nineteen
PERRY GLANCED AT Edith working at the typewriter. For someone who had never used one, she learnt fast, and he wanted the letter to his uncle to be as formal and clear as possible. No handwriting.
“How are you doing?” he asked, pausing from dictating the letter.
“It’s not easy, but if I go slowly, I don’t make mistakes.”
“I think we’ve finished. Just add a salutation, and I’ll sign it.”
She stopped beating the keys. “Done.” She pulled the page out of the machine. “Short but polite. Neville won’t have any reasons to complain.”
Perry signed the letter and sealed it in an envelope. “I’m sure he’ll find one.” He rose, letter in hand, to pull the cord to summon the butler.
Mason appeared in a moment. “My lord.”
He handed him the envelope. “This needs to be delivered with urgency.”
Mason bowed and left as quietly as he’d come.
After that, he had another subject to discuss with Edith. She gathered the pieces of paper in a neat stack, and he got lostadmiring her elegant hands. If she wanted, those hands would save many lives when she became a surgeon.
“Will you join me in my personal parlour for a cup of tea?” he asked.
A little crease furrowed the space between her eyebrows. “Of course. You sound serious.”
“I am.”
They left the study and went upstairs in silence. Silence aside from Oliver’s voice echoing from downstairs.
“I can’t find my catgut. Has anyone seen it?”
Perry sat in the plush armchair in front of the covered Star Maiden. “I want to talk to you about what happened the other night.”
She took the sofa. “The conservatory.”
He took a moment to consider his words because that kiss meant a lot to him. He wanted to court her properly, ask her father’s permission, and see her regularly, not just to work in his study. After that, they might get engaged if she agreed. He hoped she would because the warm, fluttery feeling in his chest couldn’t be simply attraction or friendship. He cared about her. A lot.
“I don’t want to…” he stammered. Great. The absolute worst moment for his speech to become hesitant.
“Perry.” She reached out from the sofa to put a hand on his. “You don’t have to say anything. That kiss was nothing, really.”
“Nothing?” He ignored the quick pang in his chest.
“I mean, it was special, but we don’t have to get married because of a kiss. It happened, and it was wonderful, but you don’t have to feel responsible for my reputation or worry about my delicate feelings. It wasn’t my first kiss. I’m not some young, blushing debutante who needs protection from a scoundrel or a rake.” She laughed. “I might be considered a lady rake.”
“Ah…” That kiss had been everything for him.
“Do not worry about me,” she said.
“I do worry about you. I care about you.” That was why his heart broke a little.
“I know, and I’m grateful for that.” She squeezed his hand. “But see, I don’t care about finding a husband. What happened in the conservatory won’t ruin my chances of getting married because I’m not interested. Marianne has always wanted to be a wife and a mother. Not me.”
That wasn’t how he’d planned the conversation to go.
“It’s that…I mean I took some liberties in the conservatory,” he said.
No, that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. Not like that. But when his speech stumbled, his control diminished. He’d meant to ask her what her opinion on a proper courtship would be. She wasn’t interested in marriage, but her opinion might change if he courted her.
