imagine the heir in nothing but a tattered scrap of fur. Yet he was such a dignified, reserved man. “Nathaniel?”
Flora nodded. “I know. My point is, the six glorious Greshams haven’t abandoned the habits of their youth. And they have greater ingenuity now, and resources. I took steps to make sure my wedding included no…surprises.”
The more she knew Flora, the more she liked her, Verity thought. “How?”
Flora ticked off points with her fingers. “I gave them no warning. I sent Robert for a special license ahead of time, and I made arrangements with the local clergyman when we were all down at Langford for Christmas. One morning, I had my mother gather them up.” Flora smirked. “Even though Mama is the kindest person—she’s spending three months with her sister right now so that Robert and I can have our house to ourselves—she has a fierce reputation. She…overawed the brothers when they were young, and the effects linger.”
“So you had no special gown or wedding breakfast?” Verity wasn’t certain she’d have liked that.
“Of course we did. The duchess knew all about it.”
“Sebastian said she knows everything about the family,” Verity remembered.
Flora nodded. “So I’m just dropping a friendly word in your ear. Take care to manage your own wedding day. Especially as Randolph is a churchman. You wouldn’t want the bishop, or whoever officiates, to come upon him naked and draped in flowers on the altar, or something.”
Verity choked on shocked laughter. The image was all too vivid, and tempting. But her father’s friend the Bishop of Chester would not be amused. As for the embarrassed Archbishop of Canterbury, it didn’t bear thinking of. “They’d never do that.”
“I’ve learned not to try to predict what they will or won’t do. It’s easier to limit their scope.”
Verity tried to picture her wedding to Randolph. The intimacy they’d shared on the daybed seemed so long ago. They had been alone together here, but the duchess’s illness had loomed more starkly than any chaperone. And now there was, or wasn’t, Rosalie. The future seemed uncertain.
At the other end of the table, an argument erupted over some other past contest. The brothers turned to the duke to referee, and he seemed to enjoy it. The Gresham family wasn’t just suitable and eminent, Verity thought. They were fun. Any woman would be glad to join them.
“I shall go home tomorrow,” Nathaniel said when the dispute died down. “Thank God I have good news for Violet. She’s been so worried.” He looked concerned, and Verity remembered that their first child was due soon. “I’m sorry Mama won’t be able to come and be with her,” he added.
“She will be very sorry, too,” the duke said. “But she won’t be strong enough.” His tone brooked no argument.
“I know.”
Violet’s own mother wasn’t mentioned; Verity didn’t know why, though the others seemed to. A new family was an undiscovered country.
“I’ll ride with you partway,” Alan said.
She’d have to go soon as well, Verity thought. The critical need for music was past. She’d find an opportunity to corner Randolph first, however, and thrash everything out.
A footman came in. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. There’s a gentleman who insists—”
Before he could finish, a shorter figure walked in on his heels. “Yes, I beg your pardon,” the man said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meal. But I’ve come to fetch my daughter.”
“Papa,” said Verity, rising from her chair.
Randolph stood quickly. The newcomer resembled Verity in the shape of his face and the color of his eyes and hair, though the bright hue of the latter was muted by gray. Mr. Sinclair was a bit pudgy. Randolph and his brothers towered over him, but he had a strong presence nonetheless.
“Get your hat,” he said to Verity. “We must go.”
“Is something wrong?” she replied.
“Several things. We will discuss them elsewhere.”
He looked stern, Randolph thought, and not particularly happy to be here.
“Is Mama all right?” said Verity worriedly.
“Quite all right.”
“Won’t you have a glass of wine with us?” asked the duke. “Or perhaps, have you eaten?”
“I require nothing, thank you.”
Recovering from the surprise of his entry, Randolph stepped forward to greet Verity’s father. His response was perfunctory, and the look he gave Randolph was depressingly familiar. The higher up in the church a man was, the more common the censorious gaze.
Verity moved to his side. “Lord Randolph and I are engaged, Papa.”
“So I have heard. From a number of people. Though not from my wife and daughter, for some reason.” His tone implied that he knew the