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Chapter Eleven
Thaddeus woke to the damp smell of rain. His skin was chilled. His cheek pressed into something soft and musty. Something else dug into his ribs—a woman's stays, as he discovered when he sat up. There was no sign of the woman herself, aside from a couple discarded articles of clothing. His heart jumped into his throat. Still clutching the stays, he shoved himself to his feet. He redressed and combed his fingers through his hair as he searched for and hid all of the evidence of their lovemaking. And there, on the steps leading up to the folly, was a piece of cloth from her gown. It might have hitched on something, and she did not even realize it. That told him she had fled with great haste.
Like a dazed fool, he picked up the tiny piece of cloth. Thaddeus held it in his hands, gut twisting, as he squinted through the gloom to try to guess the time. Not full night. Past that, maybe. He heard a lone robin in the symphony of bird calls around him. He shut his eyes, trying to hear past the beat of his own heart to identify the other bird calls around him. Warblers, whitethroats, goldfinches. Was that a Great Tit, perhaps? The robin did not call again.
That told him it was past dawn. Thaddeus had been more tired than he had realized to sleep through the night on the chaise. On their journey he had slept light at the inns, vigilant in the event any ruffians slipped down the corridor to sneak into the ladies’ room, so he would be aware enough to protect them. With a sigh he opened his eyes and craned his face up to the sky. Clouds still thickly covered the sky, making it difficult to tell from which direction the ambient light came. The house, at the other end of that baffling labyrinth, held pinpricks of light in the windows. Someone in the house was awake. Had Perdie woken and decided to go inside, where she would be warm? He wouldn't fault her for that, except…
Why hadn’t she woken him? Why hadn’t she fully dressed? The entire time he’d known her, she'd worn those breeches beneath her clothes like an act of rebellion. For her to leave them behind boded ill.
Before he thought twice about it, he started down the steps. He tried not to twist the breeches when he so desperately wanted to do something with his hands to release the frustration he felt. Despite passing through the gardens a few hours before, he decided to go around. Better that than find himself hopelessly lost without her.
Even if that was how he felt.
Where had he gone wrong? He’d lost his head, let passion take them too far, to be sure. But even if he hadn’t wanted to stop, he’d taken every opportunity to ensure she made the decision to carry on with him. Oh, how she’d flown. She dug her fingers into his back and wrapped her legs around his hips and moved with him. The thought would have stoked his blood, had he woken next to her.
Without her, the memory seemed tawdry.
Somewhere, they had misread each other. He had stumbled. Erred. But he’d told her he would make it right. He’d promised to marry her, and that wasn’t a promise he took lightly. Hell and damnation, in his heart, he’d felt married to her from the moment she’d proclaimed them man and wife. But Perdie saw things differently. Maybe she wanted to be courted. Flowers, carriage rides, and the like.
He recalled how she had stiffened when he had promised to marry her. And what had she said? It must be when I am ready and to a man who will not limit my dreams.
If that was what she wanted, he would give it to her. The year’s travel, several years in London, and anything else she asked. It would be hers. He only had to face her and tell her he was different from her good-for-nothing fiancé.
The house came into view, and he lengthened his stride. Before he thought better of it, he loped up to the front door and knocked. At first, no one answered. He gritted his teeth and banged against the door again, louder.
A plump woman with a shock of red hair peeking from beneath a lace cap answered the door with a scowl. “Yes, sir? What business have you here?”
It was not the most welcoming of greetings. Then again, he was clad in no more than his shirtsleeves and breeches, far from the usual accouterments of a man of his station.
He decided to dispense with politeness. “I must speak with Lady Perdie. It is most urgent. If you will let her know she has a caller.”
The woman drew herself up, even though she stood no taller than his chin. “I’m afraid the lady of the house is not at home.”
He fought not to growl under his breath. “I know she’s in. She’ll want to speak to me.” In proof, he waved the breeches he still held. Badly done of him, but it might shock this bulldog to call her mistress. Something warned him he should stay and fight to see her now. Even though it was tempting to return to the inn, don the full raiment of a gentleman of leisure and return.
He might be too late then. Thaddeus felt it in his gut.
The woman—the housekeeper, no doubt—snatched the breeches from his grip and held it to her chest. She treated him to a scandalized glare. “Where did you find this?”
“It was in the folly.” The truth was out before he could think better of it. He fought not to wince. Should the servants go looking, they would find the hasty hiding place he’d found for Perdie’s clothes. Better he hadn’t said anything. Too late to take the words back.
He would make it right. He would marry her. No one would care about the scandal then.
The housekeeper turned up her nose at him. “And who are you to be tripping over the grounds without invitation? I must insist you leave, sir. At once.”
“I’m a friend of Lady Perdie’s. I must speak with her.”
He tried to take a step forward, but the woman would not budge. Perdie’s brother must have hired a general for a housekeeper.
“Leave, sir, or I will call the men. Lady Perdita, as I have said, is not at home. She left late last night.”
Left?His stomach dropped, and the world spun around him. “That can’t be.”
The housekeeper glared at him. “Yes, our young lady departed last night. In quite a bit of hurry too, which is to be expected if she had the likes of you hounding her. A friend? Rubbish! And I am the Duchess of Hartford. Now, will you be gone, or…”
“Where…where, if you will be so kind to tell me where she is headed?”
A thunderous look crossed her face. “Why I never! I will not!”
