Chapter 12 #3
“It is kind of you to offer,” she said gently when she realized that Kingham was looking at her expectantly, awaiting her response.
“However, I do believe that the task of defending my honor is reserved for my brother, should it be required. It would be most unseemly for you to thrash anyone on my behalf.”
An imperious brow rose. “Are you defending him, my lady?”
“No.” Her voice wobbled. “I cannot, for he is dead.”
The duke stared at her for a moment. “How surprising, you’ve resorted to murder. I confess, I didn’t think you had it in you. What was your weapon? A blade? A pistol, perhaps?”
A hysterical laugh escaped her, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle it.
“No?” Kingham continued. “Something far more Machiavellian, then. Poison?”
She removed her hand. “He died ten years ago.”
“Ah.” The duke clasped his hands behind his back and considered her as if she were newly placed before him. “These are old tears.”
Verity swallowed hard, struggling to maintain her composure. “Yes.”
“The insult he paid you must have been tremendous, for you to be weeping all this time later—and at a ball, no less.”
She dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief again, thinking that he was being deliberately obtuse. Whether it was an attempt to cheer her or he was merely amusing himself, she couldn’t be sure.
“He never insulted me. He was my betrothed.”
“Did he have a name?”
“Leo.” She sniffed. “Lord Leopold Douglas. He was the second son of the—”
“Duke of Morgan. Yes, I did know him,” Kingham intervened, frowning. “A pleasant fellow if I recall correctly, though quite a bit younger than I, given my ancient years.”
He hardly looked ancient to her.
“How old are you?”
“Four-and-thirty.” He brushed at his coat sleeve lightly. “You see? Terribly old.”
“You are only six years older than I am,” she pointed out. “I don’t think myself particularly wizened just yet.”
Kingham studied her somberly. “And so you aren’t, Lady Verity. Which is why hiding yourself in this alcove is such a crime.”
She snorted—indelicately, but what did it matter when she’d already used his handkerchief to wipe her nose?
It wasn’t as if she were aiming her cap at the Duke of Kingham.
Her heart would forever belong to Leo. And besides, nearly all the ladies in London were regularly swooning over Kingham.
With his choice of anyone, he most certainly would never settle upon someone like her.
“In such a crush, I scarcely think I shall be missed,” she demurred lightly, grateful for the distraction he presented.
“But how am I to leave you here, now that I know it’s where you’ve chosen to roost?”
“You make me sound as if I am a nesting hen.”
“Forgive me for my lack of polish.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, for Kingham’s polish was quite legendary. He could charm the sternest, steel-willed dowager into doing anything he wished.
“You are forgiven, of course,” she allowed. “Would you like your handkerchief back, Your Grace?”
She was finished with it now, her tears dried for the moment, thanks to his interruption. He was rather like the sun, parting the clouds after a particularly lashing rain, restoring the brilliance to the skies, shining light and warmth.
He eyed it as if she were extending a boot that had just trampled a pile of horse dung. “I think it should be yours now. Only think of how easy it shall be, should you need one again.”
“Thank you.”
She tucked it into her bodice in quite indiscreet fashion, but what else was she to do, cornered in this alcove with him?
“My pleasure,” he said gallantly, his eyes falling briefly to her decolletage before rising back to hers.
“Now that the matter of the handkerchief is settled, our next conundrum is this that you are still tucked away in this damnable alcove when you ought to be in the ballroom, flitting about like a butterfly.”
“First a hen and now a butterfly? I cannot decide if you pay me insult or compliment, Kingham.”
His lips twitched, and for the first time, she noticed how finely formed they were, sculpted and full. “The latter, of course. I would never dream of paying you insult, Lady Verity.”
“I suppose not. You’re far too much of a gentleman.”
He chuckled and extended his arm to her. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, my dear. Will you not accompany me back to the ball? It’s only fair that you cease depriving the gathering of your presence.”
She eyed his arm. “I don’t know…”
“There is also the matter of your brother and your mother,” he pressed. “I would imagine they are both looking for you and wondering where you have gone. It would ease their minds if you emerged from hiding.”
She hesitated, thinking of what he had said. Maman and Riverdale would likely indeed be wondering at where she had gone. She didn’t want either of them to worry. Then there was also her new sister-in-law, the duchess. It was most unsporting of Verity to keep herself from the ball in Sybil’s honor.
“Come now, Lady Verity,” Kingham coaxed. “I don’t bite.”
She settled her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Very well.”
“Unless I’m asked to in very polite fashion,” he added with a flawless grin.
Verity allowed him to escort her from the alcove, wondering just what she’d managed to get herself into.