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“But my dear, you pleaded for that marriage despite us wanting to give you a season to make a proper debut before entering into it. Don’t you recall?”
Perdie recalled her own youthful mistakes too well. “That was two years ago, Mama. I have changed.”
Her mother fisted her hand on her knee. “What did you demand of Lord Owen?”
As if she were the unreasonable party.
She drew herself up. “That is none of your concern. Suffice it to say that my engagement is over. If it or my abrupt departure has reflected at all upon my reputation and the reputation of this family, then please accept my apologies. I’ll return to the cottage if I’m no longer welcome here or in London.”
From there, she could decide where to go next. She couldn’t stay at her grandmother’s cottage indefinitely, not with the frightful and wonderful new memories imprinted there.
“Your reputation isn’t harmed,” Mama spoke those words like a death knell.
Perdie’s knees quaked. She conquered the urge to sit down and clasped her hands behind her. “It isn’t?”
Mama brushed her hand through the air, batting aside the idea. “Goodness, no. You are the daughter of a duke. And besides, you cast him off. It’s perfectly acceptable for a young lady to cast off her betrothed, even though it does lead to wagging tongues. It would have been less favorable had he been the one to end the arrangement; but still, we would have weathered it. I have enough influence to see to that.”
That was one small mercy, at least.
“At least, so long as no one ever learns you traveled alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. I had Felicity.”
“A chaperone is not a suitable escort to hare off goodness-only-knows-where! You were irresponsible in leaving, and I swear you’ve aged your brother and I ten years in this mad escapade. Anything could have happened, Perdie. Anything. I trust you have enough sense not to do something of the sort again.”
Perdie lost her battle with defiance and looked down. “Of course not.”
The rustle of fabric was the only warning Perdie had before her mother slipped her fingers beneath Perdie’s chin and raised it. Her eyes were like steel in a face that could have been carved of marble. “Good. Then it’s time you started acting like a woman befitting your lineage. Chin up. Shoulders back.”
Perdie corrected her posture. She bit the inside of her cheek, struggling not to cry.
“I put it around that you were visiting a sick relative in the country. Do not contradict me. No one suspects there was any falling out between you and the family. And if anyone gives you the cut direct, they will answer to me.”
The dowager duchess was still powerful in her own right.
Perdie shut her eyes, unable to stem the flow of tears any longer. She sniffled and found a handkerchief in her bodice to dab at her nose. “And the engagement?”
“You broke that yourself. I do hope you’ll reconsider, but that’s for you and Sebastian to decide.”
She hadn’t realized how relieved she would feel until this moment when the air was cleared between her and her family. She shut her eyes against a fresh wave of tears. “Thank you, Mama. But it will be my decision only.”
For the second time since she’d come home, Mama embraced her. It was less desperate than the first, more befitting the rigid standards to which the duchess held herself. “Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your complexion.”
Perdie gave a muffled laugh.
So quietly, she almost didn’t catch the words, Mama added, “Please don’t ever scare us like that again.”
“I won’t,” she promised. This time, it was a promise she meant to keep.
