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Chapter One
The hands that held the letter trembled, and Lady Perdita Anya Crawford took a slow breath. Her façade of contentment and cheerful demeanor she had affected for her brother and mother’s benefit these last few days was crumbling. What had happened to the level-headed, biddable young lady of yesterday? She had endured too much pain and disappointment and could no longer stay in town and be a part of the season. Perdie needed space to breathe, to think, and to once more hope and dream.
She allowed herself to read the letter she would entrust a footman to deliver to her brother—the Duke of Hartford, a most formidable and uncompromising man.
Dearest brother,
I have gone away for a while. It is best you do not search for me, because I am not lost. I am simply and unwaveringly decided. Lately, I feel like a blanket has been smothering me, and I dare not try and breathe around it. I need space to reflect on my thoughts and the leanings of my heart. I suspect your hand in Lady Theo turning me away from a place that has been a second home to me. My heart feels shredded, and it is through discourse with Theo I comprehend how important it is to fully understand myself, my hopes, and dreams, in regard to living my life, lest I make a mistake that I will not be able to recover from. I do not wish to live an unhappy life heavy with regrets.
This was not a decision I lightly entered. I have sold my jewelries and have fetched a very handsome sum for them. Please be assured I do have enough money to last for two years or more with some economic practice. Please know that is not to say I will be gone for that long. Miss Felicity and Hattie have accompanied me, so I am not alone. I’ve rented a most handsome cottage and assumed the identity of a widow to render my living alone respectable. I will also hire the proper servants for the cottage. There should be no scandal attached to me leaving London as I have not told anyone of my plans, not even my closest friends I’ve met since in town.
As for Lord Owen, I am not determined as yet to marry him. Please know I was very sincere in my love for him, and I still hold immeasurable love for him. I cannot ignore that he has turned a deaf ear to the desires in my heart, and I cannot continue to forge a path with a man who has so little consideration for my feelings. I implore you to cancel all matters of engagement between us, and I am sorry I could only tell you this in a letter. I feared you would insist I honor my word to marry the viscount, and I regret that I am not brave enough to face your censure and explain myself.
As soon as I am more settled, I will send you and mama another letter. Sadly, I cannot provide you with a return address, as you will descend upon me and demand I return home. I love you, brother, and I beseech you to grant me this time so I might find my wings.
Lovingly yours, Perdie.
Perdie was almost sick with the struggle within her. However, she took a steady breath and turned to face the waiting footman. “You will hand this note to the Duke of Hartford at precisely midnight,” Perdie instructed, slipping him several coins.
“Yes, my lady, at midnight.”
Perdie hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. She slipped him another piece of paper. “If the duke is not here, you will see that it is delivered to this address.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Perdie then strolled outside of Lady Wycliffe’s ball and toward the unmarked carriage waiting a few houses down. A head pushed out of the carriage window, and some of the anxiousness eased in Perdie’s heart to see Felicity waiting for her. Even Hattie, Perdie’s maid, was already seated in the driver’s seat.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and Perdie wiped them away. A vague memory of a time when she had fallen out of an apple tree rose in her thoughts. Her father had picked her up, kissed her bruised knees and lovingly murmured, “Courage, my dear, Perdita. Courage always.”
And she whispered the same words to herself now as she walked toward what might be the biggest mistake of her life or the best decision she might ever make.
The next evening…
Even after crawlingthrough the tall grass on his belly—so very slowly, so as not to alert the parties of the tableau unfolding before him as he positioned himself at a better angle to analyze said tableau—Thaddeus Liam McPherson did not understand the scene. A girl of no more than sixteen summers stood amongst the lush, green countryside of Hertfordshire, facing down two highwaymen with a lifted chin and endearing arrogance. The lass was petite; the top of her pretty head would barely clear Thaddeus’s shoulder.
The two men were brawny but unkempt, coal miners perhaps, and wore dark clothes that had seen better days and filthy handkerchiefs tied over their lower faces. One held a shovel and the other a pistol. Both brandished their weapons menacingly in the lass’s direction. Sensibly, she took mincing steps away from them, apparently unnoticed by the villains.
Her efforts at escape wouldn’t remain unnoticed for long. Thaddeus had to rescue her. More difficult yet, he had to do it without a hair on her head coming to harm. She might be a stranger, but he had six sisters. If any of them were caught in such a dangerous situation, he would hope some other man would be nearby to come to their rescue. Though he also hoped they had the prudence to be frightened when faced with the prospect of losing their virtues and perhaps their lives. Unlike this lass. If Thaddeus read the scene correctly, the lass refused to part with her valuables.
“Hand ‘em over,” one of the men growled, waving his shovel.
“I fear I must disappoint you, good sir,” she replied. Her words were cautious, but her gaze moved between the highwaymen in a calculating fashion. “The monies and jewelry I have are to see me situated for the rather bleak future. I am afraid I cannot part with any of it.”
As the men exchanged greedy glances, Thad cursed virulently under his breath. The bandits had only guessed at her wealth upon approaching her. She had so blithely confirmed that she had jewelry and money. They would never carry on now empty-handed. The lass was more than wet behind the ears.
Where were her coachman and the footman who had driven the carriage? Or the lady’s chaperone? He needed only one glance to confirm she was a lady of quality. Although simple, her mode of dress was elegant and expensive, her tone crisp with the accent of those from the upper crust of English society. If he concentrated, he could tell which year her yellow high-waist gown with its peach ribbons was designed and probably name the style of her bonnet. His sisters were most instructive when least required, and he was always obliged to fondly listen to their conversations. This young lady was most definitely quality. That she traveled alone made no sense.
“We will shoot you,” the smaller man with beady eyes warned as he advanced. His tone was ominous. Not a bluff—a promise.
This was the first he’d spoken. An icy warning whispered over Thaddeus’s skin like a cold breeze. This man was the more dangerous of the two. And he was the one with the bloody pistol.
“Not only is she bonny, but I also ken she is verra brave,” Lionel, Thaddeus’s fourteen-year-old lad training to be his man, muttered. “Look at those big brutes, and she ain’t shaking.”
“More foolish than brave,” Thaddeus replied through gritted teeth. He could have done without the distraction. “It’s better for her to hand over her money and jewelry than lose her blasted life.”
“Are we to rescue her?”
“For what other reason would we be crawling on our bellies through the grass? I’m only waiting for the most opportune moment to attack. If we’re not careful, they’ll panic and harm the girl.” Thaddeus clenched his fist. “Those blackguards need to be taught a lesson for frightening a young girl in this manner.”
