Verity turned abruptly. ‘Logic.’
‘Miss?’ The maid, side-stepping to avoid running into her, blinked in confusion.
‘Nothing. I’m sorry, I was talking to myself.’
You pride yourself on your intellect, so think logically. Firstly, you love Will, but he does not love you. Therefore, secondly, you are not going to marry him. Thirdly, his good name is more important than any shame your own bad judgement brings down on you, therefore, fourthly, you must tell him about Thomas Harrington and, somehow, stop him calling the man out.
Things were bad enough without that.
Fifthly: and then tell Papa.
Clarity, she was almost surprised to discover, did not make the prospect in front of her any easier. If you dreamed there was a monster in the dark of your bedchamber, and you lit a candle and discovered that there really was something with fangs in the wardrobe...
‘Molly.’ She waited for the maid to catch up. ‘We are going home now.’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘And after breakfast I will change into my new walking dress and pelisse. I will be paying a call.’ Not that looking her best was going to be the slightest help in the interview ahead of her.
‘Yes, miss.’
‘And I will require you to come with me.’ Visiting a gentleman’s home alone, or with a maid, was outrageous. But what was one more social transgression on the negative side of the scales weighing her reputation?
* * *
‘There is a young lady to see you, Your Grace.’
Will looked up from the papers he and Fitcham had spread out before them and saw his secretary’s startled expression. He probably looked as disconcerted. ‘A young lady, at this hour, alone?’
‘With her maid, Your Grace. She declined to give me a card.’
There was only one young lady so reckless as to call on a man in broad daylight in the heart of fashionable London. At least Verity had retained discretion enough not to hand over a card for the servants to read. ‘Where is she? You did not leave her on the doorstep?’
The footman’s lips tightened, as near to a retort as a well-trained servant would go.
‘No, of course you didn’t. Is she veiled?’
‘Yes, Your Grace. I have asked the young lady to sit in the Painted Room, with her maid.’
‘Thank you. Tell her that I will be with her directly.’
‘Small mercies,’ he said to Fitcham as the door closed behind the man. ‘A maid and a veil. I can only pray that she did not arrive in her aunt’s carriage with the crest on the doors.’
‘Miss Wi— Er...the young lady must have a matter of some urgency.’ Fitcham tapped one bony finger on the open atlas in front of him. ‘Surely the gentleman whose future we are arranging has not made a move already?’
‘I sincerely hope not,’ Will said as he went out. What was he going to do with Verity? How was he going to keep her safe if she did these reckless things? Medieval visions of banishing awkward females to locked towers occurred to him. Tempting...
Verity stood up as he opened the door, as did the little dab of a female sitting in the corner. Much good she would be if anyone offered her mistress any insult or threat—she wouldn’t be able to deal with a six-year-old pickpocket, let alone some buck on the prowl.
‘Your maid can wait outside.’ Will held the door open and the girl, after one glance at her mistress, scuttled out. He closed it with a c
ertain emphasis and was annoyed that Verity did not so much as start nervously. ‘What in blazes are you doing here?’ And what in blazes had happened to his manners? Was this what love did to you—reduced a gentleman to some sort of primitive?
‘Good morning to you, too, Your Grace.’ Verity dipped a mocking curtsy as she flipped back her veil. She looked as though she had not slept for days, he thought. There were dark shadows under her eyes, despite some expert powdering. Her poise seemed to be maintained through tense muscles, not natural grace, and her voice had a brittle edge.
‘You look ill,’ Will said. He wanted to hold her, kiss her until she forgot how tired and anxious she was, tell her he loved her. ‘Verity, there is something—’
Her chin came up. ‘You certainly know how to make a woman feel special. I apologise if I have dragged you away from some riveting entertainment.’