never been able to chatter on about nothing in particular the way her sister and her niece did.
When Lord Sherington finally deposited her on her doorstep, it seemed but a foretaste of what was to come. He had revealed to her something of his past, and now she understood the reasons for the hunger she had seen in his eyes. Unfortunately, despite his insistence that she was a strong person, she knew she was not woman enough to fill the empty places in his heart.
Now, watching him drive away, she felt as if he had stolen the very soul from her body, but she doubted if he was even thinking about her.
And as always when he left her, her first thought was to wonder if she would ever see him again. This time the pain was already starting, because even though she had waited, hoping he would suggest another morning drive, he had made no mention of any future meeting between the two of them.
“He is quite taken with me, you know,” Petronella confided in her best friend, Harriet Coupland. “I am sure that if I gave him a sign that I would welcome his advances, he would ask me to be his mistress.”
Verity almost choked on her tea, but Harriet merely giggled and said, “Oh, Petronella, you would not dare be so bold.”
“Certainly not, but I must tell you, it quite pains me to know I must someday break his heart. I believe, actually, that with a little effort, I can push him in Antoinette’s direction. She is quite like me when I was a young girl, you know.”
How she could utter such a tarradiddle was beyond all understanding, but as Petronella rattled on, Verity gradually realized that her sister was not consciously lying—she actually believed what she was saying.
“And he is quite grateful that Ralph is willing to give him advice on the political issues facing this country. Ralph says that he has almost persuaded Lord Sherington to take his seat in the House of Lords. That will be quite a feather in Ralph’s cap.”
There was a tap at the door, and Otterwall entered, bearing a letter on a salver.
Petronella snatched it off the tray, gave a shriek of delight when she saw the seal, then waved it triumphantly in Harriet’s face. “There, what did I tell you, he has sent us another invitation.”
“Who?” Harriet asked, craning her neck to try to see the letter more closely.
“Who? Need you ask? Lord Sherington, of course.” At her sister’s words, Verity’s heart missed a beat and then began to pound at double its normal speed. Lord Sherington had not yet grown tired of her company. Impatiently she leaned forward, wishing she could snatch the letter out of her sister’s hands.
Well knowing she was the center of attention, Petronella broke the seal and carefully unfolded the heavy vellum, then read aloud, “ ‘I hope you will forgive the lateness of this invitation, but I would appreciate it if you and your family would join me in my box at the opera this evening.’ There—what did I tell you. Two nights ago he took dinner with us, last night he escorted us to Lady Finzel’s musical evening, and today he has invited us to the opera. Why, the man positively dotes on me, and cannot endure to let a single day go by without seeking out my company.”
Harriet snatched the missive out of Petronella’s hand and inspected it. “The invitation is addressed to Lord and Lady Wasteneys and Miss Jolliffe. I do not see that he has signaled you out for any special attention.”
“Well, of course not, silly. That would be indiscreet. But it is me he is besotted with, of that you may be sure, even though he is forced to include my husband in the party for propriety’s sake.”
Leaving the two women arguing about the significance of the wording of the invitation, Verity hurried up to her room and began to search in her clothespress for a gown suitable for an evening at the opera.
But it was soon clear to her that she had allowed her wardrobe to become shockingly neglected. Since she had rarely gone out the last
When Lord Sherington finally deposited her on her doorstep, it seemed but a foretaste of what was to come. He had revealed to her something of his past, and now she understood the reasons for the hunger she had seen in his eyes. Unfortunately, despite his insistence that she was a strong person, she knew she was not woman enough to fill the empty places in his heart.
Now, watching him drive away, she felt as if he had stolen the very soul from her body, but she doubted if he was even thinking about her.
And as always when he left her, her first thought was to wonder if she would ever see him again. This time the pain was already starting, because even though she had waited, hoping he would suggest another morning drive, he had made no mention of any future meeting between the two of them.
“He is quite taken with me, you know,” Petronella confided in her best friend, Harriet Coupland. “I am sure that if I gave him a sign that I would welcome his advances, he would ask me to be his mistress.”
Verity almost choked on her tea, but Harriet merely giggled and said, “Oh, Petronella, you would not dare be so bold.”
“Certainly not, but I must tell you, it quite pains me to know I must someday break his heart. I believe, actually, that with a little effort, I can push him in Antoinette’s direction. She is quite like me when I was a young girl, you know.”
How she could utter such a tarradiddle was beyond all understanding, but as Petronella rattled on, Verity gradually realized that her sister was not consciously lying—she actually believed what she was saying.
“And he is quite grateful that Ralph is willing to give him advice on the political issues facing this country. Ralph says that he has almost persuaded Lord Sherington to take his seat in the House of Lords. That will be quite a feather in Ralph’s cap.”
There was a tap at the door, and Otterwall entered, bearing a letter on a salver.
Petronella snatched it off the tray, gave a shriek of delight when she saw the seal, then waved it triumphantly in Harriet’s face. “There, what did I tell you, he has sent us another invitation.”
“Who?” Harriet asked, craning her neck to try to see the letter more closely.
“Who? Need you ask? Lord Sherington, of course.” At her sister’s words, Verity’s heart missed a beat and then began to pound at double its normal speed. Lord Sherington had not yet grown tired of her company. Impatiently she leaned forward, wishing she could snatch the letter out of her sister’s hands.
Well knowing she was the center of attention, Petronella broke the seal and carefully unfolded the heavy vellum, then read aloud, “ ‘I hope you will forgive the lateness of this invitation, but I would appreciate it if you and your family would join me in my box at the opera this evening.’ There—what did I tell you. Two nights ago he took dinner with us, last night he escorted us to Lady Finzel’s musical evening, and today he has invited us to the opera. Why, the man positively dotes on me, and cannot endure to let a single day go by without seeking out my company.”
Harriet snatched the missive out of Petronella’s hand and inspected it. “The invitation is addressed to Lord and Lady Wasteneys and Miss Jolliffe. I do not see that he has signaled you out for any special attention.”
“Well, of course not, silly. That would be indiscreet. But it is me he is besotted with, of that you may be sure, even though he is forced to include my husband in the party for propriety’s sake.”
Leaving the two women arguing about the significance of the wording of the invitation, Verity hurried up to her room and began to search in her clothespress for a gown suitable for an evening at the opera.
But it was soon clear to her that she had allowed her wardrobe to become shockingly neglected. Since she had rarely gone out the last
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