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Chapter Nineteen
Perdie danced on air throughout the next social event. The candlelight, the champagne, everything seemed brighter and more effervescent. Small things, such as playing the biddable miss in company, didn’t irk her nearly as much as usual. She smiled too much, laughed too loud, and tucked her cares away for another day.
Lord Owen offered to escort her to the card room and Perdie balked. However, her mother accepted on her behalf. A protest rose on her lips, and assessing the look on her mother’s face, Perdie sighed. There were days she feared her mother still yearned for their alliance. She hinted at it often enough, and the dowager duchess knew Lord Owen still sent her flowers, albeit without the poetry, knowing that although she returned correspondence, the flowers at least would remain in her townhouse. She gave them to Hattie, Felicity, and on occasion, the housekeeper.
Perdie swallowed all ire, knowing what her mother silently asked. Be polite. And kind. The eyes of the ton were indeed upon them. Perdie allowed him to lead her from the crush of the ballroom. Tonight, Lord Owen seemed to have inherited some sense, because he hadn’t even asked her to dance. She was saving the first one for Thaddeus, and even though he was late tonight, she didn’t consider dancing with any other man. But a card game, that she could use to pass the time until Thaddeus’s arrival.
Lord Owen appeared more familiar with this manse than she, because he led her down the corridor without hesitation. She would have chosen the opposite direction, being better lit, but she couldn’t recall attending another event at this townhouse, so she deferred to him.
When he led her not into a brightly lit, well-occupied card room but into an unlit, disused study, she balked in the doorway.
“This isn’t the card room. Why—”
He used his hold on her hand, still affixed to his sleeve, to tug her into the room proper. She stumbled, grateful that he had left the door open, which at least let in some scant light. However, now he was between her and the door, the light haloing him and leaving his expression dark.
Her heart beat in her throat in a most uncomfortable way. She drew herself up, distributing her weight on her legs in a subtle defensive position. “Lord Owen, you forget yourself!”
“Do I? I only want an explanation from you, something you haven’t offered me since breaking our engagement. Mere weeks ago, you were warm toward me, excited to be my bride. Then that all changed, and I think I deserve to know why.”
Perdie’s breath lifted on a harsh rasp. “I will plant a facer on you if you do not move this instant!”
“No,” he said, his chin setting at a stubborn angle.
She’d offered him the only explanation that wouldn’t cause him grievous offense—that they no longer suited, which was true. The full truth was more complicated than that, and Perdie could barely begin to express it to herself, let alone to another person. Her family had accepted her broken engagement readily enough, even if her mother continued to make it known how desirable she considered an alliance between their family and Lord Owen’s. But Perdie, even if she was a duke’s sister, didn’t want to marry for the pleasure of an alliance. Or at least, if she must at some point, she didn’t want to do so at the age of nineteen.
Never mind that marriage would put a stop to the stolen kisses she took from Thaddeus.
He would marry you.
She pushed down the swell of panic as it welled up in her. She was finally free, choosing her own path with friends that supported her, even if they didn’t know the extent to which she’d spent time alone with the new Earl of Sherburn.
She pressed her lips together and gathered her words. “I don’t want to offend you.”
“You have,” he snapped. “Me and my family. My family has been nothing but kind to you, even when you’ve been a bit headstrong.”
She gritted her teeth. “Let’s not drag our families’ wishes into this. The fact that you are willing to, that you cherished your mother’s wishes over mine, is what led to our broken engagement. I’ve had a lot of time to think since then, and I made the right decision. You’re a good man, and you’ll find somebody else.”
He took another step forward, crowding her. Slowly, she slid her foot back and bent her knee, leaning most of her weight on her back foot. Her own words echoed in her ears. You’re a good man. But she couldn’t fight instincts that clamored that she might be in danger, alone with him.
“I don’t want another woman. I want you. Is this reticence on your part simply so that you can gallivant around with whatever gentlemen you please? I’ll not have a faithless wife and you know it.”
Perdie clenched her fists. Her mouth tasted bitter. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean.”
Darkly, Lord Owen said, “You know precisely what I mean. I saw you kissing the Earl of Sherburn. How many other men have you kissed while we were engaged?”
Perdie didn’t care that she was leaning forward, pressing into Lord Owen’s space. She rose on the balls of her feet, to shorten the distance between their eyes. She wanted him to have no advantage over her, not even one of height. “Frankly, as we are not engaged, it is not any of your concern with whom I choose to keep company.”
He laughed, but it was mocking rather than mirthful. “Keeping company? Is that what you call it?” He shook his head in disgust. “What happened between us, Perdie? We were engaged. We have history.”
He leaned forward, and even though it was a sign of weakness, she backed away. He wasn’t afraid of crowding her personal space. And she feared that if she wasn’t careful, he might choose to kiss her himself to prove a point. They were utterly alone, in a room no one expected anyone to frequent. If not for the skills her friends had taught her, she would have been very wary indeed.
As it was, if Lord Owen thought to take advantage of her, he was going to get a violent surprise. And damn the scandal that would follow.
“I don’t owe you any explanations. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure my mother is wondering where I am.”
She tried to sidestep him, but he blocked her. He crowded her again. “Oh, I think you do owe me an explanation. I think you owe me a wedding.”
She dropped her icy facade as fury tore through her. “You presume too much, Lord Owen. Perhaps I favored you once with my company, but I will no longer. I cannot see how I can make myself any clearer.” This man was either daft or obsessed. Either way it was becoming tiresome.
