Page 12 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

Chapter Four

Seated at the sturdy oak escritoire in his sister’s comfortably elegant drawing room, Frederick blew out an exasperated sigh, his breath rustling the blank sheet of foolscap that seemed to be staring back at him.

He’d been in Little Bilberry nearly five days now, and he still hadn’t written to his mother to let her know he’d arrived. It was unlike him.

He was an imperfect man with many faults, yes, but when it came to his mother, he was a faithful correspondent. Usually.

The problem with this particular letter was that he had no blasted idea what to say to her. What to say for himself.

There was nothing he could say for himself.

His recent conduct had been a mistake, a blot on the Darrington name, and because of it, his mother was ashamed of him. She’d spared barely a word for him these last few weeks since the end of his affair, and the morning he left London for Hampshire, all she gave him was a cool kiss on the cheek and an even cooler farewell.

He almost wished she’d shouted at him instead, or at least scolded him.

A quiet Adelaide Darrington was not a good thing.

Sitting back in the desk chair, Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his shoulders tensing beneath his wool daycoat. He truly did feel terrible for what he’d done, and he genuinely wanted to make amends with his mother. He owed her an apology, but he had no idea what to say, or how to say it, and that was a foreign feeling for him. One he did not like.

“Frederick?” Penelope’s voice called out from the hall. “Oh, here you are,” she said, walking into the drawing room. “I think I—oh. Apologies, you’re busy. I’ll leave you to your letter.”

“No,” Frederick said quickly, dropping his pen into the inkwell before turning in his chair. “My letter can wait. Please, join me.”

That was all the encouragement his sister needed. She dropped onto the chaise and propped her feet atop the rosewood sofa table, heaving an appreciative sigh as her eyes fell closed.

Frederick frowned. “Are you unwell, Pen? You look tired.”

“I am tired,” she said, smiling without opening her eyes. “Come to think of it, I’m always tired.”

“Why don’t you take a nap?”

“I wish I could, but I have too much to do this afternoon.” Another sigh overtook her, and her eyes popped open. “I must drop off a basket of goods for the widow Bates on my way to the village, where the children’s new shoes are waiting to be retrieved. Then I must head to the inn and pick up the bread and cheese Lily’s grandmother sets aside for me every week.” She gave a regretful hum. “A nap does sound lovely, though.”

“Then why don’t you let me complete those errands for you?” Frederick asked, the words slipping from his mouth nearly as fast as they’d entered his brain.

Penelope’s eyes lit with surprise before narrowing to wary slits. “And why would you want to do that?”

He shrugged. “I could use the excuse to stretch my legs, and I’d like to do this for you. Your well-being is the reason for my visit, after all.”

She raised her eyebrows, demanding honesty.

“One of the reasons,” he amended.

Penelope considered his offer for an unflatteringly long moment before finally giving in. “Very well,” she said. “But take the children with you. And if you should see Lily at the inn”—she gave him a hard look—“you will behave yourself.”

“I shall not seduce Miss Grayling today, I promise.” He held up a hand to emphasize the vow.

“That isn’t funny, Freddy.” Penelope frowned at him, her blue eyes somber, and Frederick let his hand fall to his lap.

“Lily is a dear girl and a wonderful friend,” she went on. “She has been through much, and she works so hard with very little help. The last thing she needs is a—” She broke off. “Please do not trifle with her, Freddy. Promise me you won’t.”

Frederick stiffened, indignation surging through him, and it was on the tip of his tongue to object. Only, he didn’t. What right did he have to be offended? He’d earned his sister’s distrust, hadn’t he? He only had himself and his poor decisions to blame, and all he could do now was do better, and work to earn her trust again.

“I promise, Pen,” he said quietly. And he meant it.

One hour later, Frederick set out from the house into the mild October weather with Gretchen, Willie and little Cathy in tow, all three children chattering excitedly at once.

It was a good day for a walk, with its mostly cloudless sky and calm, intermittent breeze. The happy brood stopped first at the widow’s cottage, where the mother of four accepted their basket of goods with harried but grateful thanks.