act. Not to sit with folded hands waiting for what came.
Randolph lengthened his stride and drew in a deep breath. He’d had a fine early match at Angelo’s, learning a cunning new form of riposte from the fencing master. Invigorated, he’d taken a turn through St. James Square and down to Pall Mall. Now, as he headed for home, he felt splendid. Until, that is, he saw a familiar figure rushing toward him. What the deuce was she doing in this part of town? She could have no business here. But there was no avoiding the girl, even though she didn’t seem to see him. He raised his hat. Did she always look annoyed? “Miss Sinclair,” he said.
She stopped and looked up at him with a last-straw sort of expression. “You,” she said.
Randolph felt the same. He would have walked on, but she must have lost her way to be in this neighborhood, seemingly alone. “Are you on your own?”
“Yes, I am. And you needn’t tell me it isn’t the thing. I know! And I’m not in the mood.” She turned to leave.
He’d had quite enough of Miss Verity Sinclair, but still he had to say, “You shouldn’t go that way.”
“I beg your pardon?” was the icy response.
“That’s Pall Mall.” Randolph pointed down the hill.
“And so?”
“No respectable lady walks down Pall Mall.”
She was the picture of exasperation. “Are you saying I can’t even walk down a wretched street?”
“I’m not the one who says—”
“Whyever not?” she interrupted.
“Lots of clubs along there. It’s sort of…male territory.” It sounded a bit ridiculous when he said it aloud. He didn’t wish to add that she’d be ogled through the windows and very likely mistaken for a lightskirt.
“Clubs,” she echoed in tones of deep revulsion. “No ladies allowed. Particularly young ladies.”
Randolph made no reply to this odd remark. Thankfully, Miss Sinclair turned about and started walking away from the offending street. He fell in beside her.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I’ll escort you home,” he said. He knew his duty, no matter how onerous.
“No.”
“You can’t—”
“I am so deathly tired of being told what I cannot do!”
Randolph bit back a sharp retort. “I can’t just leave you here,” he answered instead.
“Find me a cab then. I won’t be walked home like a child.”
He did so. An inner voice argued that he should go along, but he let her dissuade him, because he didn’t wish to.
* * *
As she sat beside her mother in their hired carriage that evening, Verity was still fuming. The Travellers Club had seemed a heaven-sent opportunity to find the sort of person she wanted—all those explorers gathered in one place. And diplomats…an active diplomat might do in a pinch. She’d planned to go to their talks and…browse. Like a canny shopper in a well-stocked market. It had not been stupid to assume the lectures would be public.
When she was younger and less aware of the world’s realities, she’d meant to be the intrepid adventurer herself, of course. She’d traced out routes on the globe in her father’s study and read about the places she would visit. She’d assembled a cache of useful items and made long treks around her placid home, in dreadful weather as well as fine, to build hardiness. Eventually, though, she’d had to admit that solitary expeditions as a female would require more effrontery than she possessed and a vast amount of money, which she didn’t have.
Learned institutions wouldn’t sponsor trips by a woman. Wealthy patrons wouldn’t fund them. And so, slowly, she’d changed her goal to finding a companion who would accept her as an exploring partner, and not leave her behind while he sailed off for years at a time. She acknowledged that this wouldn’t be easy, but there must be at least one such man in the world. Verity was prepared to impress him as soon as he could be found.
She’d studied exotic botany and how to bind up wounds. She could speak French and Spanish. The knife throwing hadn’t worked out in the end, but she could shoot a pistol with tolerable accuracy. She would have been a crack shot if finding a practice range hadn’t been so…complicated. There was no point in sulking over the Travellers Club, even though she had no other idea half as good. She’d just have to work harder. The ton was crammed full of rich men; some of them would have connections to the sort of person she wanted.
The carriage set them down outside Lady Tolland’s town house, and