Chapter Four

Peregrine barely had time to acknowledge what had happened before Cora charged back into the library, marched straight up to him, raised her right hand, and then delivered a hard slap to his right cheek. Obviously, when she said she didn't wish to see him again, that was a lie.

Almost as much as the absence of her former meek and mild disposition when he'd known her. "I suppose I deserved that." He put a hand to his stinging, hot cheek. "Hallo, Cora."

God, could he prove more of a nodcock?

"Of course you deserved it, you scoundrel!" Though she kept her voice low, there was no mistaking the animosity, the feeling, in her voice. She raised her hand as if she would slap him again, but appeared to think the better of it, for she retreated a few steps, her chest heaving. Then, a frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as her gaze roved over his face.

Standing near one of the candles, he no doubt appeared grotesque in the play of light and shadows. "What?" Part of him steeled, for she must have noticed the wreck of his face. Though he wanted nothing more than to hide, Peregrine stood his ground.

I'm tired of hiding.

"Dear heavens, Peregrine, what happened to you in the years since I last saw you?" The utterance was said in a horrified whisper as she peered more intently at him. Her eyes rounded, the blue irises darkened slightly, and she pressed her lips together. This time when she closed the distance between them and lifted her hand, she didn't slap him. Instead, she drew her gloved fingertips along his cheek, the side of his head, let them drift over the curve of his ear and she sucked in a breath. "What you must have suffered…"

"Stop." Even though their close proximity and her fleeting touch left him confused, he detested the emotions bordering on sadness in her eyes. He grabbed her hand, held it away from his face. "I don't need or want your pity." If there was annoyance or perhaps disappointment in his voice, he couldn't help that fact.

"I wasn't giving it." Cora wrenched her hand away, took a few steps backward while she bounced her gaze between his scars and his eyes. "I simply wished to understand, to know what happened, but since you apparently know best, I'll leave you to that misery."

Shock plowed through Peregrine's chest. "I might be many things, but I am not miserable." The woman had no right to say he was such.

"Ah, so then that assumes you attend social events with regularity. Is that correct?" One of her finely feathered blonde eyebrows went up in challenge.

Dear God.She had matured since he'd last seen her. At some point, she'd developed womanly curves that would drive vicars to drink in excess or monks to flirt, and the turbulent emotions in her blue eyes spoke of secrets and sadness that oddly enough tugged at his chest. "I… Well, I…" Quite possibly, he didn't know her any longer. "That is to say…" The words flew out of his mind and refused to jump off his tongue. Why was he so flustered around her?

Slowly, she shook her head. An expression of confusion lined her face. "Why did you have to come back, Perry? I was perfectly fine thinking you didn't exist, that you had perished in some heroic death far away. At least it would have explained many things. Perhaps it would have put an end to the cycle of anger and fear and guilt and regret I keep putting myself through."

"I had no idea." Cora was the only person in the world who used a shortened version of his name, usually when she was aggravated or exasperated by him.

"Of course not. How could you?" She threw up a hand. "You destroyed my life!"

"I'll admit, I didn't give thought to any of that when I left…" That was perhaps the wrong thing to say, and never had he been at such a loss for words as he was now. Not knowing how to respond in the face of her anger, he studied her instead. The jonquil hue of the gown suited her pale complexion, but it was the square bodice that allowed the upper slopes of her breasts to peek out that captured his attention. The remembered feel of how her pebbled nipple had felt or of how her honeyed heat had dampened his fingers sent a shiver of need down his shaft.

"Have you nothing to say?" When she propped her hands on her rounded hips and glared, he gave his head a slight shake to clear his thoughts. "Standing there after violating me when you assumed I was another woman? And now nothing is apparently in your head except broken sentences?"

Bloody hell, when did she learn how to dress down a man?

Where had the woman he'd pledged his life to gone, and why had this near-shrew of a woman replaced her? Though he wasn't nodcock enough to think he'd hadn't a hand in that change, he refused to dwell on it now. "I apologize." What the devil was there to say? How had he not been able to ascertain the difference between women? In the dim candlelight, golden and caramel strands of her hair almost glimmered within the blonde mass. Emotions shadowed her cornflower eyes, too many for him to discern just one. "That wasn't well done of me." To be fair, he hadn't known what Miss Beaufort felt like in his arms, and he hadn't noticed perfume at the time.

"What wasn't?" Clearly, she wouldn't allow him a reprieve.

He huffed with frustration. "For daring to put my hands on you, even if you did give permission," he couldn't help but add, and when her eyes narrowed, he instantly regretted that decision. Heat went up the back of his neck, for the whole thing was quite embarrassing. "Also, for thinking you were Miss Beaufort. It was an egregious error."

"Yes, it was." Cora crossed her arms beneath her breasts, which only pushed those rather full charms closer to the edge of the bodice. "Yet now you stand here before me, as big as you please, and there is no regret or claims to responsibility for what you did to me three years ago? Instead, you are more concerned about courting someone new."

"It has been over three years." Of course she hadn't forgotten. Why would she? When she nearly sprang at him, he took a step backward. Yes, he'd broken their engagement without an explanation, and yes, that action had no doubt ruined her reputation, and yes, he'd returned to London without a word, but couldn't the past remain just that? "I assumed we had both moved on from that time."

"That is exactly what I'd expect a man to say. No one ever looks askance at a man in such situations." To his mortification, her chin trembled. That he remembered about her. When she was upset, it always manifested with her chin first, but to her credit, she stared him down and shot daggers from her eyes. "I was forced to pick up the pieces of my life, thanks to you! And also, because of what you did, my family and I had to flee to Bedfordshire in shame." Apparently agitated, she drifted through the open door to the garden beyond.

One broken engagement had the power to do all that? Intrigued yet beleaguered by the hot guilt stuck in his chest, Peregrine trailed after her. Miss Beaufort was temporarily forgotten, for though he had been shocked to his core when he discovered the woman he'd dared to semi-compromise had been Cora, he was somewhat cheered to find out it had been her.

The woman he'd never thought to see again, or at least do his best to avoid.

"I don't know what to say that can make any of this better." Truly, he was at a loss, and to be honest, he'd never been gifted in conversing with ladies. It had been a minor miracle he'd courted and secured her hand to begin with. Or perhaps she'd gently led him through the motions, and he'd gladly agreed.

Immediately, the sounds of the night met his ears as he joined her. In many ways, he reveled in the songs of the insects and the soft calls of nocturnal birds. Even the rustle of the breeze in the leaves, for he had missed that while at sea.

"What do you want me to say, Cora?" Perhaps it was best to go straight for the heart of the issue. He wasn't adept at veiled hints.

"Are you daft?" Seconds later, she rounded on him, which had him retreating toward the library doors. "How do you think I felt when you met me on the steps of the church, gave me some rushed and confusing speech about how you'd changed your mind, and then you ran away?" With every accusation, she jabbed her forefinger into his chest. "Who does that to a woman, and one you said you loved?"

She had him over a barrel. "All good questions." As much as he'd hoped this day would never come, here it was, and looking like a tempest in yellow. Peregrine cleared his throat. "There were very specific reasons I had no choice but to leave you that morning," he said in a lowered voice. "But that didn't mean my love for you was false."

An unladylike snort escaped her. "If you truly loved me, you wouldn't have run."

"What makes you think I didn't?" A trace of annoyance stabbed through his chest in a hot wave. "I was going into the navy, Cora! It was an uncertain time when England was bedeviled by the American naval forces. If I perished, I didn't wish for you to mourn me."

Well, damn.That was the first time he'd spoken such things aloud.

"Then why couldn't you have told me that at the time?" Hurt shadowed her eyes, visible in the shadows and the play of moonlight. "I would have understood to a point."

"Would you?" Shaking his head, he frowned. "You were quite adamant that we marry, but you never said why. I assumed you wished to be away from your family, that you wanted to immediately start a life together, and that wouldn't have been possible with me receiving my orders that very morning."

Yes, mistakes had been made on both of their parts. There was no going back to correct them now, but perhaps airing the grievances would help.

For long moments, she stared at him while a myriad of emotions danced over her face: anger, longing, sadness, but since he didn't know her private thoughts, he was at a loss of how to help soothe them.

He cleared his throat, for the silence between them was quite deafening, and every second that ticked by, he grew more uncomfortable. "Beyond that, I was terrified."

"Of the navy? At being away from England? The sea?" Only then did he see the thin vermeil chain around her neck and the delicate band of carved ivory that rested on said chain. He'd given her that ring on the afternoon they'd gotten engaged.

Why had she kept it?

"All those things, except for perhaps the sea. God, I miss it so," he added in a barely audible voice. "I was also afraid of what sort of husband I would be, for my father was horrid in that regard." Why he hadn't told her that during their courtship, he couldn't say. "If your father wishes, I shall pay back the dowry he gave to me." That had also been a source of acute embarrassment for Peregrine, for the baron had put one hundred pounds upon her head as dowry. Not a king's ransom by any means, but it was nothing to sneeze at.

"No doubt that would help financially, but it won't solve all the problems… except perhaps make difficulties for you." Cora waved a hand, dismissing the subject. "Mia confided in me that she convinced Papa to waive her dowry, for she never hoped to marry. I suppose that was why he had the funding for mine."

Vaguely, he remembered her sisters, and often had them confused. "She's the one who recently married that scoundrel of a viscount." Thank goodness for gossip.

"Yes, and though he did wreck his reputation and his coffers are bare, Mia maintains she loves him. Perhaps that is all one needs in this life to be happy." The sound of a stifled sob escaped her, and once more a wave of hot guilt swept through his chest. "Unfortunately, what you and I shared wasn't that, neither was it strong enough to survive the challenges we would have faced."

"Cora, I—"

"It doesn't matter now," Cora finally said in a choked whisper, saving him from once more making a cake of himself without the proper words. "You left me in a precarious position, socially and otherwise. The ton considered me tainted; the rumors decreed you must have found severe fault with my character if you broke off the engagement on our wedding day." The space of a few heartbeats went by while she battled with her emotions. "I almost wish you would have perished at sea." The tears that welled in her eyes made the blue luminous. "Then you wouldn't be here, taunting me with your courtship of another lady, reminding me of what was taken away from me because you changed your mind."

Damn, he vastly preferred when she railed and ranted at him. That he understood and could counter, but this defeated version of herself tore at his heart, proving that the feelings he'd once had for her hadn't exactly faded. "I didn't change my mind, yet I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you a potential widow before we'd even had a honeymoon period." His throat tightened. "I wanted to ensure you wouldn't be trapped in a mourning period, that you could marry someone else quickly if that was your preference."

"I was in love with you!" The cry she uttered had been propelled by high emotion. Spots of color blazed in her cheeks as she advanced in the face of his retreat. Once more they were back in the library. "What sort of a nodcock were you? Love encompasses everything, Perry. Good or bad, richer or poorer, sickness and health. Everything in between, but we would have had the thought of each other. We could have written letters giving hope and keeping that love alive. There could have been that one splendid night together that might have changed everything." Her voice broke. "But you were selfish and a coward."

"I am not denying that." The urge to take her into his arms for comfort was dashed when she charged past him. She didn't stop until she'd reached the middle of the room. With a sigh, he followed. Always following this woman, yet there was a rightness that was far too disturbing.

Before he could respond, things went from bad to worse when Miss Beaufort appeared at the still open corridor door. "Captain Wetherford? Are you in here? I only just was given the note you left for me."

Bloody, bloody hell.

"Uh, hallo Miss Beaufort." What the devil was he supposed to do now? The thought to get her alone tonight and introduce her to kissing, see how far she might have let him take a passionate embrace to gauge their compatibility seemed gauche in the moment, especially with Cora still staring daggers at him. "I was merely talking to an old… friend."

A swift inhalation of breath from Cora immediately told him that had been the absolute worst thing he could have said.

Why the devil am I not gifted with words or flattery?

"I see." Though from the chit's tone, it was clear she did not as she bounced her gaze between him and Cora, confusion clear in the light blue depths of her eyes.

Eyes that were not deep enough blue at all. Then he frowned. The younger woman did indeed wear the same-colored gown as Cora. She possessed almost the same blonde hair, yet upon second glance, hers didn't glimmer as much as Cora's. Oh, good God! The realization smacked into his chest so hard that he stumbled backward a step. He'd chosen Miss Beaufort as a possible candidate for marriage for one reason only—she'd reminded him of Cora at least in looks, but not temperament… or anything else that made his former fiancée unique.

"Uh, could you please wait for me in the corridor, Miss Beaufort? This conversation is nearly concluded." How the devil could he continue a courtship of the young lady now? Certainly not after Cora had come back into his life accidentally.

"Very well, but I am missing the best parts of the rout by taking the chance at scandal with you," she said and there was most definitely a pout in her voice, but she took her leave.

Peregrine relaxed, but only slightly. He could walk away from Cora. Their paths would need never cross again, but… It was so damned confusing. Once Miss Beaufort exited the room, he rested his gaze on Cora. If she were open to resuming their relationship, he would tell the chit they wouldn't suit after all. "I apologize for the interruption."

"Yes, it seems as if you are very busy indeed." Sarcasm dripped from her rejoinder.

He ignored that as well as the heat creeping up the back of his neck. "We are both different people, don't you think? Too much has happened in the years apart for us to jump right into a relationship as if nothing happened." It was a large assumption on his part, but he guessed that was what she wanted.

Wasn't it? Surely that was why she was so angry at him.

"Ha! I cannot believe you said that to me."

"I don't understand." Truly, he didn't. "That is why you're angry, correct? Because I might be courting another?" He lowered his voice. "Especially after your responses when I—"

"Stop." She held up a hand, cutting off his flow of unfortunate words. "You have much to learn about women. Especially women still annoyed after being jilted by you." A bitter laugh fell from her lips. "Thinking that I want you now is laughable. After everything you caused to happen?" She laughed again, but there was no mirth in the sound. It scraped across his consciousness like fingernails against a slate. "I wouldn't have you, Peregrine Wetherford, if you were the last man on God's green earth. You have already proven you cannot be trusted."

Shock ricocheted through his tight chest, and his insecurities intensified. "Is it because of my disfigurement?"

"I beg your pardon?" A frown tugged down the corners of her lips. Her gaze flew to the left side of his face. Something flickered deep in her eyes, but it was too shadowy in the room to read the emotion. "Of course not. You cannot help what happened to you."

"Then why would you say such a thing?"

"Don't be an arse. Your word means nothing; you promised me a lifetime and gave me naught but scandal and grief instead." For emphasis, she shook her head. A strand of gold fell from its pins to frame her face.

"Miss Hasting!" The annoyed call from what sounded like an older woman echoed in the corridor beyond. "Where the devil have you gotten off to, girl? I'm tired and want to go home."

Ah, Cora's charge.

Her attention darted to the door. "Coming, Mrs. Bromington!" Then she glanced at him. "As I said earlier tonight, I never wish to see you again." Then she marched from the room with her chin at a stubborn tilt and the swish of her skirting about her ankles that put an odd finality to the scene.

"Cora, wait!" Peregrine trotted quickly after her, and when he gained the door, she had slipped an arm about an older woman's waist. "Good evening, ma'am."

The widow—or rather Cora's dragon—gave him a withering look up and down his person. "Best leave Miss Hasting alone. She's not one to linger in the company of men. Got too much responsibility as it is."

There was nothing he could say, especially since Miss Beaufort stared, round-eyed, at everyone suddenly in the corridor. How had life suddenly become more complicated? With a sigh, he approached the younger woman as Cora led her charge around the corner. "I apologize for such an interruption to the evening. Perhaps you would enjoy a lemonade and dancing?" He no longer wished to be alone with her. Much of the daring had faded from it.

"All right." The chit frowned, and an hour ago, he would have found the gesture charming and slightly arousing. "Who was the lady in yellow?"

"Someone I used to know a long time ago." The girl didn't need to know about their prior engagement or how it had ended. Neither did she need to be told that being in Cora's company—regardless of his reception—was cozy and familiar. "Needless to say, she wasn't happy to see me." He offered her his arm, but sighed when her gaze crept to the scars and marks on the left side of his face. Quietly, he moved to her other side and then offered his other arm.

"I think the lemonade would suffice for now, but perhaps you could introduce me to some of your friends if they are in attendance."

Of course, because he was only good enough to be a steppingstone to better offers. The cloying scent of honeysuckle wafted to his nose, making him breathe through his mouth. It wasn't nearly as pleasant as Cora's orange blossom and vanilla perfume.

As he escorted the younger lady to the staircase, there was no doubt in his mind what he needed to do—end the relationship with Miss Beaufort gracefully before it even started. It might make him the biggest dunce London had ever seen, but he wanted to repair things with Cora. The hurt in her eyes had wounded him more deeply than he'd anticipated, and above all, he was a gentleman, even if she didn't think so. To say nothing of the fact that the ring around her neck gave him an odd sense of hope.

If fate were kind, perhaps they could remain friends. After that, only God knew, but he refused to rush his fences.