by Gayle Buck
Lord Rathbone’s attention was claimed by a hail from Verity’s brother. With a word, the viscount left her and went over to meet with Sir Charles.
Lady Rathbone swept up to Verity. “Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”
Verity gave a polite smile. “It is a delightful soiree, ma’am.”
Lady Rathbone gave vent to a throaty laugh. “What a poor liar you are, Verity. They are a bunch of quizzes and fools. You will understand now why I said that you would meet a number of personages that will not later come in your way. My son and I are quite divorced from mingling with either Forde’s or Bastion’s families. However, I did wish you to meet them this once.”
“I suppose that I must thank you, my lady,” said Verity. “Certainly it has been an interesting evening. If Lord Rathbone does not care for their company, I must make it an object to abide by his wishes.”
“No, my son does not care for their company. Nor do I,” said Lady Rathbone, somewhat harshly. Her keen gaze raked the gathering. “They none of them mean a single word of the civilities that they have mouthed this night. My son and I are not liked by this bunch. And because you are to wed my son, their dislike spills over onto you as well. You will not find it an onerous task to reject any encroachments, believe me.”
Verity did not know what to say. She was grateful when her brother and Lord Rathbone joined her and Lady Rathbone. “Charles, I am glad to see you. I had hoped to enjoy another set with you. For an old soldier you do very well for yourself on the floor.”
“I shall leave you to it, my dear,” said Lady Rathbone, preparing to turn away.
“Pray do not abandon us so quickly, my lady. I should like you to hear the question I wish to put to my sister,” said Sir Charles.
Lady Rathbone’s brows rose. She glanced from Sir Charles to her son’s closed face. Her gaze sharpened. “Of course, Sir Charles. You naturally command my full attention.”
Verity cast a hasty glance up at the viscount’s face. There was something in his expression that could not be defined. Turning to her brother with a prescience of trouble, she asked, “What is it, Charles?”
“I have just spoken to Lord Rathbone. He has agreed to a wedding date three weeks from today. Is that not correct, my lord?” said Sir Charles.
Lord Rathbone shrugged. “It is all one to me. As I told you, I shall agree if Miss Worth has no objections.”
Sir Charles commandeered his sister’s hand. “Verity, I think that I can persuade our mother to remain in London at least for that long. An early date will mean that she will not have to travel up again for a later wedding. You know how she detests leaving Crofthouse. It would mean, too, that she would not fret over wedding preparations during the holiday. You will not wish to put our mother through such anxiety, Verity.”
“Of course I do not,” said Verity, completely taken aback. “But it is so soon!”
She felt herself to be all at once in a stormy sea. Her brother’s grip was compelling; she knew what he demanded of her. Her eyes sought and found Lord Rathbone’s, but there was no help for her there. The viscount’s gaze was shuttered.
Lady Rathbone wore a pleased smile. Her eyes glinted. “It is soon, of course. But I applaud Sir Charles’s desire to make it as painless as possible for all concerned. I believe that your great-aunt would not otherwise be persuaded to attend, for the dear lady confided in me not two minutes ago that London is nothing like what she recalled and she was not going to set foot in town again for the remainder of her days.”
Verity was diverted for an instant. “Yes, that sounds very like Great-aunt Mary,” she agreed with a laugh.
“Then it is settled,” said Lady Rathbone firmly. “We shall send a notice to the Gazette tomorrow, naturally. However, I should like to make the announcement tonight amongst all the family.”
“Of course. What could be more appropriate or more satisfying?” murmured Lord Rathbone sardonically.
Verity looked quickly up at him, catching the hint of bitterness in his words but not understanding the reason for it. But he did not glance down at her. His attention was focused on Lady Rathbone as she signalled the butler to call for silence.
When all of the gathering was stilled and had turned inquiring faces toward her ladyship, Lady Rathbone said, “I wish to convey the gladdest of tidings to my friends and family. As you all are aware, my son is betrothed to Miss Worth. Tonight a wedding date has been set. I am happy to announce that I shall be able to address Verity as my daughter-in-law in truth three weeks from this very night!”
The company broke into surprised exclamations and laughter. Friends of both the viscount and his intended came forward to congratulate them. Verity was surrounded by her own family. A toast was called for and the suggestion was swiftly taken up.
Verity noticed that of all the Sandidges, only Lord Rathbone’s cousin Philip offered uninhibited felicitations. Even as she noticed that, she chanced to catch sight of Lady Rathbone’s face. Verity was startled by the raw emotion in the lady’s expression.
Lady Rathbone was staring at her brother-in-law, Bastion Sandidge. There was triumph on her face. She slowly lifted her wineglass, toasting him, then deliberately she drained it.
Bastion Sandidge turned sharply on his heel and strode out of the ballroom. His leaving was the signal for a mass exodus of Sandidges.
With the end of the soiree, Verity returned to the Arnolds’ completely exhausted. It had been a difficult evening, full of hidden emotions and contrasts. Verity herself had had to keep up a smiling front for her own family and her well-wishers, while her heart ached for what might have been. How different everything would have been if Lord Rathbone had actually cared for her.
Mr. Arnold departed at first light the morning following the soiree. Sir Charles Worth did not breakfast at the Arnolds’ but went out to his club. Mrs. Arnold and Verity did not rise from their respective beds until nearly eleven o’clock. They met in the breakfast room, neither ascribing to the fashionable habit of taking morning chocolate and biscuits in bed.
Verity was heavy-eyed. Without appetite, she merely picked at her selection from the sideboard. After one comprehending glance, Mrs. Arnold poured a second cup of coffee for her. “Perhaps this will help, my dear. You do not look at all the thing this morning.”
Verity covered an unexpected yawn with her hand. Apologizing, she said, “I am sorry, Betsy. I did not rest well.”
“I do not wonder at it. We have been going the pace of late,” said Mrs. Arnold.
Verity did not bother to reply. They both knew it was not a frenzy of social engagements and shopping that had worn Verity down. But there was little point in discussing what could not be changed.
The footman entered. As he handed a folded note to Verity, he said, “This was just brought for you, miss. A carriage is awaiting your convenience.”
“A carriage? Verity, what is it about?” asked Mrs. Arnold.
Verity had read the note. She looked up, frowning. “The note is supposedly from my mother. I do not recognize the hand, however. It says that she requires me to come to her at once.”
“How very odd!”
“Yes. I cannot imagine Mama sending for me through another’s offices.” Verity’s expression altered suddenly. “Unless my great-aunt has been taken ill. Mama would not leave her in that instance, and she might very well direct a note to be written for her.”
Verity rose from the table. “I must go at once. Mama would not be so very cryptic, nor would she send a carriage for me, if there was not an appalling crisis!”
“Of course you must go,” said Mrs. Arnold, rising also. She walked with Verity out of the breakfast room, followed by the footman. “I shall make your excuses to any who might call and I will cancel those appointments that we had for today.”
“Thank you, Betsy. I shall go up now to put on my bonnet,” said Verity. “Will you have the driver informed, please?”
“Of course.”
As V
erity hurried up the stairs, Mrs. Arnold told the footman to notify Lady Worth’s driver that it would be a few minutes before Miss Worth was ready.
“At once, ma’am. But I should perhaps mention that it is not Lady Worth’s driver or carriage, but a hired vehicle,” said the footman.
Mrs. Arnold raised her brows, entering into her servant’s mild surprise. “How extraordinary. I expect that there is a logical explanation, however.” The footman agreed, still disapproving of the circumstances, and went off to speak to the driver.
Shortly thereafter, Verity returned downstairs. She had put on her bonnet and an outer pelisse over her dress. Her slippers had been replaced by kid boots. A large muff hung from her arm. She was engaged in pulling on her second glove as she reached Mrs. Arnold. “I do not know how long I shall be, Betsy. I shall send word to you just as quick as I can.”
Mrs. Arnold assured Verity that she need not concern herself with anything. She accompanied Verity out-of-doors and saw her into the carriage. “I shall see to everything on this end, my dear. Convey my regards to Lady Worth and my sincere hope that all will be well.”
Verity waved, the carriage started away from the curb, and Mrs. Arnold returned shivering to the warmth of her town house. Mrs. Arnold’s mind was already busy with the altered plans for the day.
Late that afternoon, Mrs. Arnold was surprised when Lady Worth was ushered into her drawing room. After greeting her ladyship affectionately, she said, “I hope that Mrs. Moffet is well?”
“Oh yes, she has never been better other than a twinge of the gout,” said Lady Worth cheerfully. “I had hoped to catch you and Verity both in, Mrs. Arnold, for I wished to beg your company to the shops. I do so enjoy having someone with me when I go out.”
Mrs. Arnold stared at her ladyship, disregarding most of this speech. “But is Verity not with you?”
Lady Worth looked her surprise. “No, why should she be?”
Mrs. Arnold’s face drained of color. “Oh, my God.”
* * *
Chapter 26
“I have been abducted.” Verity said the words out loud, but still it seemed so unreal.
While in the carriage, preoccupied and anxious over what she had accepted as her mother’s message, it had not immediately dawned on her that she had been riding for more minutes than the short trip should have taken. Glancing out of the window, she had been appalled to discover that the teeming streets of London were giving way to less-frequented byways.
She had rapped and raised her voice to catch the driver’s attention, but to no avail. Then she had tried to open the doors, but they had been locked from the outside.
Verity had known panic and fear then, but there had been nothing she could do but watch the city environs disappear as the carriage carried her into the winter countryside.
Her destination had proved to be no great distance from London, but the estate was not one with which she was familiar and so she still had no inkling of the identity of her captor. The carriage had stopped, and then she had suffered the indignity of having a scratchy woolen cloak thrown over her head. Helpless, she had been carried up several flights of stairs before being dumped gracelessly in her present prison.
It seemed incredible. She had been abducted, but for what purpose she had no notion. She knew, however, that she was very much afraid.
Shivering, Verity crossed her arms. Running her hands up and down her arms, she stepped to the cold window. It was a dizzying view. The barren ground was three stories below her vantage point. There would be no escape that way. If she was to leave the attic garret, it would only be at her abductor’s pleasure.
The sound of a key grating in the lock spun her around. She stared at the door, fright pumping her heart to a fast cadence.
The door opened. A burly serving man in a livery unknown to her stood in the doorway. “The master’s compliments, miss, and he requests that you join him in the drawing room.”
The incongruity of the polite phrasing struck her. But it was illogically reassuring as well. It was something familiar in a most bizarre situation. Verity raised her chin. Stiffening her spine, she said coldly, “Thank you. I shall come at once.”
Verity walked across the small, cramped room and through the door. In the narrow hall, she paused and looked an inquiry at the footman. The man bowed and guided her through twisting halls and down two levels to the first floor.
The footman led her across a parquet floor. Throwing open a door, he announced, “Miss Worth, sir.” With a polite gesture, he invited Verity to pass through the doorway.
Verity entered into what proved to be a drawing room. She had a fleeting impression of a well-proportioned room furnished in an old-fashioned style, but her attention almost instantly focused on those who awaited her. With shock, she recognized all but one. Verity controlled her expression with difficulty.
Three of the gentlemen had risen in civil deference to her entrance. The last remained seated in his wheeled chair, a rug cast over his knees and a cane clasped in his withered hands.
“Miss Worth, we have been waiting for you. Pray come in and join us,” said Bastion Sandidge. “It is cold. You will no doubt like a chair next to the fire. Philip, pray set a chair for our guest.”
Once more Verity was struck by the outrageous contrast between her actual circumstances and the polite observances. She had been brought to this house against her will and had remained under lock and key in an attic garret until this moment.
It was ridiculous to suppose that such civil addresses negated the undoubted criminality of her present company but, nevertheless, Verity felt somewhat reassured by the lack of overt brutality. In fact, the irony was so striking that it caused a glint of amusement to enter her eyes. She was therefore able to react with a collected air quite at variance with her former deep apprehension.
Verity inclined her head and walked over to take the chair that Philip had arranged for her. Quietly she thanked him, noticing that he avoided meeting her eyes. He bowed and moved away to stand in front of the mantel.
Verity turned her gaze on the entire company. “Gentlemen.” Her tone expressed just the right shade of doubt for the aptness of the term.
Philip flushed. He turned away abruptly to claim a wineglass that was sitting on the mantel. With a twist of his wrist, he tossed down the contents.
His obvious discomfiture was ignored by the rest of the gentlemen. The elderly one in the wheeled chair stared at Verity from under bushy brows. It could be seen that at one time he had been a powerful man, but now the massive shoulders were sunken forward and the hand that rested on top of the cane showed both age and disease in its malformation. “You are very cool, miss,” he remarked, almost disapprovingly.
“Perhaps a bout of screaming hysterics would be more to your taste, sir?” inquired Verity, raising her slim brows.
“No, by God!” exclaimed Philip. He looked her full in the face then. His mouth was taut. “Forgive me, Miss Worth. I had not meant to have a hand in this. You must believe that.”
“Must I? Surely you will admit that circumstances argue against you,” said Verity quietly. As she looked at him the dull flush once more surged upward over his sharply defined cheekbones.
“My son is uncomfortable in his unaccustomed role of villain, Miss Worth. His scruples are much nicer than mine,” said Bastion Sandidge, smiling. “You must naturally have many questions, which of course we shall do our best to satisfy. You have made the acquaintance of my nephew, Harold, but I do not believe that you have previously met my brother, Forde Sandidge.”
“No, that distinction was not mine. Under other circumstances perhaps the introduction would have been met with pleasure. You will, I know, understand my reservations upon this occasion, Mr. Sandidge,” said Verity.
“Damned biting tongue you have, gel. Don’t know that I care for it,” said Forde Sandidge, scowling.
Bastion Sandidge laughed. “You have become too isolated, brot
her. Society has changed since your day. The ladies are more forthcoming than they were in our youth. Miss Worth has just delivered a civil setdown with what I might say is admirable aplomb given her awkward situation. She is obviously a young woman of considerable force of character.”
“Somehow I am not astonished. Our dear thrice-damned viscount would scarcely choose someone who was not up to his weight,” murmured Harold Sandidge, for the first time breaking his silence. He seated himself and thoughtfully regarded the cut of his boots.
“True enough. George has proven his mettle more than once,” said Philip with almost a shade of defiance.
Bastion Sandidge’s complacent smile thinned. He shot a withering stare at his son. Philip hunched a shoulder and turned his gaze to the fire in the grate. Bastion Sandidge returned his attention to Verity and his smile reappeared. “Now, Miss Worth. We have requested that you join us for a particular purpose. We wished you to have a fuller understanding of the situation and the history behind it. No doubt you have been regaled with tales. It is only proper that you should be made aware of our side of the story.”
“My uncle is subtly offering justification for the attack against your person,” said Harold indifferently. He did not glance at Verity, but continued to contemplate the highly polished toe of his boot.
“That will be enough, sirruh!” exclaimed Forde Sandidge wrathfully, rapping his cane on the floor. “You will keep a civil tongue in your head or you will see how sharply that neat independence I make you can be turned about.”
Harold brushed an unseen fleck of dust from his sleeve. “Forgive me, dear father. I forgot myself for a moment. As you were saying, uncle?”
“Perhaps I should apply first to Miss Worth. You undoubtedly have an opinion of our family. I should like to hear it, so that I may better explain matters,” said Bastion Sandidge.