Chapter Sixteen

June 10, 1817

Bromington House

Manchester Square

London

When Cora caught her eyes misting with tears, she sternly berated herself, for it was vastly unbecoming to turn into a watering pot over a man.

It had been eight days since she'd last seen Peregrine, and even then, it had been at a rout where Mrs. Bromington had forbidden her from leaving her side, had lectured her on the folly of pining after a man. That night while the widow had made the rounds in her Bath chair, Cora had no choice but to remain within a few feet of her as she'd promised when she'd chosen familial responsibility and duty to her charge over Peregrine's suit.

Yet at that rout, she had once more broken his heart by giving him the cut direct. Shortly after that, he'd found comfort in Miss Beaufort. As Cora had stood witnessing them talk with their heads close together, she secretly died inside for she had all but pushed him into the younger lady's arms. When he'd kissed her cheek and they both seemed quite satisfied with themselves, Cora had wanted to flee the room, but Mrs. Bromington demanded she find her pride and forget him.

That was her life now, and she needed to square with that. If she didn't look after the widow or help her family's finances, who would?

Surely at some point she would feel justified in denying herself a happy future.

Wouldn't she?

In that following week or just over, she had fallen into a routine, for Mrs. Bromington was nothing if not predictable. There were people to receive, servants to bedevil, calls to make, errands to run, and operas to attend. To be fair, the widow remained intent to spend the winter in Rome, but thus far, she hadn't made any firm plans or booked passage.

Regardless, Cora had fought to keep her emotions tamped down and buried, for there was no happiness or joy, nothing to look forward to in her life, and definitely no teasing from the captain, and no visits from his dog.

It was lonely, and she missed Peregrine more than she thought she might. For too long, she'd hated him and what he'd done to her, but when he'd come back into her life, had won her over with his charm and determination, she'd fallen for him all over again… only to toss it away over one silly decision.

As the long-case clock in the second-floor corridor struck the noon day hour, Cora once more stuffed her thoughts away and shoved her feelings down as she walked toward the drawing room. It was time for luncheon and no doubt Mrs. Bromington would be growing peckish, but as she drew near to the door, the sound of voices within made her frown. Apparently, the widow had one of her friends in for a visit, a Lady Bronson, who was one of society's biggest gossip matrons. With indecision racking her, Cora paused outside the open door, still hidden behind the wall.

Should she interrupt?

While she waffled, the conversation within drifted to her ears.

Lady Bronson sniffled, for she'd just sneezed. "In any event, I wish to hire a companion like yours, Alice. Do you have any ideas where to acquire one? Perhaps with an agency?"

"Or you can take out an advertisement for help in one of the newspapers." Mrs. Bromington chuckled. "Be certain you hire a biddable one, older preferably, one who has all but given up on their dreams, and one who is responsible and duty bound." There was a pause, and presumably the widow was maneuvering her Bath chair. "If the candidate's family is of reduced circumstances, that is even better. Usually, they are already wracked by guilt but will embrace the challenge presented with their position."

"Oh? Is your girl in that category?"

"She is. Her father is Baron Landover, and you know how far that name has fallen within the ton."

The other woman made a sound of agreement, while Cora stood in the corridor with a hand pressed to her lips so she wouldn't betray her presence. "Has that helped you in getting along with yours? I can't believe she's stuck by you for so long where others have given notice or been sacked."

"It definitely has, especially now that some of the fight has left her." The widow chuckled. "Miss Hasting has been with me six months this week. I'm hoping to take her to Rome this winter and do some traveling through the Continent. I've a hankering to see the world and spend my inheritance."

A gasp issued from Lady Bronson. "How can you do that in the Bath chair? Won't that be a hardship for you both? I cannot imagine trekking through streets on a ship with contraption."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Cecily." A rusting sort of laugh escaped Mrs. Bromington. "I haven't been completely honest."

"Oh?"

As Cora peered around the door frame and into the room, she stifled a gasp with both hands over her mouth, for Mrs. Bromington had stood up from her chair to walk about the immediate area with little to no strain, if a tad slowly, which was why she usually used a cane. Shock billowed through her chest while she stared in disbelief.

"I am only pretending to be an invalid to ensure Miss Hasting remains with me. She had some silly notion of throwing her life away on a retired sea captain."

"Ah, I know the one. That man with the horrid scars?" The other woman shivered. "I cannot imagine waking up to that face every day."

"Yes, exactly." The widow nodded before she returned to the Bath chair. "To make certain the girl stayed with me, I falsified my injury, had to run off the man before she tumbled tip over tail for him."

"Did she learn nothing from her previous failed engagement to him?" the other lady asked with another sniff.

"Who can say what goes on in the heads of young women who build castles in the air." Mrs. Bromington huffed. "Besides, she needs to get her living due to her family's financial problems and I need a companion whose will has been defeated by disappointments in life." Another creaky laugh echoed in the room. "Now we'll both be able to enjoy the Continent. In this way, I can show my ungrateful children I don't need them as they claim."

Dear heavens.In the corridor, Cora gaped, stood shaking in silence as shock continued to hold her captive.

"I thought your youngest daughter wished to move in with you and keep your house."

The widow snorted. "She does, but it's only out of pity, I'm sure." A hard note had entered her voice. "I refuse to be a charity to anyone."

"Be grateful, Alice. If one of your children is willing, best take advantage of that."

"The companion is more biddable than my daughter."

They both shared a laugh.

Then Lady Bronson spoke again. "Does Miss Hasting suspect any of this?"

"As far as I know, she does not. Now that the danger of her running off with the captain has passed, I suppose I should begin putting out hints that the feeling is miraculously coming back into my legs." Another laugh issued from her. "I'll blame it on aging and the mysteries of a woman's body. No one will question it."

Out in the corridor, Cora curled the fingers of one hand into a fist within her skirting. It had all been a lie?

"You are quite clever. But won't Miss Hasting be upset?"

"I rather doubt it." The sound of the Bath chair being manipulated filtered to Cora's ears. "Though she's prone to outspokenness at times, she is too fearful to speak her mind or cause problems. Especially now the captain is gone. Of course, I did threaten to sack her without recommendation, so that is what guided her responses."

The two women chuckled.

"This has all been fascinating," Lady Bronson said with a definite grin in her voice. "Now, does she have a friend or perhaps another sister who is willing to be a companion?"

How dare her!

As the conversation droned on inside the drawing room, in the corridor, Cora was in the grips of heavy emotion. Hot anger and annoyance battered her insides, quickly followed by cold guilt, regret, and despair. Mrs. Bromington had lied to her to make her stay, just as Peregrine had suspected, but she—Cora—had refused to listen, had denied it was possible, had chosen to side with the widow.

Her breath came in quick pants. She leaned her back against the wall merely to remain upright. Because she'd believed the lies, believed that Mrs. Bromington had truly lost the use of her legs, she had given up a life with Peregrine. Out of false pretenses! She had thrown away her future for the sake of a paid position in order to save her family and provide companionship to a woman who not only didn't respect her but also would use her until there was nothing left.

Just as he'd feared, Peregrine had so much integrity that he'd let her make her own decisions without throwing a fit or trying to convince her out of it.

In everything, he'd been naught but a gentleman, had supported her in everything she'd wished to do with each step, and she'd been too blind to see the truth.

Oh, God, what have I done?

With nothing to do just now, Cora tamped down hard on the urge to sob. Knowing she risked discovery, she retreated along the corridor as quickly and quietly as she could then she ran up the stairs to her room, where she softly closed the door. Then she threw herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and sobbed out the contents of her heart. As she wept, she mourned for what she'd done, for what she'd caused to happen, the dreams she'd willingly given up, for everything she had lost.

And for what?

She didn't know how long she'd indulged in tears, but eventually Bridget came into the room, and by that time, the afternoon sunlight was slanting through the window.

"Miss Hasting? Are you well?"

"No!" A wail followed the answer.

"Oh, dear." The maid came into the room. She perched on the side of Cora's bed and grasped Cora's hand. "What happened? Mrs. Bromington is grousing that you neglected to join her for luncheon, but she's occupied enough with Lady Branson."

"Truth to tell, I honestly don't care what Mrs. Bromington thinks." In between bouts of tears, Cora told the maid what she'd discovered in the corridor. "She's not an invalid nor is she paralyzed. It has all been lies to ensure my obedience. Ensure that we all remain here with her!"

"I wish I could say that I'm shocked, but I'm not." Bridget hugged her. "I'm so sorry."

"Because of that woman, I gave up a future with Captain Wetherford. That poor man tried every day to call on me and was turned away nearly every time." Another round of tears beset her, and she wiped them away with her fingers. "I made a horrible mistake because I believed Mrs. Bromington needed me, and she only considers me a pawn to be used, as if I'm naught but a candle, there to provide light for her to read by. There will be another behind me, and another after that." The enormity of what she'd lost continued to press in on her chest, and she gasped for breath. "What am I to do? I can't stay here now."

Yet where would she go?

"Don't cry so." Bridget pressed a folded and starched handkerchief into her hand. "Things truly aren't as bad as you fear."

"How? I've ruined everything."

The maid tsked her tongue. "First off, you should beg the captain's forgiveness, grovel if you must." That lovely Irish brogue was heavy in her voice. "He loves you to distraction. Everyone thinks so, and he's handsome besides, even if his face is marred." She tucked an escaped strand of Cora's hair behind her ear. "Men like him don't flit from woman to woman. I'll wager he loves you still."

"I don't know about that. He was quite cozy with a young woman the last time I saw him." Then she frowned and stared at the maid. "Even if he somehow asked me to marry him, that won't help my family. He isn't well off."

"Perhaps not, but you will have each other, and that will make you happy. You will finally know peace." Bridget patted Cora's arm. "The rest can take care of itself later. Things like that usually do."

"I don't know." She wiped her eyes once more. "Surely, he will never forgive me. I betrayed him, Bridget. I left him. That hurt in his eyes will haunt me for the remainder of my life. I know how that feels." A shuddering sigh left her throat. "When I could have him, I chose something else—"

"That you thought was right for you at the time, just as he did when he went into the navy and left you behind." For long moments, Bridget held her gaze. Compassion lined her expression. "Now he knows it was a mistake, just as you know that you made the same." She shrugged. "If he loves you as he claims, he will forgive you, especially if you love him as well." The young woman paused, raised a red eyebrow in question. "You do love him, don't you?"

Did she?

As she peered at the maid, thought about everything Peregrine had done since they'd crashed back together all those weeks ago, she groaned with sadness. She could no longer deny it to herself. Yes, she loved him, and had never stopped even though she'd shoved that emotion behind anger, denial, embarrassment, and fear. "Oh, Bridget, I've been such a silly, stupid widgeon."

The maid chuckled. "We have all been made to feel such because love has twisted us about. There is no shame in it."

Despite the reassurance, heat rose into her cheeks. "I'm quite embarrassed, though."

"As soon as you make amends with your man, all of that will go away."

"Do you think he'll even consent to see me?" She glanced at the window where rain drummed against the glass and gray skies loomed as far as the eye could see.

"You won't know unless you try," Bridget said with a wink as she stood up from the bed.

"Right." This would be the most important visit and speech she would ever make in her life. Everything else fell away to the back of her mind. Perhaps it was time to put herself and her needs in the forefront for once. Afterward, she could address all her other worries, but she couldn't do any of that until she'd spoken to Peregrine. Struggling into a sitting position, she sighed. "Then we shouldn't delay. Find my prettiest gown. I'll need my hair set, oh and locate the ivory hair comb as well as that ivory ring on the chain." It had been something she'd given up wearing after she feared she'd lost him forever.

"I would be delighted, but it's raining, duckie. You'll ruin the hair and the gown."

"Does that matter when my future is hanging above my head by fate's string?" She squirmed off the bed and headed to the armoire. "When at any moment it can be cut, and this chance will be forever dashed from my grasp?"

"Perhaps not." Amusement sounded in the maid's voice as she joined Cora in contemplating the gown choices. "Will you leave Mrs. Bromington's service?"

"I'm not certain." Already, her stomach was full of knots, for if she didn't stay here, she would no longer have the coin to send to her family.

Papa will lose the hall.

Bridget heaved out a breath. "She'll undoubtedly sack you once she finds out that you've run off after the captain."

"Perhaps she will." Cora scowled at her small collection of clothing. "I'll hate to leave you here to fight alone."

"Oh, la." The maid waved a hand. "I will manage. There are always households who need maids, but you will have your man, and nothing should ever stand in the way of that."

"It's so frightening." Her insides were in a jumble. "What will I even say to him?" Would any words win back the heart of a man scorned and rejected?

"Speak from the heart and be honest. Men like the captain don't engage in games and riddles." Bridget grinned. "And a bit of kissing doesn't hurt either."

"I shall think of what I'll do on the ride over. Will you tell Mrs. Bromington I'm in bed with a megrim?"

"Of course, but if all goes as it should, I'll wager you'll be in bed with something far more pleasurable, my girl." Then she pulled at a few gowns. "Let's see what we can find."

"Good." Cora pressed a shaking hand to her heated cheek. I must try. For herself and the future she suddenly desperately wanted. Just as her older sister had taken a chance and stepped out with faith and hope, so would she.

God help me.