A Favor for the Prince - Jane Ashford Page 0,71

rather fast, Verity thought. Like a man running from something? But that was silly. He didn’t have an unreasonable father.

The room seemed a great deal emptier when he was gone. He filled her…consciousness. She wanted very much to marry him, she realized as her mind darted from her father’s letter to wild ideas about what might have prompted it. She had to set Papa straight. Categorically.

“So very polite,” her mother was saying. “And handsome! Oh, Verity, a duke’s son and a churchman. He’s ideal. He has a bit of money, too. Lucy Doran told me so. Though how she knows these things, I can’t imagine. Not a great fortune, but we don’t care for that, do we? You have a bit also, so you’ll be comfortable. And you sing so beautifully together. I know that’s important to you. Of course the chief thing is that you like him.” She fixed Verity with an earnest gaze.

“I do, Mama.” She hadn’t quite understood how much.

“Good. Good.” The older woman let out a satisfied sigh. “I must write to your papa at once.”

“No!”

Her mother started at the snap in Verity’s tone.

“I’ll write to Papa. Myself. I want to do it myself.”

“Well, of course you will. Is something wrong?”

“No. I just want to share my own good news. Don’t mention the engagement until I write him.”

Looking perplexed, her mother said, “Very well.” She brightened. “Better still, why don’t we just go home and tell him? We’d have such a happy, peaceful time together.”

Verity hid a wince. Would Papa try to forbid the match? She was twenty-four years old; he couldn’t actually do that. But she didn’t want to fight with him. She had to fix this. “You promised me a season,” she replied.

“Well, yes, but now that your future is settled, why not go home and begin to plan your wedding? We could reach Chester almost as fast as a letter.”

“I want to stay in London,” Verity replied. Every instinct said to stay near Randolph. So much could go wrong if they were hundreds of miles apart. She had to talk to him, at once. And she wasn’t panicking. No, she was not.

Her mother looked impatient, then resigned. “Very well.”

“I want to become better acquainted with Lord Randolph’s family,” Verity added.

“Ah.” Mama nodded as if this made sense. “Of course. I suppose the duchess will approve of the match?”

The concern in her voice surprised Verity. “We got on very well when we visited her school,” she said.

“I’m sure she’ll be glad then,” was the reply. “Verity, is all well with you? You seem agitated. You are happy with this match? I mean, you’ve always known your own mind, and I don’t suppose you would have—”

“I am.” She nodded emphatically and tried to look like her customary self as her mind intoned, “A plan, a plan, must have a plan.”

Stop dithering, declared that dry inner voice that seemed to be specializing in tardy pronouncements just now. Are you not the woman who was ready to face down charging lions and ford jungle torrents? What is the matter with you?

Verity sat quite still and considered the question. Part of her felt as if she faced a threat as dangerous as those ravening lions, though the comparison was ridiculous. She would simply ask Randolph straight out about the archbishop, she thought. Verity let out a breath she’d been unaware of holding. He’d tell her what had happened. They were going to be married; they could talk about embarrassing matters. Should be able to. Well, they could start right here. She was no fainting flower. And once she had the facts she—they—would figure out what to do. An errant thought suggested that if the situation could be easily remedied, Randolph would have done so. She brushed it aside.

“Verity?” said her mother, looking concerned.

“I’m fine, Mama,” she told both of them.

* * *

Some streets away, the duchess had responded to Randolph’s news with a searching look. “So you’re happy?” she asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“This isn’t the way you talked when you told me about Rosalie.”

“That was years ago,” he said. “The case is different.”

“But Randolph—”

“My future is settled, Mama. Just as I wished it to be. Verity will be a fine wife.”

“Fine isn’t the same as—”

“And I shall endeavor to be an exemplary husband to her,” Randolph interrupted again. Immediately, he regretted his choice of words. He was being stiff and pompous—the opposite of the way he wished to sound. But Mama was making him feel defensive. She didn’t understand

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