Page 82 of Lady Liar

As for herself, over the years she hired a series of clever girls to read and write her letters. Some of them went on to marry, a few of them took positions as teachers or governesses. As the queen had once enjoyed meddling in her business, Verity greatly enjoyed helping launch those young ladies in whichever direction they chose.

Lilith enjoyed the same. The queen had decided to step in and assist her and had done a rather marvelous job of it. She’d provided a dowry and perhaps most importantly, her public backing. Lilith was wed the very next season to a steady and reliable viscount. She had once had ambitions to rule society, but now she found she enjoyed the peaceful regularity of her viscount. She appreciated having a firm foundation under her feet. Most of all, she appreciated that her children would have just the same. She never forgot Lady Verity’s kindness and they would become fast friends over the years. After all, they were practically neighbors and Lilith’s influence went a long way to stopping her viscount from firing his gun off at all hours, as had been his habit. Lady Pegatha was often visiting Lilith’s house, only to move on to Baron Wembly’s house.

Unbeknownst to the people he left behind in England, things worked out rather marvelously for Mr. Klonsume. He was startled, to say the least, to discover that Mrs. Right had cooked up a ruse to get him out of the house. He was not at all surprised that he would have been put forward for a knighthood, but he was gobsmacked that an English housekeeper could fool a clever fellow like himself.

However, the one thing he knew about his American ingenuity was that it never let him down.

Having been sent back on a ship to America, Mr. Klonsume put his American confidence and ingenuity to work. He’d insisted Lady Marchfield fork out the funds for a private berth and a certain amount of money in his possession, and he rubbed shoulders with the other people aboard with deep pockets. It seemed to him that despite Americans being a proud people with every right to be proud, there still was that unspoken regard for nobility and rank. His old employer in New York had been a striver into certain circles and was forever mentioning his pedigree of being descended from one of the passengers ofThe Fortune, the second boat that had arrived afterThe Mayflower. That was nothing compared to Mr. Klonsume’s reinvention.

The circles Mr. Klonsume preferred to travel in were not so rarified as to care aboutThe Mayfloweror any boats that followed, nor would any of the members of those circles have the first idea of whether he’d been actually knighted or not. After all, was it not more pleasant to be a large fish in a small pond than a minnow in the ocean? He was determined to leave the noses-up crowd where they were—it was far more satisfying to be at the top of the hoi polloi.

By the time he docked in New York, he was known as Sir Morus, of the Order of Owen. He’d kept the clothing he’d been given to wear to the knighting ceremony, had there been one, and would wear it on special occasions. As he’d not got hold of a crest, he invented his own and plastered it on every available surface in his household. It was comprised of two lions surrounding a phoenix in flight, carrying his knight’s sword to the sky. He had made all sorts of medals to hang on his coats, indicating various braveries done during his time in England. He even invented a Klonsume lineage motto—We Rise to the Heavens.

One of the advantages to being seen as rich was that it seemed everybody around one wished for one to be even richer.He was forever being given sage investment advice and did very well using the small pile of money that he’d squeezed out of Lady Marchfield.

He eventually married the daughter of a rich factory owner from Boston and became even richer. That lady styled herself as Lady Klonsume. It was well he did do so well financially. Now that he was a Sir, he could hardly be expected to hold a job. He often made a great show of writing a letter to Lady Marchfield, an English countess and a great intimate of his, he claimed. He made an even bigger show of it the one time she’d written him back. Of course nobody was privy to the contents of that letter, which instructed Sir Morus in no uncertain terms to stop sending her letters.

Sir Morus and Lady Klonsume were invited everywhere within their strata of society, which was perhaps not at the tippy-top. Being a leader of sorts, he was often able to explain ‘how things were done at Buckingham’ and what was ‘good form.’

American ingenuity had served him all his life, and it continued to do so until the day he died. Though, perhaps his last idea on showing his milieu an example of good form was ill-advised. Well into his seventies, it had not been the most ingenious idea to perish by falling into a lit fire while demonstrating how the English used two fire pokers, elegantly pinched between thumb and forefinger, to rearrange the logs. Especially since it was not even true. But then, one would suppose Mrs. Right would not be surprised to hear that Mr. Klonsume had gone up in flames of his own making.

Lady Marchfield was, if she was anything at all, made of stern stuff. Her brother might wonder when she was going to give up installing butlers into his house in an effort to establish regularity, but she was not such a wilting daisy as that. She found herself very reluctant to admit defeat, as that would mean her brother had prevailed. The duke would likely be happy toknow it, as he did enjoy the spectacle of his housekeeper driving those butlers out as fast as they came in. She was already thinking of where she could find the next one.

As a London season had gone once more, a new one would come again. That would be time for Winsome to take her place in society. In fact, she had already met one gentleman who had sparked interest. The Marquess of Manderbey had attended Verity’s wedding, and he was found to be rather divine. Of course, she was doubtful that the marquess had even noticed her.

As for Manderbey, he certainly had noticed. If only the lady were not so suspicious over everything he said. Why did she look at him as if he were some sort of climber or grifter? Why was she always trying to catch him out?

Why would she not? It was not as if any of the duke’s daughters would go forward in a rational manner. Where would be the fun in that?

The End