A Rational Proposal (Furze House Irregulars Book 1)(10)
“Sit down and finish your egg, Charles, or it will spoil. Do be easy, I am not lost to all reason. I did not come alone. My maid is waiting in the hall.”
“The egg was spoiled before I started it and I have now lost what appetite I might have once had. I wonder your woman did not refuse to accompany you on such an improper errand.”
“Bridget is the most placid creature in the world. She would not dream of questioning me. Why do you eat food you do not enjoy?”
Charles lowered his voice. “Because it is a way of giving Hicks extra money for his mother and simpleton sister without offence. Verity, do please think. Do you want this six months to stretch to nine because of your foolhardiness?”
“Not in the least, which is why I am here rather than listening to Julia’s secondhand account of the masquerade her friends attended last week.”
From being infuriated by Verity, Charles now felt a bolt of terror run through his chest. “Masquerade?” he said, his voice sharp. “The one at Vauxhall she was teasing me to take her to? She did not go herself?”
Verity met his eyes. “She did not, but unless your father and eldest brother modify their relentless criticism of Lieutenant Crisp, there is no saying she might not go another time.”
“Lieutenant Crisp! He may be a lieutenant, but he has no social graces and gives the impression of being an untried puppy. He is the worst possible choice for Julia.”
“Hardly untried if he has seen action. This is unlike you, Charles. You are in general fair-minded. How many times have you met him?”
“My father dislikes the crowd he runs with. Julia needs a strong partner in life, not a weak one.”
“You do not think her capable of discovering this for herself? Opposition without explanation is likely to make her more predisposed towards a suitor, rather than less.”
“It is because she is a daughter, not a son. My father was willing enough to let the rest of us make our own mistakes. You must admit a lady’s error is likely to have a more profound effect on her future happiness than a gentleman’s is.”
Verity nodded. “There is truth in that, which is why it is even more important to be told why a match is bad.”
“You will see it for yourself when you are in company with the fellow. I cannot think what Julia is about.” He was struck by an idea. “Turning her thoughts in a better direction would be a rational use of your time.”
The room became suddenly icy. “Poorly done, Charles. Should I find the lieutenant unsuitable, I will naturally share my reservations with Julia for fear of future misery on her part. I do not need your commendation so to do.”
Charles was taken aback at the amount of reproof Verity infused into her tone, the more so because he had known as soon as the words left his mouth that he shouldn’t be asking. “My apologies. That was unworthy on my part.”
She looked at him for a moment. “Accepted. I will continue to treat Julia in every way as a sister, just as I always have done, but it is not what I am here for on this occasion, Charles.”
He stood up and held his hand out to her. “And this is why you should never disturb a man before his first pot of coffee. May we strike a deal, Verity? Will you return to Grosvenor Street, spend the day with Julia and let me make arrangements about other matters? Tomorrow I will conduct you to my chambers to meet with Scrivener, the enquiry agent I mentioned.”
Verity smiled at him and rose to her feet. “I will. And the scientific lectures?”
“We will call at the Royal Society and I will put your name down for them.”
“Thank you, Charles. You had best finish dressing. Though I must say I do like that robe. It is in every way splendid. I thoroughly approve.”
Charles looked down, startled. He had forgotten he had not yet completed his morning preparations. And now she had seen him in his crimson brocade dressing gown. “Verity, I...”
But she was already walking briskly down the passage. “Come, Bridget, we are returning to Miss Julia. Ah, Hicks, a hackney to Grosvenor Street by way of Grafton House, if you please.” She raised her voice. “Mourning gloves, Charles, nothing frivolous, I promise you.”
Charles watched from the window until he had the evidence of his own eyes that she was being driven away from the Albany, upon which he allowed himself to breathe again. This, he thought, was going to be a very long six months.
That being the case, it made it all the more puzzling that he should find himself whistling as he abandoned the wreck of his breakfast table and made ready for Middle Temple and his chambers.
Verity returned to Grosvenor Street much invigorated by a passage of arms with a shopman who claimed to be keeping the last pair of slim-fitting black gloves for another customer and who was thus mistakenly proposing to charge her extra for a instant sale rather than her having to wait until the middle of the week for the new stock. So far, the day had proved most satisfactory.
“You look disgustingly healthy, Verity, especially this hour in the morning. I do hope none of our friends observed you. Did you get your gloves?”
Verity grinned at her friend, arrayed languidly at the breakfast table with both their mamas. “Good morning, Julia. Yes, I did, but in my triumph I forgot black-bordered handkerchiefs so I shall have to go again.” Despite her airy assurances to Charles, Verity knew perfectly well early morning calls to gentlemen weren’t the done thing, so had made shopping her excuse for being out betimes. It was safe enough, because she had had no expectation that Charles would actually take her to his place of work this morning. Her object had simply been to make it clear she was in earnest about her desire to spend time in a rational manner, preferably before he heard about the waltz-practice party at the Heywards this afternoon. She’d hoped he would be so unnerved he would straight away set about finding Kitty and, as it appeared she had been successful, this left the rest of the day to apply herself to her friend’s affairs.