunt Caroline ushered her up the steps and past the footmen waiting to collect the luggage.

‘The notice is of no account, my dear. Besides, I would have cancelled luncheon with the Queen for you if I had to. As it is, I will have your company and all the fun of launching you properly into society. With my poor brother’s illness you never did have the Season you deserved.’ She steered Verity into the drawing room. ‘Tea, Wethering.’ As the butler left she added, ‘Dinner in two hours and we dine at home. Now, you are in the Rose room as usual. I see you have brought a maid. Tell me quickly what our priorities must be while we drink our tea. Then you can go up and change and rest a little while I form a plan of campaign.’

‘Yes, of course, thank you,’ Verity agreed vaguely. She was tired suddenly, and her mind drifted back almost five years into the past.

This room... It had been painted a soft green with silver-grey details then and the picture over the fireplace had been a pastoral scene. There was a chaise in that corner and a screen that half-hid it and I was kissed there for the very first time.

‘Do you mind if we tell Gresham and Roderick everything, dear?’

‘Hmm?’ Verity pulled herself back to the present and tried to look as though she had been about to fall asleep. ‘I am sorry, Aunt. It was rather a tiring journey, I’m afraid.’

‘Stuff and nonsense. You are no more tired than I am and I do not wonder at it. With that luxurious travelling carriage, and a leisurely overnight stop at a most excellent inn, a young lady should be fit to dance all night. These country ways will not suit in London, you know. We have a great deal of work to do and much of it will take place in the evenings. Now, did you hear what I asked?’

‘About telling Uncle Gresham and Cousin Roderick. Of course they will have to know, I quite see that.’

‘Excellent. My son might pretend to be a rattlepate, but he’s bright enough and he’s fond of you. He’ll want to do his bit with the younger set. Gresham will pull a long face, but he will do his utmost.’ Her smile was wicked. ‘He knows the husbands of the Patronesses.’

Ah. That probably means he knows things about the husbands of the Patronesses which might persuade them to influence their wives in my favour...