“Nonsense. How stuffy you’re being. One of them will nick the other with a sword point, and that will be that.”
“How do you know it’s to be swords?” A memory of Randolph slashing at Rochford rose vividly in her mind.
Olivia looked sly. “I’ve been cultivating Mr. Wrentham’s second. Lord Carrick. I met him at Salbridge in the autumn. A very dramatic young man.” She laughed. “Isn’t it exciting?”
“It’s dreadful, Olivia. You must speak to someone, this Carrick perhaps. Tell the truth and stop the duel from happening.”
“Are you mad? I’m going to find out where they’re meeting and sneak out to watch. Lord Carrick will tell me where, eventually.”
“Then I’ll have to do it,” Verity replied. She didn’t like the idea. She was barely acquainted with Mr. Wrentham, but from what she’d seen he wasn’t one to listen. As for Mr. Rochford, if he’d been challenged, perhaps insulted, he wouldn’t draw back. Indeed, he was probably as thrilled as Olivia at the outing.
“I’ll never forgive you if you do,” Olivia declared. Her eyes snapped with annoyance. “Why would you ruin all the fun? And expose me to scandal.”
“I wouldn’t mention you.”
“Indeed? What truth would you share then?”
That was the crucial question. Verity wondered if she’d be obliged to confess her own visit to Rochford. “When is this duel?”
“I shan’t tell you. Indeed I’m sorry now that I mentioned it at all.”
“Olivia, you must see that this isn’t—”
“I see that you’ve become a grandiose Gresham before you’re even married,” Olivia said.
“I’m not grandiose. Neither are they.”
“Oh, Verity,” Olivia answered with exaggerated patience. “It’s just wit.”
“Wit is striking because it’s so true. That wasn’t.”
“How priggish you’ve become.” Her expression hardened. “So you insist on being serious, I see. Very well. Seriously, it isn’t wise to cross me, Verity. If you interfere with my amusements, I’ll make certain you regret it.” She walked away.
Verity stood alone in the noisy room and considered adventures. It was easier to read about them than to participate, she acknowledged. Books told of slogging through leech-ridden swamps, subsisting on maggot-infested ship’s biscuit, and fighting off hostile man and beast, yes. But one could read right over those bits and on to the triumphs. Also, the narrators hadn’t paid nearly enough heed to the human element, she thought resentfully. It seemed to Verity that people complicated everything one tried to do. Not that she was giving up. She scanned the room. She wanted Randolph—to tell him, to consult with him. Which was a good sign, wasn’t it?
She didn’t see him. Lord Robert was standing on the other side of the chamber, however. Verity walked over to him. “Good evening.”
He greeted her more gravely than usual.
Verity had no time for subtleties. “Is Randolph coming tonight?”
“If he’d imagined you’d be here, I’m sure he would have,” Lord Robert said. “I believe he thought you’d be locked away in a tower or some such thing.”
“This isn’t a fairy tale,” she replied. She saw the irony—that she should be the prosaic one—and dismissed it. “Will you give him a message for me?” This was better than trying to send a note under her father’s eye.
“Of course.” Lord Robert looked amenable, and curious.
“Tell him I know about the ram.”
“The… Did you say ram?”
“Yes.”
“As in a male sheep?”
So he didn’t know about Randolph’s problem with the archbishop, Verity concluded. Well, she wasn’t going to tell him. “Yes. And I must talk to him as soon as possible.”
“About the ram?”
“Among other things. Quite a few other things.”
“I’m sure he’ll call on you first thing.”
“That won’t work.” Papa would hover. “Tell him to meet me in the park outside Gunter’s, where we had the ices, at eleven.”
“At your service,” replied Lord Robert dryly. “Is there a secret password?”
“Matters are snarled enough without sarcasm,” Verity said.
“So they are.” He hesitated, then added, “Randolph takes things hard. He’s always been that way.”
Verity liked Randolph’s family. Very much. But Lord Robert could be just a bit irritating. “Things like an engagement?”
“That seems to be good for him.”
Verity thought of repeating seems in a caustic tone. But it was always wise—intellectually frugal—to use the opportunities you were given. “What about the other time?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The other engagement,” she said.
Lord Robert gazed at her, one auburn brow raised. “Whose?” He looked only inquiring, a bit confused.
She might as well make the final throw, Verity decided. “Rosalie’s?”
He cocked his head as if reviewing a store of information. “I don’t believe I know any young lady named Rosalie. Is she a friend