Chapter 5
“We never live; we are always in the expectation of living.”
—Voltaire
Charity’s breath caught in her throat, her voice lost to shock.
Had he heard the words she had spoken to her father?
Was he calling her bluff? She searched his face for any flicker that this was in jest, but she found only hope shining in his eyes, so fragile and exposed that it made her heart ache.
He may have commanded it, but below his smile was just the barest trace of uncertainty, because he knew there were real reasons for her to decline. They had never discussed their future. And if she decided to marry him, she would have to give up her title. She would no longer be the Duchess Atholl.
Most people of their station wouldn’t—or couldn’t—sacrifice such things for love. Charity’s marriage had bought her protection she had sorely needed last year. But the one thing that Selina and the Order had done was prove power could exist beyond a title.
As for her parents—
Her stomach soured as she remembered the expressions on their faces.
There was a chance they would cut her dead if she married Perry.
They might interpret an act of love as one of rebellion.
But before her sat the man of her dreams, laying himself vulnerable, wrapping everything she wanted in the silk of a playful command.
A future of her own choosing. And he was waiting for an answer.
For once, there were no voices speaking in her head. All the words were coming from her heart—and that belonged to him. I will always choose you. Over and over again.
She had let her astonishment stretch a moment too long. The light in his eyes began to dull, and that more than anything forced the words from her lips.
“Perry,” she whispered urgently. She crossed the space between them in a single, breathless rush, flinging her arms around his neck as she pressed her cheek to his. “Yes,” she said, her voice cracking with the force of it. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
His arms reached around her, pulling her close. She felt the tremble in him as he shakily breathed her in. “I thought you might say no, because it would cause trouble with your parents.”
It humbled her, this power he gave her over him and his happiness. She had not known it was possible for one’s love to deepen, until this moment. It spread through her veins, growing and expanding until every inch of her soul overflowed with it.
“There must be some solution. We will figure out how to deal with them later,” she murmured, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “I will fight to the end of days to stay with you.”
“Let us hope we will find some peace before that,” he whispered.
He tipped his gaze down, and his hands rose to cup her face, leaning back just enough that his wide eyes gazed upon her as if she were a priceless treasure—something he could hardly believe was real.
His fingers skimmed over her cheeks, and with a tenderness that ate at her breastbone, he brushed away the tears she hadn’t realised she was shedding.
Slowly, he kissed her brow, then the tip of her nose.
His lips feathered over her cheeks and eyelids, worshiping her every feature.
It mattered not that they were in a carriage riding through busy streets; every other consideration fell away.
Everything, other than the burning exultation Perry elicited when his skin touched hers. His mouth. His fingertips.
She wanted to spend the rest of her life with the man, starting that very moment.
The road, however, had other plans. The carriage wheel dipped into a deep rut, jostling the pair and nearly tossing Charity from her seat.
Had Perry not been keeping such a tight hold on her, she would have found herself sprawled on the floor.
Then again… part of her wished she had tumbled down, so that he might have followed.
“Sparkles, you are blushing,” Perry teased gently, helping her resettle on the cushioned seat. “I wonder what you were thinking.”
“Take me on a honeymoon after all this is finished, and I will be happy to demonstrate exactly what I imagined,” she replied cheekily.
Perry lifted his eyebrows, caught so unprepared by her comment that he burst out laughing—the full, unreserved sound she seldom heard.
“I want to make you do that again. Make you laugh like that,” she murmured, finally feeling shy. “It would be nice to be someone who can make you forget your worries.”
“You already are,” he told her, pressing a gentle kiss to the point where her pulse fluttered in her throat. “When you look at me, the way you are right now, I cannot be bothered to remember that anyone else exists.”
Charity sobered then, as the joy of his proposal waned and she allowed herself to remember that there was one person they could not afford to forget for very long.
“We could go to the Queen tomorrow, before we are required to attend the Drawing Room at St James’s. I will send her a request for an audience.” Charity’s brow creased as she considered what else she needed to do. “I must send for Miller to come with appropriate clothing as well.”
“Not the Queen,” Perry said quickly.
“You cannot mean to ask the Archbishop. He will demand an explanation, and I rather doubt your mother will suffice. He’ll think we’ve both taken leave of our senses. Queen Charlotte, at least, will understand the necessity.”
“I am sure she would help us,” Perry agreed, “but her assistance will come at a cost. The Queen would never miss such an excellent opportunity to bind our loyalty.”
He made a fair point. “But then, who do we ask?”
“Truthfully, I had Prinny in mind.” Perry had a faraway look on his face while he considered the options. “For all his other flaws, the Regent has always been willing to come to my aid.”
That gave her pause. “Really?”
Charity rarely gave the Regent much concern, as closely tied to the Queen as she was. But Perry spoke the truth. Prinny had abandoned his evening plans at least three times at Peregrine’s request. “Why is that?” she asked. “Why do you and Prinny have this strange camaraderie?”
Peregrine cocked his head, as though he had never given it much consideration. “I suppose we understand one another. We both live in the shadow of a ruthless mother.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, almost laughing. “If the Queen finds out you compared her to Lady Fitzroy, she might also try to arrange your untimely death.” Perry’s eyes twinkled. “But… will you be able to have a word with him? The sovereigns will be keeping him occupied.”
“Prinny makes time for things when he wishes to,” was all he said. “And he will do this; he has a vested interest in keeping us on his side.”
When they arrived at the estate, Perry’s butler met them at the front door. “There have been… developments. I want to speak with all the staff in half an hour’s time below stairs,” Peregrine told Quinn.
Like Hodges, Quinn seemed to sense something was amiss. But his eyes only narrowed consideringly before he inclined his head. “Of course. And a package arrived for you from Lord Ravenscroft. I had it put in your study. Perhaps my lord will be able to advise on a… more permanent location.”
Peregrine frowned; Quinn’s voice was flat and almost censorious. But he escorted Charity towards his study. A study, Charity happened to notice, that had none of her love’s personality. Had Lady Fitzroy controlled even what should have been his inner sanctum?
Given that his desk was tidy, it was easy to spot the thing out of place on the felt: a large, boxy thing covered with a cloth. Both of them stared at it for a moment, wondering what it could possibly be, and why the butler seemed so offended by it.
“Quinn wouldn’t have left anything dangerous here,” he finally declared, pulling the cloth off. The cloth fell away, revealing a shiny gilt birdcage with a little yellow taxidermied bird inside, forever perched on its golden swing.
A stuffed canary in a cage.
Perry goggled for a moment, and a shocked chuckle slipped from his lips as he picked up the cage, looking at the bird inside.
It was such a ridiculous, tasteless gift.
And to be fair to Lord Ravenscroft, it perfectly suited their thorny friendship.
But given what had happened today… Well, now they knew why the dandy had apologised.
Fortunately, Peregrine wasn’t insulted. On the contrary, his mirth increased the longer he looked at it. And when he finally looked at the card attached, he dissolved into a fit.
“What does the card say?” Charity asked, finally losing the battle to her burning curiosity.
The cream-coloured note dangled from a golden silk ribbon attached to the top of the cage. Unable to speak, Peregrine untied it and handed it to Charity.
You lived. This one didn’t. Try not to get the two confused.
“Oh, good God. No wonder Quinn is in a huff,” Charity murmured, embarrassed on Lord Ravenscroft's behalf.
Peregrine struggled to compose himself, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Perhaps it shouldn’t be humorous—but somehow it is. I suspect I have grown on Maggie, and I think part of him absolutely hates that.”
“Behaviour very much worthy of a brother,” Charity murmured, thinking of the way she had seen her friend Grace and her brother Felix used to fight with one another. But despite the bickering, those two would do anything for one another.
She always envied the bond between Grace and her siblings. Charity didn’t have a very close relationship with her sister, and given the age difference between them, possibly neither did Peregrine and Lark.
“Do you think so?” Perry’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Call him my elder brother and he might never speak to you again.” His words were lightly cutting. Meant to be ironic. But there was a hint of furtive pleasure too, like the idea pleased him, but he thought it would be wrong to presume.