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“But you have nothing to worry about. Your secrets are ours, and ours are yours,” Charity said gently.
Lady Charity, of an age with Lady Theo, who was about six and twenty, walked over and cupped Perdie’s shoulder. She was taller than Perdie, albeit not by much. This close, Perdie could count the freckles across her nose.
“Of course, all is forgiven.”
Perdie swallowed and nodded. “Do they all know the truth?”
Lady Charity hesitated before withdrawing her hand. “No. Only Theo, Prue, Lucinda, and I know of what really happened. Whether the others will be privy to that information remains up to you.” She caught Perdie’s gaze and held it. “We were worried for you.”
The ache in Perdie’s chest—whether one of relief or trepidation—made it difficult to speak. In a whisper, she said with feigned bravado, “You needn’t have worried. You ladies taught me well. I handled myself.”
At that, Lady Charity’s eyebrows winged toward her hairline. “Oh? Do tell.”
Her voice, a touch too loud, drew the attention of the other ladies in the drawing-room. Another young lady with a most vibrant personality poked her head out next.
“Do tell of what?” Lady Prudence asked.
Her hair tumbled freely around her shoulders and had the mussed look of having run her fingers through it. She looked at Perdie, bright-eyed and welcoming, beaming like the sun.
A seed of happiness took root in Perdie’s chest and blossomed through her entire body. “I was about to tell Lady Charity of how I single-handedly bested a group of highwaymen.”
Felicity snorted and said, under her breath, “Group.”
Perdie glared at her, but a smile curved her lips. “Two is a group.”
“Two is a pair.”
“How would you know how many there were? You were in the carriage the entire time.”
The ladies shuffled around. How she had missed it all. Missed them. Perdie loved the club. All the ladies were well-bred and educated. Some were wallflowers, other bluestockings, but they were all misfits in their own unique way for some reason or the other. Some of the things she loved most about the club were the dares and wicked wagers. Not that Perdie had ever participated in one. Her time spent at 48 Berkeley Square had been more as an observer, aching with the knowledge that she would not be allowed to visit once married. Theo and Sebastian’s situation was the exception, not the rule, attested by the fact that not many members were married.
She even loved the scandalous books they read and debated. Though she had only been able to sneak away for two book club meetings. Before Perdie knew it, they’d caught her by both hands and towed her into the drawing-room they occupied, others housing ladies doing various activities. A deck of cards had been haphazardly kicked over, spreading out across the carpet like a stain. The ladies sat her down and surrounded her, begging for the story as they plied her with sherry despite the early hour.
Perdie was only too willing to oblige to their delight.
By the time Perdie finished her story, she felt back in her element. Her shoes were discarded among the pile in the corner. She’d pulled her hair free from its pins and drawn her feet up on the settee. The disbelieving murmurs of some of the ladies had been silenced by a demonstration of the very moves Perdie had used to fell not only the highwaymen but Thaddeus as well. He, she had lumped in with the highwaymen in the telling, not wanting to reveal their intimate connection. Felicity didn’t contradict her, and if the tale gained a few embellishments in the telling, who did it harm?
Afterward, her cheeks hot from the wine and her eyes bright, she listened as the others filled her ears with all of the gossip she had missed while she was away. She felt warm and happy and contented in a way she never had outside of this house, not even on the road with Thaddeus. She’d missed her friends more dearly than she’d let herself contemplate.
One of the women, Lady Elizabeth, turned to Perdie with a bright smile and asked, “You received an invitation to the earl’s ball, didn’t you? I think the invitations went out a few days before you departed.”
Perdie chewed on her lower lip as she thought. Her mother handled the invitations and had not mentioned any balls. “Perhaps I did. Which earl is this?”
Lady Prue feigned a sarcastic swoon. “The new Earl of Sherburn, of course. No one in London has seen him, and it has driven every unmarried woman wild.”
Lady Charity elbowed her friend in the ribs. “Then what is your excuse? You already have an earl.”
Lady Prue smiled. “I may have an earl, but I still have ears. They are saying he is very handsome and his earldom incredibly wealthy.”
“How do they know he is handsome?” Perdie said with a snort. “I thought no one has ever seen the man.”
Lady Charity, who was seldom swept up in the admiring gossip surrounding the eligible gentleman of the ton, rolled her eyes. “He might be an old miser, for all you know.”
Lady Elizabeth interrupted. “He would be a rich old miser with a title, if he was.”
“Oh? Are you saying you would marry him even if he wasn’t young?”
At that, Lady Elizabeth pinkened. “Well, of course, I would prefer a husband my own age….”
