Chapter Fourteen

May 31, 1817

Bromington House

Manchester Square

London

Cora yawned and couldn't quite hide it behind her hand, for it had been a busy two days.

True to his word, Peregrine had called yesterday, but just as Mrs. Bromington had instructed all along, he was denied entry. She'd taken comfort in the fact he had been there and left a box of expensive French chocolates for her with Mr. Riley, for her charge had remained in bed all day, apparently wrestling with the fact her legs had lost all feeling and refusing to see anyone except Cora.

Today, however, Mrs. Bromington had returned to her previous lambasting form, which meant she refused to stay confined to her private rooms. What was more, she somehow had procured a Bath chair because she didn't wish to let her infirmity keep her immobile. Now that she was back lording her presence over everyone beneath her roof, no one had a moment's peace.

Including Cora. She had been run ragged since her employer had first collapsed. If at any time she spent more than twenty minutes alone in her room, the widow immediately had one of the maids track her down and recall her to the older woman's side. There were suddenly so many things to look after, which included giving comfort to the two upstairs maids every time Mrs. Bromington blasted them with her acerbic tongue. Truly, there was every indication the maids would hand in their notices soon, and that would be horrible, for Cora's responsibilities would increase tenfold.

Throughout it all, the conversation she'd had with Peregrine before he'd left kept circling around her mind like ponies on a loop. Had he truly been right and she wrong? Was the widow pretending her injury?

It was impossible to know.

She yawned again. Tea wasn't far off, and for the moment Mrs. Bromington was content with her crocheting. That gave Cora time to look through her personal correspondence, which had sadly been neglected for the past several days. There was a letter from her younger sister Gigi dated two weeks prior, and for the next few moments, she read through the breezy, gossipy words with a slight smile curving her lips.

…I'm afraid Papa's mind continues to degrade with each month. He tends to forget words as well as the books he's read. Just yesterday, he forgot Nora's name and why she never spoke aloud…

Mama is beside herself with worry over Emmaline, who was frightened by a visitor coming to the manor and locked herself in her room for two days…

…I wish you would come home. Everything is much more manageable and calmer…

…someone came by the other day asking about the taxes, which sent Papa into a rage. It looks more and more likely I'll take a position closer to home, perhaps as a governess…

With a chuckle, Cora tried to envision Gigi as a governess, when she had spent far too much time trying to escape her own, but it was concerning how things were moving at home. Which meant it was even more vital to grin and bear Mrs. Bromington's horrid behavior.

Then she cracked the seal and pulled Mia's letter from its envelope.

…we are finally settled into Moss Cottage and are setting up housekeeping for the summer as a sort of honeymoon. Ireland is gorgeous, and the cottage is so dear! I have a true sense of my husband's roots here. Oh, Cora, I wish you could see this country; it's so green with the sea twinkling around.

…should return to London by the first of September, for Wycliffe has duties to parliament…

…I never thought being a wife at my age would prove so exciting. I suppose that depends on the caliber of the man. It's been about a month since I wed Wycliffe and already my life has changed forever. I have written to Mama, but she hasn't responded. I hope all is well at home. Though I worry, there is now this new life I need to give my attention to…

As Cora huffed out a breath in frustration, she folded the letter without finishing the read. Hot jealousy stabbed through her chest. While she was glad her eldest sister was so happy within her new marriage, another part of her felt as if that life was a dream she would never realize for herself. Anger clashed with the jealousy, for Mia had more or less left the Hasting family to their own devices and their problems in order to be with her new husband.

Why is helping Papa now my sole responsibility?For she rather doubted Gigi would do well at any position she managed to secure. She simply didn't have the fortitude for such, and was too big a flirt to have a respectable family keep her on. When Mia came back to London, would she go back home to help with Papa? It was highly unlikely, for she would no doubt have responsibilities also that came from being a viscountess. Surely Nora and the younger girls couldn't keep on by themselves, to say nothing of Mama's wellbeing.

"If you continue to sigh like a damned windstorm, go upstairs so I don't hear you. It's becoming distracting." The annoyance in her employer's voice immediately recalled Cora to the present as well as her situation.

"I apologize, Mrs. Bromington, but I worry about my family." She stuffed both letters into a book then set it on a small round table near her elbow.

"If they have any fortitude, they can puzzle out their obstacles for themselves." And she continued to manipulate the crochet hook through the wool on her lap.

Clamping her lips together to prevent an unladylike response, Cora stood up from her chair. She moved over the Aubusson carpeting, and when she peered out of the bay window, she stifled a gasp, for Peregrine had just alighted from his curricle in front of the townhouse. Immediately, her pulse accelerated. She smoothed her hands down the front of her plain pink day dress. "If you will excuse me for one moment? There is something I must urgently attend to." For she would not have the butler turn him away from the door again.

Never had she moved so quickly down the wooden stairs while trying to go as silently as she could. As soon as she gained the lower floor, she dashed into the short entry hall just in time to see Mr. Riley open the front door. Peregrine's big form stood in the frame, and she knew an insane moment of wanting to collapse into his arms and hide there until her turbulent world righted itself.

"It is quite all right, Mr. Riley," she said with some breathlessness while she skidded to a halt near the butler's location. "Captain Wetherford can come in today. All is well, I promise." Then, before the man could rebut that, she gestured Peregrine forward.

"Shall I announce him to Mrs. Bromington?" Mr. Riley asked as he had no choice but to close the door.

"No, no. I'll escort him up directly." When Peregrine opened his mouth to no doubt question what was going on, she cut him off with a curt shake of her head. "Mrs. Bromington is in the drawing room," she said in a low voice.

"So I assumed. It will be good to see the old dear again." And he followed her up the stairs because she gave him no choice.

"I'm glad you are here," she admitted in a barely audible voice. "It has been quite the mess here for the last couple of days." Once they cleared the stairs and since there was no one in the corridor, she burrowed into his arms and clung to him. "I have been run ragged and feel like everything is unraveling."

"Shh. I'm here; I will help if I can." He wrapped his arms around her and held her securely against his chest. Though anyone could see them if they started up the stairs, Cora shoved that worry from her mind. "Take a deep breath. Surely it isn't as bad as all that."

"I don't know." The scents of sun, sea, and oak filtered through her nose, and she tried to take comfort in that as well as the strength of him as he shielded her, protected her. "I had letters from my sisters today. Gigi isn't taking our family's woes seriously, and Mia has all but abandoned the family for her husband and new life as a viscountess." Even to her own ears she sounded petty. "She's traveled to Ireland for a honeymoon as if Papa's health doesn't matter!" Her words were muffled by the folds of his cravat where she'd buried her face into.

"Ah, sweeting." The stroke of his fingers down her spine encouraged calm. "Amelia has every right to have her own life after spending so many years giving of herself to your family. There is nothing wrong with cleaving to her husband, especially if they are truly in love as I suspect they are." Those logical words rang in her ears and worked to soothe the storms inside. "Your sister had the courage to break away, to carve out something for herself. It doesn't mean she's abandoning the family."

Cora took a shuddering breath. "She is on her honeymoon without a care in the world." Now she was being petty, for she knew more than anyone Mia deserved that happiness.

"After that period is over, she will return, and I'll wager she'll find some way to continue helping your father. But let her have this for herself. Give her grace, Cora. And have faith."

Yes, his logic was sound, yet it didn't help her own situation. "But—"

His sigh ruffled the curls on her forehead. "Life is short, sweeting. You can't keep tossing those precious days away on other people because sooner or later you will wake up and realize the time allotted to you is gone." He gently rocked her back and forth. "Some of those people appreciate your efforts then use your help as a crutch, but alternately, some don't and will selfishly keep you with them, use you up until there is nothing left. Then they'll move on to the next person in line."

"You speak of Mrs. Bromington," she said in a whisper.

"Of course."

Cora sighed. "I… I think she isn't as bad as everyone thinks."

"And Prinny is a svelte, lean man," he said with humor in his voice. "Don't be fooled merely because you have a good heart. Things will only change when you do. When you stop allowing the people around you to treat you terribly. When you convince yourself that you deserve more, better."

"How, though? My family is in reduced circumstances. We are barely clinging to the fringes of society."

"That doesn't mean it's permission for others to treat you as if you are less than." He pressed his lips to her temple and released her out of convention, peering down into her eyes. "You are worthy merely because you exist. There is nothing that is out of reach for you if you have enough determination." As he cupped her cheek, he wiped away the moisture on her skin with the pad of his thumb. "Don't see yourself through the glass of the worst of people or their need. You are on this earth for a reason, and it is not to always fix others' problems."

She shook her head, for though the words were pretty and meant as encouragement, they didn't show her a way out of her situation. "I cannot walk away. I don't have that freedom." Not like men, who could go at will wherever they wished.

"Then it will eventually be your prison, if it's not already." The somberness in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. "Is there any change in Mrs. Bromington's condition?"

"No." A cloud of hopelessness descended over her. "She is in a Bath chair now."

One of his shaggy brown eyebrows rose in surprise. "On the orders of a doctor?"

"No." Cora shook her head. "She refused to have one examine her."

"I wonder why." He glanced toward the drawing room door. "Perhaps because there is nothing wrong with her?"

"I…" She frowned. As much as she adored having his calm, solid presence here with her, why couldn't he see how she was drowning in her duties? That she must keep her position at all costs? "Don't be like that. She's truly struggling and in pain. I can see it in her face, and I believe her."

"Oh Cora." He snorted and shook his head. "No doubt this isn't the first time she has dissembled to make the people 'round her stay. She consistently disrespects you, and will continue to do so while you allow it." When he tried to take her hand, she snatched it behind her back. "I wish you could see the situation as I do. As no doubt her own children do. Truly, I'm trying to help you, to free you."

The truth was terrifying as she stared it down, even more so because it was delivered by this man she was irrevocably falling for. "I know. Don't you think I'm not aware of that?" she hissed in a barely audible voice, for no doubt her charge was listening. "However, she is my responsibility. There is no one else here for her."

"Why do you think that is?" Annoyance flashed in his eyes. "Think it through, Cora."

For the space of a few heartbeats, she stared at him, balancing on the edge of the life she wanted and the life she needed.

Eventually, he nodded. "Let us shift the subject for a few seconds." When he grinned, flutters danced through her belly. "Did you receive the flowers I sent yesterday with the chocolates?"

Oh, dear.

"I did, and the notes were much appreciated." Those little jottings of a romantic nature she'd hidden in her room. "Uh, but Mrs. Bromington tossed the flowers out the drawing room window." A waver entered her voice, for why would the woman take umbrage at gifts a suitor gave to her companion? "She demanded that I give the chocolates to the kitchen staff." But the notes were exclusively hers, and each one had removed one of the bricks in the wall around her heart. "The gifts were lovely."

"Hmm. I did not pay good coin for those things to have one disgruntled woman toss out." His gaze narrowed. "I would like to talk to your employer, for those gifts were yours exclusively." When he took a few steps down the corridor, Cora laid a staying hand on his arm.

"Behave."

"I will if she does." There was a hard set to his lips she didn't quite trust. "Her recent behavior is outside of enough, and she needs to be dressed down for it."

Knots of worry pulled in her stomach, but there was nothing for it except to trail behind the captain as he strode into the drawing room. "Ah, Mrs. Bromington, Captain Wetherford wishes to talk with you."

"Oh, I'll wager he does." The widow attempted to manipulate the wheels of her Bath chair but soon grew frustrated. "Miss Hasting, help me turn this contraption about so that I may face my soon-to-be accuser."

Cora frowned. "How do you know he wishes you any animosity?" But she came into the room, grabbed the handles of the chair behind the rattan head rest of the chair, and then pushed and pulled the chair until the widow faced Peregrine.

"How dare you come into this house against my wishes, Captain." Anger shook through the older woman's voice. "I am not a well woman, and I don't wish to have visitors."

"I can understand that, but I am not here to see you."

The widow stared him down. "Miss Hasting is my companion. She is not a guest, so therefore is not allowed to have visitors. As well, today is not one of her non-working days." One of her bony hands lifted and she pointed a forefinger at Peregrine. "I demand that you leave this instant."

"Had you not taken the gifts I sent Miss Hasting, I might have been inclined to follow the suggestion, but since you have been nothing but a cantankerous arse, I am not going anywhere until I'm convinced your companion is being treated well." He crossed his arms at his chest. "Being an employer does not give you the right to act with ill will to a member of the beau monde, in reduced circumstances though she might be."

Merciful heavens, they would soon come to blows if something wasn't done. Detesting conflict and especially not wishing to see Peregrine verbally blasted by the widow, Cora stepped around the Bath chair and positioned herself between them. "Please be decent, the both of you. We can discuss this in a calm, civilized manner."

"Enough, Miss Hasting." Mrs. Bromington cut the air with a hand. She glowered at them both as Cora crept unconsciously closer to Peregrine. "If you don't encourage this man out of my house right now, I will sack you on the spot." Anger flashed in her eyes. "Additionally, I will make certain that no one in London wishes to hire you on as a companion, a governess, or even a maid." Her voice rose with each new threat. "You are here, Miss Hasting, so do the job you are paid to do."

"I am, but—"

"No, you are two seconds away from dallying with the captain while you should be tending to your duties." The coolness in her tone sent frissons of fear twisting down Cora's spine. "I grow weary with him always hanging about, sniffing at your skirts as if you are a dog in heat." She narrowed her gaze. "You must choose between him of your position."

Why is this happening?

Horror scudded through her gut and sent gooseflesh racing over her skin. "Surely you can't mean that." She bounced her gaze between the widow and him, but they both stared back, and it was clear neither of them would yield.

"I am deadly serious, Miss Hasting," Mrs. Bromington said. She gripped the armrests of her Bath chair. "Choose. I am done with this foolishness."

"I am rather inclined to agree with the widow." Peregrine slowly nodded then met Cora's gaze. "I feared it would eventually come to this, and here we are. Perhaps we all need to have it out in order to move forward." A note of command echoed in his voice. "What is your choice, Cora?"

Her breath came in short pants. Confusion ran riot through her mind, and in many ways, she hated the intense interest fixed upon her. "Why can I not have both my position and a suitor?"

Mrs. Bromington made a tsking noise. "I'm tired of having your attention divided. I specifically hired you because you weren't attached, and you are a spinster. That means your time would exclusively be mine."

"Nine and twenty is hardly a spinster." Close to it, though.

The widow snorted. "You might as well be if you've been forced to make a living."

"I…" She pressed her lips together and glanced at Peregrine. He offered no help or encouragement, but there was an air of expectation that demanded an answer. The longer she looked at him, the more her heart felt as if it was being torn from all sides and would soon split asunder. Waves of heat welled over her, and she fanned her face with a hand. "Put on the spot, I have realized there is no choice for me." The urge to cast up her accounts climbed her throat. How saliva filled her mouth, and she swallowed in a desperate attempt to stave off retching. "I need this position as well as the income."

Shock and hurt reflected in Peregrine's eyes. "Have you thought this through?"

"Yes." As her heart broke into a thousand shards, she dropped her gaze to the knot of his cravat, for she couldn't bear to see the disappointment he must feel. "My family comes first, and they always will. Perhaps you don't understand this as all your family is gone." A half-stifled sob escaped her. "You need to leave, Captain." Tears welled in her eyes as Mrs. Bromington crowed with victory. "I'm so, so sorry."

The silence that brewed in the room after that announcement was deafening.

Finally, Peregrine nodded. "Very well. I shall abide by your decision." He didn't grin but merely stood there like a man wounded who doesn't realize he should fall. "At least let me tell you goodbye properly, for it's doubtful you and I will ever meet again."

Dear God, she hadn't thought of the consequences.

"Go on then, girl. Make your goodbyes and then bid him good riddance so we can get on with our lives." The widow nodded with much smugness. "We have plans to make, and none of them include a man."

Though the strength in her knees suggested she would collapse onto the floor at any moment, she followed Peregrine out of the drawing room. Once in the corridor beyond, she steeled herself for his inevitable speech where he would try to convince her to change her mind.

Yet he did none of that.

Instead, Peregrine swept her into his arms. He kissed her with such authority and intensity that she felt it all the way down to her toes. As tears fell to her cheeks, she returned his embrace, clung to the broad sweep of his shoulders. Cold regret built in her belly, and all too soon he pulled away.

"No, don't…"

"I must." Then he released her, and there was such infinite sadness in the hazel depths of his eyes that felt as if she'd opened Pandora's box and unleashed a thousand horrors and laments onto the world. A muscle in his cheek ticced while his Adam's apple bobbed. "I hope you find that you have made the right decision for you." As if he couldn't help himself, he cupped her cheek, gently brushed his lips over hers, and there was a final note of goodbye in the gesture that she wanted to sob from the heartbreak of it. He cleared his throat. "Either way, I am proud of you, and I wish you nothing but happiness in your life."

"Perry, I…" What else could she say? Almost she'd hoped he would have argued, for then she could have responded with anger and a break would have been natural, but this was horrid, like falling into a dark pit that had no end.

"Goodbye, Cora," he whispered. Then Peregrine turned about and strode toward the stairs. He didn't look back. Those broad shoulders never flinched, and he kept his back ramrod straight. Proud to the last, not once showing defeat.

And he took all her dreams with him again, but this time 'round, it was her fault.

"What have I done?" But no one answered the agonized whisper.

She sagged against the wall, put her hands over her face, and cried, mourned for everything she could have had if she hadn't erred on the side of perceived responsibility and duty instead of throwing caution to the wind in order to chase love.