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“Why, his brutish and unrefined—”
“Lord Sherburn has manners every bit as polished as any other gentleman,” Perdie interjected, a fierce protectiveness burning inside her chest.
“Well,” Lady Judith said primly. “Your defense of him was rather quick.”
An unwelcome blush crept in Perdie’s cheek. “Your attack was unwarranted and uncalled for; I only spoke the truth of the matter.”
Perdie tried to contain herself as ladies turned to her and begged her for more details about the earl.
She had none to give. At least, none that she cared to share. Despite her closeness with the ladies, Perdie wasn’t likely to share about their journey alone together or those stolen moments with him in the folly.
And she was certainly not going to tell them about the note currently weighing down her reticule. Perdie’s feelings for Thaddeus were far too complicated for her to air, even to friends as dear as these. For all she knew, they would never see each other again.
Though now that they were both in London, both circulating in the same social circles, it seemed far less likely. And the sooner she decided what to do with her unruly emotions where Thaddeus was concerned, the better. Preferably before she had to face him again.
If only she would be so lucky.
Perdie was exhausted.Her body hummed with the excitement of the morning, with having to dance around her friends’ questions, providing the answers that they sought without revealing too much into her association with Thaddeus. She couldn’t even call him Thaddeus aloud. Lord Sherburn—that was the name he had to bear in front of the ladies of 48 Berkeley Square. Never mind that he would never be anything other than Thaddeus, to her.
Despite the threads of vague answers weaving in with the truth and the incessant teasing Perdie left in her wake, as she stepped along the cobblestones away from Berkeley Square, she smiled to herself. The day was uncommonly mild, barely cool enough to warrant a shawl and with the sun peeking its head from between the clouds. The brim of her bonnet shaded her face, but as the sun broke free again she surrendered to the urge to lift her face up to the sky. The sunlight warmed the bridge of her nose before Felicity clucked her tongue and bent Perdie’s head down forcibly.
“You’ll get freckles,” she warned.
“And why would that bother me? They seem to be doing very well for Lady Charity.”
“Lady Charity doesn’t have a mother who will slather cosmetics onto her face. The ones that leave you with a rash afterward.”
Perdie wrinkled her nose as the sun disappeared behind the clouds again. She hated stepping out of 48 Berkeley Square because it meant arming herself for every feather-brained concern that her mother would demand of her. Fortunately, she had Felicity to remind her.
Perdie rolled her eyes. “I wish we were on the road again and these concerns didn’t signify. What should it matter to anyone if my skin isn’t lily-white and there are freckles on my nose?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I’ve always thought freckles look distinguished.” Felicity fingered the edge of her own nose, where a few errant beauty marks peppered her skin. Felicity glanced behind them and with a slight tilt of her lips, nudged Perdie with her elbow. “I think you’re about to get your wish to return to the road. But don’t count on me to leave with you this time. I think you’ll have everything well in hand on your own.”
Perdie frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
The clatter of carriage wheels and horse hooves on the cobblestones could be heard from one end of London to the other. Perdie was so accustomed to the sound that she usually didn’t think on it. However, as the sound of hooves slowed and a beast gave a mighty snort, the carriage—a sleek phaeton with a single man as its driver—paused alongside her and Felicity. She had half a mind to carry on, but for preservation’s sake, she glanced at the driver out of the corner of her eye.
And abruptly lost control over her feet. If her arm hadn’t been linked with Felicity’s, she might have fallen sprawled on the street. Every other minute of the day she managed to be graceful, but the one moment that Thaddeus came upon them unexpectedly, she lost all power to her limbs.
And apparently, her tongue. Her breath quickened and her cheeks warmed. “Let me guess, Your Lordship. You’ve just purchased a new phaeton and pony and wish to show them off to advantage.”
Thaddeus wrapped the reins around one fist and turned in the driver seat—a padded bench only big enough for two and even then, with precious little room to spare between them—to look at her with a frown. His topper slipped down an inch to shadow his eyes.
“No, actually. I inherited this rig from my uncle.”
“Oh.”
Of course, she couldn’t think of anything more eloquent to say at a time like this.
Beside her, Felicity stifled a giggle. It sounded like she was gasping for breath.
“Nice to see you again, Miss Felicity.”
Her eyes around with innocence, Felicity said, “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean, my lord. I’ve never met you before in my life.”
Thaddeus cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat. “Right. Of course.”
Perdie smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Lord Sherburn. Do you live on Berkeley Square?”
