Chapter Four
“Anthony’s little girl? Good heavens. I can hardly believe my eyes.
The last time I saw you, you can’t have been more than eight years old, playing so happily with Robert at the Dower House.
” Josephine, Viscountess Somerton, extended a plump hand to take Verity’s, her eyes brimming with girlish excitement.
“I thought never to see you again, my dear. In fact, I suppose, if I considered it, I imagined you married to some foreign gentleman, an Italian count was my fancy, and bringing up a family in one of the capitals of Europe. Lost forever to we Farringtons. I must own that this is a quite wonderful surprise!”
A small, compact woman, a little reminiscent of a well-fed sparrow, Lady Somerton was probably in her late fifties.
Her hair, which must once have been as brown as her older son’s, had gone completely gray, but she had his soft brown eyes, or rather, he had inherited hers.
And now she was smiling in genuine welcome for her prodigal niece.
Verity heaved an inward sigh of relief. On the journey in the hackney coach Walter had summoned to take her to her aunt’s house in Fitzroy Square worry had nagged at her, despite her newly rediscovered cousin’s confidence that his aunt would welcome her with open arms. What if her aunt wanted nothing to do with her?
After all, her father had been, in his own words, the pariah of his family, and surely they would all view her in the same way.
Even if Walter were to vouch for her, as he assured her he would.
But her worries had been unfounded and pushed her anxiety to one side.
She would think about it later. Instead, she swept an elegant curtsey to the woman who was her aunt, Papa’s much-disliked older brother’s wife.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Somerton.” At least she’d met enough members of the European nobility to know how to behave when she met an English viscountess.
The fact that she had an aunt still hadn’t quite sunk in.
Of course, she’d known this family existed, mainly from Papa’s rants about them when in his cups, although that had not given her a good impression of them.
His descriptions, though, had been somewhat assuaged by her own vague memories of her happy childhood in the Dower House.
She still cherished fond memories of playing with the sickly Robert, and of distant views of his family at the big house.
However, all of that had receded during her travels with Papa, and, over the years, they’d become little more than dimly recalled fairy tales.
And now here she was, holding her aunt’s hand, soft and warm in her own and being regarded with such compassion and joy it brought tears stinging to her eyes.
She bit her lip to prevent those tears from falling.
Lady Somerton, her face suffused with pleasure, tugged Verity gently towards a large and opulently embroidered settee.
“Do sit down, my dear, and tell me all about yourself. It is a rare delight to welcome a long-lost relative back into the fold. I confess myself overcome with happiness to be able to do so. And let us not be formal with one another. You must call me Aunt Josephine, and I shall call you Verity. Such a lovely name, I’ve always thought.
You are my only niece, after all, and we must continue on first-name terms.”
Verity, a little overcome by such an effusive welcome, sat beside her aunt, who did not relinquish the hold she had on her hand.
Walter began to sidle towards the door, as if intending to effect an escape, a furtive expression on his face.
He was to be out of luck. His mother spotted him and wagged a warning finger.
“Nonsense, Walter. I won’t have you leaving so soon after your arrival.
Sit down. I insist. I see so very little of you as it is.
You are not to go sneaking off now you’ve brought me your little cousin.
I said sit.” That last command held pure steel.
Despite her dainty appearance and soft brown eyes, a core of determination ran through Verity’s aunt, and she seemed to know her son all too well.
Walter perched on the edge of a chair, looking sheepish and awkward and plainly wishing to be anywhere but here.
“Now,” his mother said, in tones that brooked no refusal. “Tell me how you came upon little Verity. I want to know everything.”
Walter, now resembling a schoolboy dragged before the headmaster, shot Verity an appealing glance. He didn’t seem to possess any improvisation skills to speak of, and the truth might be a little too much for his mother.
Feeling sorry for him, Verity came to his rescue.
“Cousin Walter came upon me by chance with my papa, whom he recognized.” Mostly true, apart from the second bit, as if Walter had done so last night, she wouldn’t be sitting here.
Despite having helped her father in his double dealing, she was an honest girl at heart, and the last thing she wanted to do was to be forced to lie to her aunt from the moment she met her.
She smiled at Walter in the hopes of reassuring him.
He was not, however, a good fellow conspirator, so she soldiered on alone.
“He very kindly suggested that I might like to reacquaint myself with the members of my family I have not seen for so many years.” She swallowed, hating the lie she was about to tell.
“My papa has business matters that need attending to, so I have come alone to pay my respects. My papa sends his apologies.”
If he was even awake yet, he most certainly would not have done this.
He’d never had anything good to say about his brother and his wife, nor his mother, the grandmother who had brought Verity up until she was nine.
She’d often wondered why he’d not at least been grateful for that, as Grandmama had done him the favor of caring for his only child for nine long years.
But he never had, and he clearly resented them all. A mystery.
Aunt Josephine’s expression betrayed the fact that she probably hadn’t believed that last bit, but it was the sort of polite half-truth that was acceptable in society.
Whatever she thought privately, she smiled sweetly.
“How very kind of your papa. And I’m grateful to him for it gives me more time to spend with my only niece. ”
“She needs a place to stay,” Walter put in, a little gruffly.
“I said she could stay here as you’d be quite the perfect chaperone.
She don’t have one, you see, and it ain’t right for a young lady like her to be gadding about Town by herself.
Hope you don’t object, Mater.” He paused, looking hunted.
“She’s engaged to be married, by the way.
” This came across as something of an afterthought.
His mother’s eyebrows rose, as well they might.
“She is? How delightful. Then of course she shall stay here with me, and I will be more than happy to be her chaperone. It’s so long now since your sister married, and her girls are as yet far too young to need my help.
” She fixed Walter with an enquiring expression.
“Tell me, Walter, to whom is she engaged?”
Verity, settling into this, and not in the least resenting being discussed without being asked for any input, regarded Walter in expectation. As he’d chosen to jump in with both feet, she was content to let him sort this out.
“Um, er, to Jonnie Dunster.”
An awkward silence filled the drawing room. Walter fidgeted on his seat looking as though he’d like to bolt. Verity waited for her aunt’s reaction to this news.
Aunt Josephine broke the silence. “To Dunster?” Her voice rose. “Are you certain you have that right? You can’t have misheard?” She looked at Verity. “You are engaged to the Earl of Dunster, child? Is that true?”
Well, not quite true. There’d been no actual proposal, as he’d not gone down on one knee and asked for her hand.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she found it ridiculous, and the more she didn’t think she truly could be engaged.
Not formally, at any rate. But for now, it might be best to say yes.
She sat up a bit straighter. “Yes, it is quite true.” She managed a smile.
“We have been promised to one another for a…while. And I am here in London for the marriage.” None of which was a lie, if you counted less than an hour as “a while,” and could get away with saying the marriage would be in London, which she was sure it would be.
But she didn’t like where this was leading.
She more than ever didn’t want to begin her new relationship with her aunt on a lie.
On top of that, all of this was what Walter and his precious Lord Dunster had decided, so she could hardly say anything different.
Well, what Walter had decided. Lord Dunster had been looking a bit stunned, if she was honest, when they’d left, much as she herself was.
Serve him right for gambling with an old drunk like Papa.
One of the high points of her morning so far had been leaving him looking as though someone had poleaxed him.
“Absolutely,” Walter said. “Engaged since they were children.” Which most definitely was a lie.
His mother raised an eloquent eyebrow. “Really?”
She didn’t sound at all as though she believed this.
“Not quite since they were children,” Walter amended, sounding panicky. “Bit of an exaggeration on my part. But a long time, anyway. A very long time.” He really was a terrible liar.
His mother sighed and turned to Verity. “That all sounds very nice, I’m sure. But my son takes me for an idiot all too often, and I think I would rather have the truth, as an idiot I am not. If you two don’t mind.”