Leaving her and Fox alone with Father. A wild thrumming started up in her. Fox would tell him the truth, he’d said, and then what?
Father wouldn’t beat her, she didn’t think. He might despise her. He might try to marry her off to some lord in his service.
Farnsworth, perhaps. He was a baron, long-ago widowed, but not in a million years would she have him.
“Go to bed, my dear,” Father said. “I would speak to Fox privately.”
Fox’s grip on her hand slackened and she looked at him. He wanted to send her away also.
She pulled her hand away and stood. “I will not. What he has to say concerns me also.” She twisted her hands in the kerseymere skirt and paced around the table where she could face both of them. “I’ll not be shut out, or sent to bed. I’m not a child any longer.”
Perry’s eyesheld so much hurt, it tore at his heart. She’d not been a compliant girl, and she wouldn’t be a compliant wife, either. Yet, she must give him his due as a man to talk to her father in his own way and own time, especially since she’d forced the issue. He wouldn’t beg Shaldon to bless a marriage between them. Only a blessing freely given would make for a marriage that would endure. If Shaldon begrudged them this marriage, Perry would be unhappy. If they were sent away, she would miss Cransdall, her brothers and their wives, and her nieces and nephews. She’d miss her horses also.
Love wouldn’t sustain without the friendship of her family.
But if he took her to America…his brother had written seeking reconciliation, promising his share of their father’s lands, if he returned. Land yes, but no guarantee of the friendship ofhisfamily. More than likely, she would be desperately homesick for England.
She’d forced this hand and he had no choice but to play it.
He reached for her and she came to him. He could feel her quaking.
“Lord Shaldon, I care very much for Perry, and…we’ve shared this cottage without a proper chaperone. I’ve compromised her.” His throat tightened and took a deep breath. “I would like your blessing to marry your daughter.”
“And you’ve spoken to her before speaking to me, or her brother?”
The ass. He was every bit as condescending as Fox had expected.
“I’m of age, Father.” Anger flashed in Perry’s eyes. “And Bakeley has no say over me.”
“So, I take it, daughter, you are willing to marry Fox?”
Her lips formed an O sending his heart crashing, but she finally nodded. “Yes.”
“And if I oppose the match?” His gaze took them both in. Shaldon’s shoulders lifted in a sigh. “Come here, Perpetua.”
She bit her lip and stalled, what she had said, that she didn’t truly know her father, displayed on her face. “Fox has been very honorable. I should greatly appreciate your approval, Father, but I shall be willing to marry him even without it.”
Dear, defiant Perry. He opened his mouth to set the record straight, but Shaldon spoke first.
“Yes. I know. Come here.”
She glanced at Fox and he nodded.
Her father grasped her hand. “So cold,” he murmured. “And there is that bruise on your cheek that you’ve painted over. I’ve been wondering about it since I arrived.” He shot Fox a look that sparkled with anger. “Now let me see what else you are hiding under that scarf at your neck.”
Perry gasped. “It wasn’t Fox’s doing—”
“The scarf, Perpetua.”
Fox stood and went to help her, his fingers fumbling with the cloth. “It wasn’t my doing, but itwasmy fault.” It’d been his rejection that’d caused her to take flight.
The scarf slipped away, and Shaldon took in the ugly bruises, his mouth going hard. “His brows drew together and he turned a look on Fox. “She’s been wincing and favoring her left side. Is there more?”
“Blows to the back. Above and below the kidney, I’d say. Nothing broken, but badly bruised.”
“How did this happen?” Shaldon addressed the question to him.
“She was…” he fumbled for words that would not make her feel foolish. “taken on the road to Scarborough.”
