Page 47 of An Unusual Wager

Once they were alone, Verity put into action the plan she’d been formulating ever since she’d met the French dowager. She wanted to know a lot more about Kitty’s birth, as it seemed to have had a lasting effect on the older lady. Not that she was truly old, but, apart from her face, it was impossible to think of her in any other way, so ravaged was she by her rheumatics.

She laid her own napkin down. “I went to see Lord Dunster’s mother.”

Was she mistaken, or did Miss Bligh’s expression change at mention of the Dowager?

She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Most appropriate.”

Verity nodded. “I had been here long enough and felt it behooved on me to do my duty and introduce myself. I now quite understand why it would be impossible for Her Ladyship to have called upon me. Her condition precludes such an expedition.”

Miss Bligh nodded. “That is so. My brother visits her every week, even though she is not at all grateful, and on occasion can be quite rude as he is not a Catholic priest. He tells me she has much deteriorated in the past few years. The rheumatics is a cruel affliction.”

“It is indeed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so badly affected at what must, I assume by her face, be a relatively young age.”

“I believe she is fifty-three.”

“Still young by many standards.” Verity glanced at the window. If she knew Kitty, which she now did to a certain extent, those three circuits of the house would take a good half hour as she’d be stopping to talk to the gardeners and anyone else she found out there. “I must tell you that she said something I found strange. But as she seemed most affected by it, I didn’t press her to find out what she meant.”

Miss Bligh assumed a guarded expression. “Oh?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you might be able to shed light on what she said.”

Miss Bligh raised an eyebrow, managing to look both keen to be helpful and wary of what might be asked of her at the same time. “I could try.” She did not sound like she wanted to, though.

Verity ploughed on, determined to discover the secret. “She told me she blames Kitty for her husband’s death. Only, Kitty has already told me she was born after that unfortunate accident. How can the two be connected?”

Now Miss Bligh’s face paled, telling Verity there was indeed something to be discovered here.

The governess swallowed. “I’m very sorry, Lady Dunster. It is not something I am at liberty to reveal.”

So she knew at least some of it. “Oh. But can you at least tell me if it’s true, or if the dowager is perhaps suffering under a delusion?”

Miss Bligh opened and closed her mouth a few times in a way reminiscent of the goldfish in one of the ornate ponds at the Parc de Saint-Cloud, just outside Paris, where Verity had once walked.

Verity waited.

Miss Bligh cleared her throat, swallowed, and opened her mouth again, this time looking as though actual words might be about to emerge.

She was interrupted by the dining room door banging open and Kitty hurling herself into the room, eyes wide and wild, a look of horror on her face.

Miss Bligh shut her mouth with a snap as both she and Verity turned to stare at Kitty.

“Whatever’s wrong?” Verity asked, her heart leaping into her throat. Had something happened on the child’s walk?

“Come quick!” Kitty gasped, as though finding it hard to get enough air to speak. “You have to come quick. There’s a carriage outside. Jonnie’s in it, and I think he’s dying.”