“And this was before or after you compromised her?”
“It was after I spent a night alone in this house with a single man.” Perry’s tone was laced with anger. “And I left because Fox was being so honorable and so determined he was unworthy. He was thinking of your feelings and not mine.”
Her eyes glinted with unshed, angry tears. “I’m sorry, Perry.” The night’s events rushed back upon him and he pulled her close. “She was taken by three men. A big man, who might have been the real John Black, the smuggler, his minion, and a Frenchman.”
Shaldon frowned. “The three men in the skiff.”
Perry lifted her head. “No. Two of them went off and left the Frenchman. Fox shot him before he could shoot me and Pip.”
“Pip.” Shaldon rubbed his forehead. “Pip is the boy Farnsworth mentioned?”
“Yes,” Fox said.
“I see. Or rather, I don’t see. You’ll start at the beginning and leave out nothing. Er, except for the part about compromising my daughter. I don’t care to know those details.”
“Will you give your blessing, Father?” she asked.
He pressed his lips together. “You should not have come here, Perpetua. This is a dangerous business. Fox must keep you alive before any talk of marriage.”
Fox helped her into a chair and seated himself next to her, his stomach roiling. They would chase down these villains, find Carvelle, and puzzle out Lady Shaldon’s murder, before any talk of marriage. Shaldon would give her a chance to come to her senses and cry off from a promise they’d never made.
He’d never felt less honorable in all his days.
The sun wason the horizon when Father rose from the table. Perry lingered, gathering the remaining glasses and cups, stalling until Father was out of sight.
“Leave them,” Fox said. “Jenny can get them later.”
Jenny had already gone up to bed.
“I have a new spirit of republicanism.” She joked but her heart was quaking. The old Fox, the one who kept his thoughts hidden, was back. “And I’m not sure I can sleep. Are you angry with me, Fox?”
“For forcing my hand?” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and reached for the tray. “We’ll talk later. You go to bed.” He headed down the stairs to the kitchen.
She followed him.
He set the dishes to soak and gathered her into his arms.
“You don’t have to sleep in the stables, Fox. You can come upstairs—”
“With your father in the next room?” He pressed his lips to hers lightly and then broke away, taking her elbow. “Come on. I’ll escort you upstairs.”
Reluctantly, she let him lead her, dragging her tired limbs. They’d got to the parlor floor when the sound of a carriage reached them.
“Wait here.” Fox went to the door and peered out.
Perry ducked around him to look. A traveling chaise was coming up the drive, with black-clad outriders in front and behind.
MacEwen came up the drive from the stable and greeted one of the outriders.
“That’s MacEwen’s cousin,” Perry whispered.
“Did I not tell you to wait?” Fox said.
Indignation mixed with apprehension, and she clutched his arm. “And that is one of my father’s unmarked chaises. Charley would not take a chaise. Or Bink. Nor would Bink come after me. That had better not be Bakeley.”
“In a chaise? Your brother?” Fox opened the door and went down the steps.
The chaise door opened to a display of a wine-colored traveling dress. Perry hurried after Fox.
