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“My darling, of course I do!”
“Then why is it so hard for you to hear the worries in my heart? We love each other; surely we can find a compromise.”
How frustrated and annoyed he had looked. His last pithy reply had been, “I’ll speak to the duke about this nonsense. Someone has been filling up your head with ideas that make little sense!”
Lord Owen would speak to the duke—her brother, the great and influential Duke of Hartford would bend Perdie’s will and ensure she was correct and proper in her conduct. That was what Owen expected. She could have stayed and argued, but Perdie was a woman of action. That afternoon Perdie had tried to speak with her mother about her concerns and her doubts about marrying. The duchess had told Perdie that her main duty was to see that her husband had his heir and spare; after that she would have the freedom to just be.
Another person she loved had refused to truly hear her, and Perdie had craved to go to the one place she’d found a sisterhood of love and trust—48 Berkeley Square. However, that too had been denied, for her brother without any care as to why she needed them, had ordered the owner of the secret lady’s club, Lady Theodosia Winfern, to ban Perdie.
Everything had seemed to collapse in on Perdie, and she had been unable to breathe. Such pain had wrapped its cruel arms around her body and squeezed. For the last few weeks, Perdie had been unable to escape the feelings of walls closing around her. Even now, recalling the helplessness which had smothered her brought a tight ache to her throat. Perdie had not stayed and drowned. She had walked, nay she had ran away from everything.
And without a second’s pause, Felicity had followed.
Her friend cleared her throat, pulling Perdie from the musings she preferred to avoid. Instead, Perdie focused on her friend’s face, her eyes soft with understanding and worry. Perdie hated that she was the source of that worry.
“Perhaps I’ve reconsidered,” Felicity said softly.
Perhaps Perdie had been too lost in thought to attend to the conversation. She made a questioning note in her throat.
Felicity grinned wickedly. “This Thaddeus bloke. He seems a wealthy gentleman. Honorable. He may be just what we…what you need.”
Perdie drew herself up, mouth tight. “I handled those bandits admirably on my own, I’ll thank you to notice.”
“I wasn’t speaking of the bandits. I’m speaking of healing your broken heart. It’s said the best thing when crossed in love is to indulge in a mild flirtation with another.”
Perdie glared at her. “Is that so? Pray tell, who did you hear say this?”
When her smile turned sheepish, Perdie knew she hadn’t an answer. Still, Felicity started, “Perhaps—”
“Do not suggest it.” Perdie raised her hand to forestall the suggestion. “I am not broken-hearted. I am running from one gentleman and his obstinacy; it would not do to flirt with the next obstinate gentleman I’ve met since leaving London. Why, I’d be nothing more than an inconstant lightskirt!”
“Perdie,” Felicity gasped, flushing. “Do not speak with such a cavalier attitude.”
Perdie leaned her head against the squab with a sigh, hating that Felicity was right. Her heart was breaking, but not over Lord Owen. By leaving home, she risked losing her brother and mother’s trust forever. Not to mention her reputation. But the alternative was a marriage to a gentleman she feared she no longer loved. In truth, Perdie wondered if she had loved him at all, or had she been swept away by his handsomeness and flirtations?
What really was love?A question she had asked herself numerous times for the last several days.
Perdie had been fifteen when she first fancied herself in love with Lord Owen. A lot had changed in four years, including her perspective on her place in the world. No longer was she content to play pianoforte for charmed guests or pick at needlework. She had a mind, hopes, and dreams.
And she refused to accept a husband who wouldn’t cherish both. Even if it meant giving her brother an apoplexy.
She winced at the thought of his and Mama’s worry. Hopefully, the letter she had left him would explain all. Or most of it. She was still sorting out her feelings, even now. Perdie wanted space and time to understand who she was, and why she felt like she was trapped when in truth she had so many wonderful things in her life. Perdie knew she couldn’t live on the road forever. She had to make a choice about her future and take strides to achieve it.
Perdie took a quick, steady breath. She had done the right thing.
“Say no more of it, please. I’m tired from the afternoon’s debacle.” And recalling to mind how difficult everything seems now.
She squeezed her eyes shut, swaying back and forth to the jostle of the carriage on the uneven country road, her mind still awhirl. However, as Felicity slid her warm hand into Perdie’s and gave it a squeeze, she started to relax. Without words, her friend was telling her I am here, and I support you.
That was all Perdie wanted to ask of anyone.
* * *
Rain plunkedatop the coach roof. Intermittent at first, enough that Perdie might have mistaken the sound for a falling twig. But soon the sounds came thicker, and then the carriage pulled to a stop altogether.
“Please, God, tell me we’ve arrived,” Felicity said with feeling. She was pressed up against the edge of the carriage seat, her forehead resting on the wall. She looked about to be sick.
Perdie reached for the curtains and flicked them out of the window again. The pane was smeared with rain that did little to conceal the abominable road conditions.
