His townhouse in Grosvenor Square had, naturally, been ready to receive him even though there had been no time to send ahead. It did no harm to keep the staff on their toes in case they began to be complacent and think his standards were lower than his grandfather’s had been, he had thought as he handed Gustav, the butler, his hat and gloves.
The footman he had sent out to discover what engagements the ladies from Bruton Street had accepted returned within the hour with the information that had brought him here to Lady Notting’s musicale. Convenient that she was his godmother, but he sincerely doubted that he would have been unwelcome wherever he had turned up.
Will looked around as he sipped his champagne. The company in this room was rather livelier, perhaps because the number of footmen with trays of drinks seemed more numerous here or perhaps because the strains of the string quartet were penetrating more loudly which made everyone speak up.
After a while his ears became used to the noise and he began to pick up conversations. There was no sign of Verity or her aunt, which was perhaps why he could hear nothing about her, he thought. Then Lady Marchmont turned from a cluster of matrons in the opposite corner, saw him, raised both eyeglass and eyebrows and favoured him with a stiff inclination of her head. Will responded with a bow. Colour high, she turned back and all the ladies in her group glanced in his direction. Will bowed again and strolled away.
Interesting. They had heard the gossip, clearly. But where was Miss Wingate? Or had they run her off already with their sharp tongues?
Over in the far corner a group of younger men were clustered around one of the window seats. The object of their attention must be sitting down, because Will could not see what was amusing them so, but then he heard a peal of laughter and knew. Verity was in the middle of whatever was going on. He strolled up to the group and listened, relieved that she sounded happy and that she had found some friends, at least. Although he would have preferred respectable matrons to young bucks.
‘Miss Wingate, you are teasing us! I cannot believe that such a catalogue of disasters could have happened,’ one gentleman protested.
‘But I assure you, every word is true,’ Verity said earnestly. ‘The church doors were open because of the heat, the choristers were right in the middle of rehearsing a new anthem and a swarm of bees from Widow Fawcett’s hives encountered Farmer Partington’s herd of pigs being moved from one field to another. The pigs stampeded, followed by the bees, right into the church, upset the buckets of flowers that the ladies were arranging for Sunday and Mr Partington’s prize sow was last seen careering across the village green with a garland of roses around her neck. The choir boys were stung, the organist fainted and Mrs Norris refused to do the flowers again.’
‘I had no idea life in the country was so entertaining.’ That was Viscount Sedgley, one of the worst flirts in London in Will’s opinion.
‘It often is,’ Verity said. ‘I expect it is because everyone mixes so much more.’
‘But you are not so enamoured of it that you are going to rush back to your village and abandon us, are you, Miss Wingate?’ The Viscount’s voice had become a deep purr.
‘I do not know, Lord Sedgley.’ Verity gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. ‘It all depends on how diverting I find London.’
Sedgley was clearly expected to read that as an invitation to help her find entertainment. Will, admiring the technique but far from amused, stepped forward. That was dangerous and it would be fatal for her prospects if she was thought to be fast.
As he thought it, one wag said, with a laugh, ‘How about boating on the lake, Miss Wingate?’
Will touched the man in front of him on the shoulder and moved into the gap as Verity said, ‘Now that is very unkind, sir. As if I have not already been given a dislike of lakes after those impossible children stranded me on an island!’ Her laugh was a little shaky now.
‘You and Ayl—’ the man began, then saw Will and melted back into the crowd with a muttered, ‘Oh, hell.’
‘Miss Wingate. How charming to meet a neighbour so far from home. I trust I find you well?’
She was pale, although smiling bravely. When she saw him all the remaining colour fled. He put out one hand, ready to catch her if she fainted, but Verity stood and dipped a curtsy, an exaggerated acknowledgement of his rank in the circumstances. ‘Your Grace. I am very well, thank you. And, as you say, it’s so delightful to meet and so unexpected.’ Will was conscious of the rest of the group, their attention riveted on the interaction and on Verity’s pale cheeks.
‘I had unexpected urgent business in town. I hope I may call on you—you are staying with Lady Fairlie, I imagine?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she said, her colour coming back and her eyes sending him a message he had no trouble interpreting. She resented him coming to town, thought he was making things even more difficult for her. If she was falling into company with the likes of Sedgley she was making complications all of her own. ‘I am sure my aunt will be delighted to receive you.’
But you will not.
‘I am the bearer of the abject apologies of my scapegrace siblings, who are smarting under their various punishments,’ he said lightly. If they spoke of what had happened on the lake openly it could only help to establish her innocence.
‘I do hope they are not punished too severely, Your Grace. It was youthful high spirits, not malice, as I observed to Her Majesty only this afternoon.’
That was a well-placed bombshell, Will thought appreciatively as a whisper of speculation ran round the group. Lady Fairlie was a skilled player.
Verity was learning fast, too, he realised. Just when the interest in the two of them was becoming oppressive she turned back to Sedgley. ‘What do you think I might find diverting, my lord? My aunt is threatening me with a positively tyrannous schedule of shopping and fittings. My entire wardrobe is too provincial for words, apparently and I long for escape.’
‘A drive in the park, perhaps, Miss Wingate?’
‘Not behind your famous matched greys, Lord Sedgley?’
‘But of course, Miss Wingate. Nothing else would be worthy of you.’
Now how did you hear about those? Will wondered, trampling
firmly on the instinct to rush off to Tatt’s the next morning and buy an even more spectacular pair to put the Viscount’s nose out of joint. Surely Verity was not trying to provoke him into showing possessiveness, or, worse, jealousy? She was going to be sorely disappointed if that was the case.