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Perdie whirled on her brother. Despite the difference in their ages, the family resemblance was as plain as the steely way they held their jaws when angry. “That is not your place. The Earl of Sherburn has come to see me, and I’ll be the one who says whether or not he is dismissed.”
The duke narrowed his eyes. “You have a wedding to prepare for.”
She snapped, “I do not.” And turned. She nearly flung herself into Thaddeus’s arms. At the last moment, she hugged herself and took a step away from him, gaze lowered.
He stepped closer, ignoring her brother. Ignoring the servants who were probably clustering at doorways in an effort to eavesdrop on this conversation. He stepped close enough to slide his finger beneath her chin and tilt up her gaze to meet his. He searched her face.
“It was a misunderstanding?”
“Yes. He pushed me into the room. He must have arranged for us to be found.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Thaddeus’s brogue thickened, his voice soft and lethal.
Perdie sniffed. “As if he could. You know I can defend myself.”
He nodded slowly. That, he knew, but it was clear she was rattled from the encounter. Her family was trying to back her into a corner. He offered her the escape.
“I’ll marry you,” he said, as much a question as a suggestion. “My offer from before stands. The honeymoon, the time in London, anything you’d like.”
Her bottom lip trembled. She caught it between her teeth before she met his gaze. “If I don’t want children?”
He frowned. Trying to pitch his voice low enough that her brother wouldn’t overhear, he whispered, “Perdie, you may be pregnant already. We’ve lain together twice now.”
Her complexion blanched. “What?”
Suddenly she seemed her age—an incredibly young and naïve nineteen-year-old girl. Hell. Thaddeus could see that it never occurred to her their loving might have allowed her to fall pregnant. A state she seemed petrified of. He reached out to run his thumb over her cheek, uncaring her brother watched them with a hawklike stare.
She pulled away. “No. I—” she shook her head. “No. I told you, I don’t want to marry.” She turned on her brother. Tears in her eyes, she added, “I don’t want to marry anybody, and by God I will not be forced.”
Her words were like a stab to the gut. Thaddeus couldn’t speak a word.
Her brother reached out a hand, his face stony. “Perdie, be reasonable.”
She backed away from them both. “I am reasonable. And perfectly able to make my own choices. You need to learn to accept them. Both of you.” She took another step back and added in a quavering voice, “I will not be manipulated into marrying anybody. I would rather be ruined.”
She turned. Thaddeus reached out a hand, but she was too far away to catch. “Perdie—”
“Leave me alone, Thaddeus.” Her voice broke and fresh tears sprang in her eyes. “There is nothing here for you…not with me.”
She bolted deeper into the townhouse. For a second, he considered following despite her parting words, but her brother shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest, a solid blockade.
It didn’t matter even if he did catch her. He’d been a fool to think he could change her mind. From the very moment they’d met, she made herself viciously clear regarding her thoughts of marriage. He’d thought her aversion lay in the stipulations her former fiancé had refused to meet. But that wasn’t it at all. If promising her the world wouldn’t convince her to marry, if the thought of her potential pregnancy wouldn’t convince her to marry him, then he might not be able to convince her at all.
Of course, for she had been led to believe marriage and children were somehow bonds of misery, where her identity and will would be stolen and controlled. She wanted to live life unfettered. Their kisses and loving were Perdie’s way of exploring more of the world she was denied.
He loved her. He understood her. And he knew enough that he had lost her. Chasing her would be foolish and a lost cause. Thaddeus looked at her brother, who appeared no more friendly to him now the argument was through.
“That’s quite the Scottish brogue you have there.” His expression was assessing.
Many Londoners took issue with Scotsmen. He cleared his throat and chose his words—with his Cambridge accent—carefully. “An old habit.” He looked down the corridor, but Perdie was already long out of sight. “If she changes her mind…”
He didn’t complete that sentence, because he knew it was only more wishful thinking. Thaddeus had fought for her hand.
He had lost.
