by Archer, Kate
Kitty felt her heart skip a beat. Naturally, she knew of Lord Grayson’s reputation. She had even experienced his absurd flattery. But the conversation they’d had between them last evening had not been that.
“I am no fool,” Kitty said. “I would not be so silly as to fall for false compliments. But Lord Grayson has seemed to have ceased that ridiculous gambit. He did not try it with me last night. Our conversation was full of good sense. It was interesting and intelligent. I could not help but be charmed by the circumstance.”
Penny stared into her teacup. “He is more diabolical than I took him for,” she said quietly.
“Why do you say so?” Kitty asked.
Penny set her cup down. “I say so because he has modified his advances to suit you. Do not you see? He has realized that the stratagems he has employed with others will not work on you. So instead, he has changed his approach.”
Kitty felt as if her heart had hit the ground with a thud. Could that be true? Was it all just a game? Could she really have been such a fool?
If it were true, how he must laugh over it today! He would have seen that she was such in earnest, entirely taken in with this new ruse. If it were true, it would make him more than a rogue, it would make him a devil.
Could it be true? She did not know. She did not think so.
“But he even spoke of Shakespeare and quoted from him,” she said. “I was led to believe that possibly he was not entirely a dolt. He might be learned in his own way, though his interests differ from my own.”
“Oh yes, he often does throw Shakespeare around,” Penny said derisively. “I used to wonder if he kept quotes written down on slips of paper to be brought out when convenient. I remember a particularly tedious dinner when he went on and on about words in the trees and something in the water and everything in the forest.”
“From As you like it,” Kitty said softly.
“I suppose so. Kitty, do not be as foolish as I once was with Lord Cabot. Do not turn from someone who so well suits you.”
“Sir John,” Kitty said.
“Of course, Sir John,” Penny said. “I cannot express to you the wonder of marrying a man who is suited to you. It is everything, Kitty. Absolutely everything.”
Kitty nodded, though she was not certain she meant it. She was not certain of anything. Her opinion of Lord Grayson had changed so much in the last day and now it was to swing back in the other direction? It was like staring at a pendulum until one felt dizzy.
Had she been led down a merry path by a handsome rake? It was too ridiculous. Sensible Kitty Dell, of all people!
And then, she could not deny that her feelings were hurt by it. Did Lord Grayson have no regard for her whatsoever? He must not, if he would seek to draw her into one of his notorious flirtations. That he would risk that she would be gossiped about and pitied!
And yet, was he really so skilled that she could not detect the falsehood? Could someone that devious make such a silly mistake as Lord Grayson had made with the book he’d sent? That seemed incongruous.
Was Penny so ranged against the lord that she suspected him without merit?
Or worse, was she, herself, attempting to rationalize away Penny’s opinion for reasons she had not yet examined?
“All I say, my dear friend,” Penny said, squeezing her hand, “is be careful of Grayson. Very, very careful.”
*
Giles had dragged LaRue from his bed at an ungodly hour, determined to actually read one of his grandmother’s Christmas letters. The valet was all irritation and mumbled quite a lot of French. Giles was certain he’d been painted an ungrateful mongrel, though he pretended he did not comprehend it. LaRue dug through some trunks and found the still-sealed sheet.
Giles had torn it open and scanned it. It was pages and pages of people nobody knew. My God, if the count already had four sons, why must it be of note that he’d had a fifth? Why must he care that baron so-and-so’s daughter had married some fellow in Kristianstad? Oh, and here, he was to know that Count De la Gardie had married for a second time, wife number one having expired five years ago.
There were plenty of entries from England, too. Some he knew as relations and some he’d never heard of. None of it was interesting reading.
Well, he supposed his grandmother must spend her time some way. At least it gave him a convenient list of people to write to.
“LaRue,” he said, “creep down to Dalton’s library and steal all of his writing paper. And pen and ink. I shall write a letter, and then you will copy it dozens of times. This must be done at once.”
LaRue stared down his nose. “J’étais autrefois valet et maintenant je ne suis plus rien!”
“You know I do not understand half of that,” Giles said.
“I was valet, now I am nothing,” LaRue said. “No more than the clerk!”
“When you are finished copying letters,” Giles said drily, “you may be a valet once more. Now go!”
LaRue did go, though slamming the door as he went. Had the other inhabitants of the house not imbibed far too much wine the night before, they would all have awakened. As it was, Giles thought LaRue would be safe to make off with writing paper until at least noon.
A half hour later, Giles had written a letter begging his dear relations to forward anything they knew of either John Hill from the 1740s or ’50s, or Sir John Kullehamnd of lately. Any information would prove vital and no detail would be too small.
As LaRue started copying, and complaining in French all the while, Giles began to think of other methods of exposing Sir John as the fraud he must certainly be.
It would be convenient to hire an investigator, but hire him with what? He had not the funds. A bookshop or some creditor that did not understand precisely how penniless he was might extend him credit, but an investigator? No, they would demand a retainer, and a retainer he did not have.
He supposed he could sell off some of his coats.
No, he’d have to sell some of them as it was to keep Crackwilder in brandy and to pay for all these letters about to rain down on the continent. He could not sell all of his coats. Not yet, anyway.
He would have to be his own investigator. And LaRue could be his assistant. The valet would moan bitterly over it, but he would do it. What choice did the fellow have, anyway? Who else would put up with such a servant?
In any case, he’d made a good start. In the meantime, he and Dalton were to dine at Lord Milton’s this evening, and he had every hope of seeing Miss Dell there. Milton was friendly with her brother, and so certainly the sister would come?
That is what he hoped, anyway.
He would apprise her of the letters he was sending all over Europe. He could not yet accuse Sir John, he was astute enough to know that Miss Dell would dismiss that out of hand without solid evidence. However, he could claim he suspected a connection between John Hill and Veritas. He sought information about John Hill, as that fellow had been knighted by the Swedes or somebody else in that neighborhood, and God knew where else the man had hung his hat. That would show his interest and effort in the matter. In time, when he had the information he sought, he would condemn Sir John as being Veritas. Or knowing Veritas. Or in a cabal with Veritas.
For now, he must just be certain Miss Dell knew he was in earnest.
Chapter Nine
Kitty had found her thoughts going this way and that over Penny’s warnings. At one moment she was convinced that she’d been taken in by an expert scoundrel, and then the next minute questioning if it could be true that she was that gullible. Or that Lord Grayson could be that scheming.
By the afternoon, she had determined that she must know the truth. Penny had claimed that Lord Grayson quoted Shakespeare as a method, a means to impress. If that were so, he could not be intimately acquainted with all of the texts. He would only have collected a few phrases he might throw into a conversation.
She’d gone to her father’s library, found a selection of volumes, and taken them to her room. If Lo
rd Grayson was a fraud, he would not know the origin of the quotes she unearthed and planned to throw at him the next they met.
She felt hurried, as she thought she might meet him again this evening, though she could not be certain of it. She might have an equal chance of meeting Sir John. A dinner was to be hosted by Lord Milton. Kitty knew him to be a member of the society, but then she also knew him to be a member of the Jockey Club, having encountered him at Newmarket. Both Sir John and Lord Grayson may have been invited, or neither of them.
If Lord Grayson were to attend, she would discover the truth.
She had laid the volumes across the desk in her sitting room and took up Measure for Measure. She could not recall ever reading it and was certain it had not been done recently on the stage.
After flipping through the pages, she was more than certain. The plot was almost obscene and she certainly could not bring it up in a conversation. What an idea!
She moved on to Timon of Athens, Pericles, and Troilus and Cressida. If Lord Grayson were such an avid reader of Shakespeare, he would know them. If he’d merely written down some phrasings he found pleasing, he would not.
Kitty began reading Troilus and Cressida and promptly laid the book down. There on the page—Things won are done, joy’s soul lies in the doing. Lord Grayson had said that precise thing to Sir John. It might very well be a coincidence that she happened upon a phrase he had put in his pocket.
She would focus her attention on Timon of Athens and Pericles.
Some hours later, having listened to Lady Penderton’s advice on dining at Lord Milton’s table, Kitty and Frederick were in the carriage. According to Lady Penderton, Lord Milton’s footmen were over-attentive and would fill a person’s wine glass before it was half empty. Lord Milton thought it made for a jolly gathering. Lady Penderton said that was no doubt true, but she did not care to hear of any of her offspring having too jolly a time.
“Dalton will be there,” Frederick said, as the carriage rumbled over cobblestones, “and so I assume that means Grayson, too. I have heard those two are keen to attend any dinner that will have them as they don’t have a guinea between them.”
Kitty felt a little shiver at the mention of Lord Grayson. She scolded herself over it. She was not gullible and she had thoroughly prepared herself. If Lord Grayson’s spouting of Shakespeare had been a ploy, she would find it out. She had practically memorized Timon of Athens, tedious as it had been. And, if she unmasked Lord Grayson as a rogue, she would make sure he understood he’d been found out.
“And what of Sir John?” Kitty asked. “Will he attend?”
“Possibly,” Frederick said, “Milton finds him particularly intelligent.”
Kitty only nodded and peered out the carriage window, pretending an interest in the people on sidewalks as she passed them by. Penny’s words came back to her over and over—the wonder of marrying a man well-suited. Penny said it was everything, absolutely everything. Sir John was well-suited to her. He had everything to recommend him. She must keep that idea in her thoughts. It would be foolish to dismiss a man out of hand, only because he did not make her heart beat faster.
“Is it down to them, then?” Frederick asked. “Dandified Grayson or dry as toast Sir John?”
“Nothing is down to anything!” Kitty said, turning away from the window. “Why should you say so?”
Frederick shrugged. “Those seem to be your admirers. At least, the ones you’ve appeared to take an interest in. Why not Jost, though?”
Kitty could not help but laugh. “Frederick, Mr. Jost has only been introduced to me and barely said a word. He has not even bothered to secure me for a dance.”
“He is…reticent, is all. With ladies. He’s a fine fellow, though!”
“I am sure he is,” Kitty said, smiling. “Though I would not know.”
“All I say is, there are plenty of gentlemen you might consider.”
“I am not considering anyone at this moment,” Kitty said, not entirely sure that was true.
Blessedly, Frederick’s inquiries came to an end, as they had arrived at Lord Milton’s house. His pressing questions had discomposed Kitty. Surely she was not seen as preferring anyone? That could not be. She did not know her own mind, why should anybody else presume to know it?
She comforted herself with the idea that Frederick had launched the conversation to introduce the idea of Mr. Jost. He was Frederick’s oldest friend and according to her brother, a very amusing fellow. Kitty thought he must be one of those gentlemen who was comfortably loquacious in the company of his own sex, but mute in the vicinity of a female. Poor Mr. Jost had so far had absolutely nothing to say to her and she very much doubted he ever would.
*
Much to Dalton’s surprise, Giles had been ready to leave the house early rather than late. Though he would not tell Dalton for the world, he was intent on having a moment with Lady Milton to make any necessary adjustments to the seating arrangements at her table.
He had thought the conversation with his hostess would be smooth and quick. After all, was it not a usual thing that a single gentleman requested to be seated next to a particular single lady? At least, he had done it himself enough times. He had been more than surprised, irritated even, when he discovered from Lady Milton that Miss Dell was proving very popular. It seemed that two gentlemen had called earlier in the day to ask about the very same thing.
It was outrageous! Who were the scoundrels?
Lady Milton did not say, but drifted off to greet a recent arrival.
Giles had at least accomplished the second best—he would be seated across the table from Miss Dell. Milton’s table was not over-wide, not like some others where the distance rivaled the English Channel. Perhaps it would not be the most regular thing in the world, but he thought he would find his opportunities to speak to her across the divide.
This gain did come with a loss, though. He was to take in Miss Blessy. He must only comfort himself that there was to be no dancing. Miss Blessy could not go the wrong way while she was sitting in a chair. At least, he hoped not.
Giles had kept himself facing the drawing room door, waiting for Miss Dell’s arrival. He had barely noted the other guests arriving. Most of them he knew and he had already heard their most amusing stories many times over.
The one who had just come in, though, he did note. Sir John. Why should he be here? Giles was aware of Milton’s involvement in the Royal Society, but why should he be dragging in all sorts from his silly club?
He wondered if Sir John had been one of the gentlemen to call on Lady Milton earlier.
That devil!
*
Kitty entered Lady Milton’s drawing room and instantly noted both Lord Grayson and Sir John. Most alarming, both gentlemen seemed to be coming toward her with remarkable speed, as if they were in some sort of footrace.
“My God,” Frederick muttered next to her.
“Miss Dell,” Lord Grayson said, reaching her first. He nodded to Frederick. “Dell.”
Sir John was not a moment behind. “Miss Dell,” he said.
Lord Grayson shifted so that he was nearly standing in front of Sir John. “Miss Dell, I would wish to acquaint you with an investigative action I have taken to uncover Veritas.”
Kitty was taken aback. Had Penny been wrong, after all? She could not be certain, but it seemed extraordinary that Lord Grayson would have actually done anything to solve the mystery if it were just a trick to gain her attentions.
“Certainly, I would wish to hear of anything you have done regarding the matter,” Kitty said.
“We would all like to hear it,” Sir John said crossly.
“Keep to your own investigations,” Lord Grayson said over his shoulder. He held out his arm.
Kitty allowed herself to be led. If Lord Grayson had truly done something, she must know what it was.
To Lord Grayson’s apparent annoyance, Sir John followed at a discreet distance. It was the most absurd situation in the world. As
evidenced by Frederick’s raised eyebrows and smirk when Kitty glanced behind her.
Not wishing to call attention or in any way appear silly, Kitty said, “Lord Grayson, I am sure Sir John should hear of your endeavors as well. We must all work together, I think.”
Lord Grayson was less than gracious about it, but he did not absolutely refuse. Sir John joined them in their circle.
“If you will recall, Miss Dell,” Lord Grayson said, “all of this mystery springs from John Hill those many years ago. Whoever is Veritas seeks to call back to those days, perhaps as some sort of revenge. John Hill was knighted—Mr. Crackwilder thinks probably by the Swedes. I posit that he must have spent a significant amount of time there, and perhaps other places on the continent.”
“A logical leap, I think,” Kitty said, not entirely following wherever Lord Grayson was going.
“It occurred to me that Veritas must have some connection to John Hill. If not, why mention him at all? The note that was sent was not long, and yet he specifically links himself to John Hill.”
“I had not thought of that,” Kitty said softly. In truth, she had not given a moment to consider why or how the two might be connected. It was a clever suspicion and one that had merit.
“There must be a connection somehow,” Lord Grayson said.
“The connection is only in the idea of what John Hill represented,” Sir John said. “As was made clear in the letter.”
“If only there were a means of discovering if such a connection existed,” Kitty said, ignoring Sir John’s dubiousness.
“Though a connection surely does not exist,” Sir John said.
“I believe there is a way to discover it,” Lord Grayson said, as if Sir John had said nothing at all. “My grandmother is an ardent genealogist. She has kept contact with our distant relations, a fair number of them located in Sweden, Denmark, France, Portugal, and Spain. Of course, Sweden and Denmark would be of interest. If you see what I say.”