Page 35 of An Unusual Wager

“I was saying what a nice day it is,” Kitty said, the lie coming smoothly to her. Impressive.

Seeming satisfied, the dowager gave Verity a peremptory nod. “Your family?” It was a querulous prompt.

Verity swallowed and fixed a pleasant smile onto her face. “My uncle is Viscount Somerton.”

The dowager nodded as though she knew who Verity was referring to. “That pipsqueak.” What would Uncle Adolphus have to say about being described thus? “Knew his father when I was a girl. Danced with him when I had my coming out in Town. Very handsome man.” Her expression softened. “Remember the sons when they were little boys in the nursery.”

She must mean Papa as well as Uncle Adolphus. Verity quelled the impulse to ask the old lady about Papa as a boy. He’d always seemed so old to her it was impossible to imagine him as a child in the nursery.

The dowager kept going. “Don’t live too far off. Wiltshire, ain’t it? Been to the house for a few balls in my time.” She paused. “Not such a fine house as this one, mind you. Nowhere near as big. Not that I can get about in it any longer. Getting old’s not much fun, I can tell you. Make the most of being young, both of you, or you’ll regret it later.”

Nothing could be such a fine house as this one, but Verity didn’t say so. Instead she kept the bland smile fixed on her face. “I was married from my uncle’s house in London,” she tried. It was hard to think of things she could say without giving away too much, positive as she was that the dowager would be horrified to hear of the circumstances that had led to her marriage.

Kitty bounced on the seat beside her. “She has the most beautiful gowns I’ve ever seen.” She sounded wistful. Did no one here ever provide the poor child with new gowns of her own? The one she was wearing should have been replaced at least a year ago. Not that Verity’s clothing had been much different until little more than a week since. She had a lot to thank Aunt Josephine for.

“Gowns don’t make a lady,” Kitty’s grandmother snapped. “As well you know.”

“But they do make a lady look nice,” Kitty retorted, unabashed.

Her grandmother tapped the closed fan she was holding on the arm of her Bath chair. “Do not try being pert with me, young lady. You’re not too old for me to have you spanked and confined to your bedroom for the rest of the day.”

Kitty assumed a contrite expression and hung her head. “I’m sorry, Grandmama.” Although Verity doubted very much this was true.

With Kitty silenced momentarily, she seized the opportunity to direct the conversation. “You must have seen a lot of change here at Luxborough in your time?”

The old lady sucked her lips in over what appeared to be toothless gums and nodded. “I was married at seventeen and that was over eighty years ago now. There’s been a lot of changes here over the years, although before that woman took over the Dower House, I lived there after my Marcus died. A long time ago now.” A hint of resentment had entered her voice. “Had to give it up when my daughter-in-law, that infernal French woman, became a widow herself. Had the cheek to demand it of me as though it were her right. Though, if we’re being pedantic, she’s only merited the title of dowager since your wedding, missy.”

So the other dowager, Jonnie’s mother, had removed herself from the main house possibly the moment her husband had died. Had that had anything to do with Kitty’s arrival, and her beloved brother Jonnie’s determination she should be treated as part of the family? She must have been incensed at the idea of housing her late husband’s illegitimate child. Could that have made her up and depart for a completely different house?

“I have not as yet had the pleasure of meeting the other Lady Dunster.” How odd it was to be one of three living Lady Dunsters. Awkward at the least.

The Dowager, whose sagging, wrinkled cheeks had flared with spots of angry red, hawked and spat into the cold fireplace. “Pah. You’ll not find much pleasure in her company, I can assure you. A pox on the woman. The only good thing she ever did in her life was to give me my Jonnie and then take herself off in a huff sixteen years later. We can do without her here.”

Well, there was no dissembling with her. Interesting to find the old lady in agreement with her granddaughter. Verity thought of the portrait in the haunted hall and a shiver ran down her spine. The other countess did not look like the sort of woman she could take to. She was inclined herself to agree with the consensus of opinion, even though she’d not met her yet. And forewarned was always forearmed.

It might be a good idea to steer away from subjects that made her hostess angry. “The house is most impressive,” Verity tried.

“Were you brought up at Somerton?” the dowager asked. “Beautiful house. Parts of it a sight older than this one.” She waved a dismissive hand. “This place was built from scratch towards the end of the sixteenth century, but Somerton goes back a century or more before that. Lovely old place. Always liked it but I don’t suppose I’ll ever see it again now. Can’t get about any longer. Can’t even get out of this chair on my own. Old age can be most humiliating.”

This was easier to answer. “When I was a child, I lived in the Dower House with my own grandmother. About a mile from the main house, across the park. I had a very happy childhood there. My grandmother was a wonderful woman.”

A snort of laughter. “And you think I might not be?” The old lady reached out a liver-spotted and skeletally thin hand and seized Kitty’s small plump one. “You tell her, child, whether I’m a wonderful woman or not.”

Kitty made no move to escape, but turned her cheerful face to Verity. “Grandmama is the nicest person here at Luxborough, you can be certain.”

Was she? So far Verity had only seen an acerbic and dictatorial old lady. That didn’t say much for the rest of them.

Kitty must have seen the skepticism on her face, for she nodded with vigor. “When I was born and my mother died, Grandmama backed up Jonnie against his own mother so that I could be brought up here, which I believe was one of the reasons his mother decided to retire to the Dower House.”

Might the old lady have only done this to spite her hated French daughter-in-law and perhaps drive her from the house she considered her own? A distinct possibility.

Kitty beamed at her grandmother. “I may not be legitimate, but Grandmama has always treated me as though I was.” She turned her own hand over and threaded her fingers through the old lady’s bony ones. “I love her very much.”

As for Kitty, she seemed to love everyone. Except Jonnie’s mother, of course.

Was that the sparkle of real tears in those rheumy old eyes? The sensation that the love was mutual settled over Verity and made her smile. She spoke from the heart. “You are both very lucky to have each other.” If only her own grandmother had not died, how different would her life be now? “Your grandmother has you to brighten her days, and even though you have no mother, in its place you have the love of a grandmother, which I know is a treasure beyond all other things.” Both of them had grown up without a mother’s care. They had much in common, which might be why she’d felt so confident in revealing her secret to Kitty.

The dowager retrieved her hand and harumphed. “That’s as may be, but don’t I recall that young whippersnapper viscount uncle of yours having a ne’er-do-well brother? Is that man your father, missy? I assume he must be.”