Chapter 2 #2
“Keep your secret, then—at least for today. I don’t want to invite more trouble. Their being here is my fault,” she whispered. “I should have written my mother back. But there was more gossip than there was time—”
“Yes. This is all your fault,” Perry added in a lightly teasing voice. “There was all that time wasted between the riot and your kidnapping, after all.”
Charity stiffened, her eyes hooding slightly in impudence. “What wasted time?” she asked bitingly. “Those hours I spent in—at Vauxhall?”
“Coward.” He let his lip curl in gentle amusement. “Do not think I missed what you were going to say. I am rather confident you didn’t consider the hours in my bed wasted at the time.”
Charity flushed prettily, and she lifted her hands to cover her cheeks. It eased Perry to see her mood lift at least enough to chaff him back. “I may revise my opinion yet. Anyway, it was too late to write them by then.”
“Ah. Then clearly you should have written them sometime while I was feverish in the next room. Can you imagine what your mama would have spluttered about that?”
“Oh, with perfect clarity. The priest would have been hauled in to marry us with you still lying in the bed.” Charity dropped her hands, her slight smile fading. “That would have been especially awkward, given that within the day, you hated me.”
“Not my finest hour. I was blinded by hurt, and I am not too proud to admit it. After everything we had been through, it was agony to believe you still did not trust me.” Peregrine tucked a fallen strand of her hair over her ear, trailing his fingertips along her throat to rest on her collarbone.
“I was so frustrated when I found someone else standing on my neck every time I earned my way free. And I was… humiliated by all these failings.”
She moved in again to rest her forehead against his shoulder, leaning into his touch. “You are the only person I trust without reservation.”
His stomach fluttered. “I’d wager you did not imagine you would ever say such a thing when you were glaring at me at Prinny’s soiree last month, did you?”
“Absolutely not.” Charity huffed. “I am sorry. You are comforting me when you are just as upset as I am.”
His lips curved. “We’re comforting each other, and only one of us is allowed to be beside themselves at a time.”
“Is that a rule?” She laughed almost soundlessly, her shoulders shaking. “And you decided it was my turn? That was kind of you.”
“A practical one,” he corrected her. “Because if both of us are in a taking, you won’t hold me by my cravat and prevent me from taking exception to your father’s behaviour.
And that would be regrettable. If I have to be thrown in gaol for anything I did at this event, I would ensure I earned it fairly with a better, more important target than your father. ”
Charity huffed agreement. “Don’t get yourself thrown in gaol. Not for anything. What a disaster, and on a day that should be about you.”
“My birthday has not been all bad,” he murmured in her ear, inhaling her scent deeply.
“The most beautiful woman in England asked me to stand beside her. I got to see the look upon my mother’s face when she realised I was still alive despite her efforts.
And while I might wish she were anywhere else right now, at least we now know exactly where she is. ”
“Practical.” Charity’s muffled word sounded more like herself. “But why bother to bring back the dagger? Everyone important knows the truth.”
“For the same reasons she destroyed all traces of her underworld empire. The Queen may try to investigate, but without evidence, it will be difficult to stop her. My mother will be able to resume her position, if that is what she wishes to do, and accuse truth-tellers of spreading slander. Duke Chandros said as much himself, right before he tried to bring the building down upon our heads. With the proof gone, the truth dies, and the false story left behind becomes the only one that matters. Now Marian is free to write whatever story she needs to suit.”
Charity jerked in his arms, and she lifted her head again. “Do you suppose she would stay when Russia leaves? Would it suit her needs?”
He lowered his gaze, thinking. “Possibly? It muddies the waters, if nothing else. We don’t have enough information to begin looking for her plot.”
“But you think there is one.”
Perry nodded reluctantly. “Of course. My mother has never done anything by half measures. The timing of everything that has happened is so clearly by design. But… why?”
The hesitant clearing of a throat behind him had Peregrine release Charity, whirling around.
“Duchess, Canary.” Lord Ravenscroft stood there, looking uncertain. “I would like to make some crack about interrupting your dalliances, but wit is in thin supply this day.”
Marian Fitzroy’s sudden appearance, it seemed, wasn’t only their own nightmare come to life. The older lord looked worn.
The magpie might be a collector of secrets, but Marian also knew the one that would destroy him utterly. Despite his reputation as a rake, Ravenscroft was also guilty of loving a man.
“The Regent, of course, is occupied with matters of state. So the Queen is convening a rather impromptu war council in her apartments for now,” Ravenscroft told them. “Will you come?”
“Of course,” Charity answered quickly, wiping at her face.
“Yes, well. Perry…” The man trailed off again, dithering. “Later, at your home, you will find a gift I sent you for your birthday. Now I think it might have been poorly chosen. Forgive me for that, will you?”
Abruptly, Ravenscroft turned to lead them upstairs, and Charity stared after him. “Goodness. I can’t help but wonder. What did he send?”