Chapter Five

May 21, 1817

Bromington House

Manchester Square

London

Though it had been two days since seeing Peregrine had upset the dullness that her life had become as a companion, she hadn't been successful in evicting him from her mind.

Not that she'd had much time for herself. Since the rout, Mrs. Bromington had been annoyingly demanding, even more than usual. Yet the fact he was in London and a captain to boot kept sending heated anger into her cheeks. How dare he show his face in society as a celebrated sea captain, courting women as if he hadn't a care in the world, while the only way she could attend routs or balls was as a companion.

And, quite frankly, she didn't need the tabbies of the ton remembering her name or the old engagement. The complication came because she couldn't forget how those fleeting kisses to her neck had made her feel, and she rather missed that intimacy with him, but on the heels of that came another wave of sadness and grief from the consequences of the last time she'd given herself to him prior to what should have been their wedding day.

"Girl, the game only works if you keep your focus on the cards instead of woolgathering." The censure in her charge's voice yanked her from her thoughts.

"I apologize. Just stewing, I suppose." If she were honest with herself, she tried not to let jealousy eat her alive. Miss Beaufort hadn't been all that beautiful, but she was exceedingly young. Perhaps that was what he wanted now in his life.

"You forget, young woman, I have been at this business of living much longer than you. I know when a girl is distracted by a man." Mrs. Bromington shook her head, and the lace edging her widow's cap fluttered. She rapped the knuckles of one hand on the table where they were playing cribbage, or at least her charge was playing while Cora was pretending due to distraction.

"It won't happen again. He is not worth the tears." She frowned at the several cards in her hand. They were a mess, with none of them matching. "In fact, he isn't worth the thoughts, but yet he is there regardless."

"Then you are already defeated, and I won't have that." Mrs. Bromington huffed. She set down her cards, face up, on the table. Of course she had a whole suite. It was rare she ever lost at any card games they played. "By the by, your mind is never on our games. I know you aren't stupid, but you need to apply yourself, or at the very least, square with your life as it is now." After a huff of breath, she held Cora's gaze with hers. "It might not be ideal or the dream you once had for yourself, but you are not on the street nor on your back. That is something."

Perhaps she needed to show more gratitude in her life, even if her charge constantly worked her nerves. "I appreciate this position." She frowned at her cards, then with a sigh, she dropped them upon the table. "I never thought I would be nine and twenty, unmarried and unwanted." It was no doubt a mistake to share that with the widow for it would make her that much more vulnerable, but she couldn't help it. Since she'd arrived in London, she'd been isolated and with no one to talk to except for the maid.

"Some women take immediately in society; some do not. Marriage is no guarantee you will be happy." The older woman shrugged. The jeweled rings on her fingers sparkled in the sunlight streaming into the drawing room from the open windows. "Look at me, for example. I married at eighteen. Gave my husband forty years and four living children, three dead ones, while he spent that time at his clubs or at his textile business. Next thing I know, his heart attacks him three years ago, leaving me a widow and barely knowing the man he was."

"I'm sorry to hear that." It was the first time her charge had ever shared anything of a personal nature, and she was loath to interrupt. The puzzling thing about the widow was the fact that none of her children ever came to visit and she never visited them. Why?

"I can also tell when people lie to me." Mrs. Bromington winked. "Which you are doing now. You have no interest in me beyond the wages I pay."

"That isn't true." Cora frowned at the lady across the table from her. The steel gray curls, the droopy lace cap, the deep lines framing her mouth and her eyes, the wall she built about herself to keep from being hurt, all spoke to someone who had been disappointed in life and was largely dissatisfied. "I always hope you'll find a bit of happiness in this season you are living."

It would make her position a bit easier, anyway.

"Ha. I suppose it is a good thing you don't dissemble well." The widow shook a finger at her. "I also like how you don't let me cow you into submission."

Cora pointed her gaze briefly to the ceiling, but she couldn't help a small smile. "Perhaps your personality stirs my own." Yet she didn't want to become that bitter person later in her own life. "If fate intends to match me with a man, it will."

It was the widow's turn to huff. "Men are only men, and pinning your hopes onto them is a horrible decision."

"So say you, who have a fortune at your disposal. That isn't the experience of most of us." Cora gathered the cards from the tabletop. "My father's health is failing. The taxes on his country estate haven't been paid for more years than I can fathom. The paltry amount of coin I manage to send him monthly, I think, barely helps, and I rather doubt I'll catch the eye of a titled, rich man. Not here at least."

"You have my respect by wishing to help your father, but it is his mess, not yours." Mrs. Bromington shook her head. Truth shone in her faded green eyes. "A word of advice from one who has witnessed the comings and goings of the beau monde all her life. Most of those men drink to excess, bed anything in skirts, have the pox or other diseases, and are only loyal to those in power at the moment. Not a brain between them." She tsked her tongue. "You are better than that."

Cora stared as shock moved through her chest at the tiny compliment. "I am trying my best to survive at this point," she admitted. Though it was unlikely she would confide her secrets to her employer, this interlude was lovely and out of character for the widow. "If I could manage to release that dream of romance I've carried around with me since a young girl, I would be much more content."

"That's the spirit, and once you pass the six-month mark with me, perhaps I'll think about traveling the world with you." The widow gave her head an energetic nod. "Nothing worse than traveling with a mopey, moonstruck, or surly companion."

Yes, because surliness or bitterness is quite rare in this household.

The arrival of the butler spared Cora from making a verbal comment.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Bromington, but there is a Captain Wetherford here to see Miss Hasting." One of the man's graying red eyebrows rose as if it was the height of scandalous for a member of the staff to receive a social call. "Should I send him away?"

The heat of embarrassment went through Cora's cheeks as she darted her gaze to her employer. "I am so sorry. I never invited him to call," she said in a whisper.

"Oh, of that I have no doubt, but your eyes say otherwise." With a cackle of laughter, the widow rose to her feet. She smoothed her hands along the front of her rust-colored dress, took up her ivory-headed cane, and then moved across the room to occupy her favorite chair near the cold fireplace. From that vantage point, she could see the bulk of the drawing room, and nothing ever escaped her eagle-eyed gaze. "I need entertainment for the afternoon since Miss Hasting has proved a lousy card player. Send the captain up, Mr. Riley."

Oh, dear heavens.Panic rose in Cora's throat. She shot to her feet. "I don't wish to see him, Mrs. Bromington."

"I wonder if that is true, but we shall soon see." The widow's grin was this side of disturbing. "Since this is my house and I am bored as well as nosy, I'm going to allow his visit, merely so I can give him a dressing down and make it so he'll never wish to do something as daring as call again."

"Please don't." Cora's hands shook, so she fisted her fingers in her skirting. Today, the pink muslin stamped with tiny green vines didn't lend her confidence.

Mrs. Bromington waved her into the matching chair near hers. "Come now, girl. This will be so awkward and juicy that it will be a lovely interlude." She gestured at the butler. "Go ahead and send him up. Then order a tea service for us."

"At once, Mrs. Bromington." Then the butler departed the room, his tall form slightly bowed at the back.

"If you wish to receive him so badly, at least let me retire to my room," Cora begged as she perched on the edge of the chair. Knots of worry pulled in the pit of her belly, for after the charged words she'd hurtled at Peregrine, there was nothing else to say.

One side of the widow's mouth quirked in a grin. There was a predatory light in her eyes Cora didn't trust. "Hush, girl. I'll do what I please. Since you are my companion, you will remain by my side."

"Why do you delight in making those around you miserable?" Cora asked in a barely audible voice as she pleated a section of her skirting. Perhaps the preliminary bonding from earlier was an abnormality.

"When you reach my age of two and sixty, and widowhood, you'll find you need entertainment. Making people squirm and do my bidding is how I gain amusement." Then her attention pivoted to the door as Peregrine came into the room.

Drat the man's eyes!He was even more handsome in the daylight than he'd been in the shadows of the library the other day. Clad in buff-colored breeches and shiny Hessian boots, the lean and muscled firmness of his legs were unmistakable. Did he regularly ride, or did he prefer to walk in order to take exercise? She didn't know, but she couldn't stop staring at him. The sky-blue waistcoat embroidered with green vines and white birds drew the eye to his flat abdomen, and in the lawn shirt, a navy superfine jacket that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders as well as his wide chest, he was every inch a gentleman about Town. He held a beaver felt-top hat tucked beneath his left arm, and his chestnut hair had been arranged in a popular style without the aid of pomade.

There was no doubt his presence commanded attention from everyone he met, and in that moment, it didn't matter he apparently was tongued-tied. Cora shifted in her chair as their gazes briefly locked, and he slowly moved to the middle of the room. The closer he drew, subtle hints of his cologne or shaving soap teased her nose. As unobtrusively as she could, she took a deep breath and reveled in the scents of salt, the sea, and a hint of perhaps oak. Obviously, she couldn't be clear, but it didn't stop the desire to go over there and sniff his skin until she could identify the notes.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Bromington. Miss Hasting." The captain executed a slight bow from the waist, but his expression was one of unease as he bounced her gaze between them. "Thank you for allowing me to come up when you had every right to decline my entry."

Well, at least his manners were impeccable. Cora offered a slight nod but gave away no other clue as to how she felt.

Her charge, on the other hand, was much more animated. "Good afternoon, Captain Wetherford." The widow glanced at him as if he were horseflesh at Tattersalls. "Not exactly a looker, are you, with those horrible scars and burn marks."

"Life is sometimes harsh, Mrs. Bromington. Only the strong survive." He brought his free hand to the crisp folds of his cravat, checked the knot, and then dropped the hand to his side where his gloved fingers slowly curled into a fist then relaxed. "However, I appreciate your candor. Far too many people ignore my injuries, when we both know they exist."

Remarkably, the widow smirked. "Best test your mettle straightaway, hmm? What do you want with Miss Hasting?"

There was something to be said for her charge's direct attitude, for Cora was quite curious too. If Peregrine wasn't up to the task, she would destroy him with her acerbic tongue.

"No games with you, eh, Mrs. Bromington? I appreciate that as well. A man knows where he stands in your estimation without games."

She nodded. "I don't believe in playing at such things, and my time is valuable as well."

"Excellent way to live, for life is indeed short." With a slight grin, Peregrine widened his stance, and he was every inch the sea captain. Easily, she could see him standing on the deck of a schooner with the wind riffling through his hair, and the spray of the seafoam dampening his shirt. "As for Miss Hasting, she and I have history together; we were engaged."

"Ah, so that is the secret you've been keeping from me," the widow said as she swung her notice to Cora. She tsked her tongue. "Should have been honest, girl."

"It was an embarrassing time for me," she said in a whisper, desperately trying to ignore Peregrine, but his big presence filled the room. "I had no choice but to put the past behind me when I came to work for you."

The widow thumped the floor with the tip of her cane and once more focused on the captain. "Can I assume you cocked up the relationship in some way?"

Mottled color rose up his neck above his collar. "In hindsight, I could have taken care of things much differently." He glanced at Cora. "As I said the other night, I apologize for the broken engagement as well as other… liberties." After clearing his throat, he spoke again. "Since that accidental meeting at the rout, I haven't done a bang-up job of explaining myself."

For long moments, silence brewed throughout the room. Then Mrs. Bromington poked Cora's shoulder with a forefinger. "What have you to tell him?"

Obviously, the widow wanted her to tell him off, but suddenly, the perverse side of her wished to see the two of them argue. "Perhaps we should give him the opportunity to explain." Would his story change in a new day?

Peregrine shifted his stance, tucked his hat beneath his other arm, and let the fingertips of his left hand drift over his scars. "As I told you two nights ago, I had just received my orders to report and ship out the next day, and I didn't want to leave you a widow should I perish. Above everything, I was frightened of the responsibilities facing me." Honestly shone in his eyes.

"But if you truly loved me to begin with, none of that would have mattered." Tears rose in Cora's throat. She didn't want any of this to play out in front of her employer, didn't want to revisit the whys or wherefores. Not now, not when she was withholding a secret from him that she absolutely didn't want to speak in from of the widow. The truth of the matter was love could have met the challenges. "I meant what I said, Peregrine. I don't wish to see you again."

Pain shadowed his face, gone with his next breath. "While I can understand why you would say that, fate has decreed our paths should cross once more. Can you not put the mistakes of the past behind us to explore a friendship or at the very least so I can explain in my own words and not in front of an audience or a rushed conversation?"

She straightened her spine, for he sounded quite endearing. Part of her resolve crumbled. "That is—"

"No." Mrs. Bromington again thumped the tip of her cane against the floor. "I'm sorry, Captain, but if you think to worm your way back into Miss Hasting's good graces, that won't be allowed." Her frown was fierce as she glared at Peregrine. "She is my companion and the best of the lot I've had, so I'm not keen in releasing her. Especially not for a man."

While the captain's eyes widened with shock, Cora snorted. "I am not a prisoner here, Mrs. Bromington."

Although it felt like it sometimes.

"I never said you were, girl, but if you leave this position, I'll make it very uncomfortable for you to find another." The not-so-innocent statement was accompanied by a smile that was just as fierce and frightening as her stare.

A stab of annoyance went through Cora's chest, she blew out a breath. "Why would you do that? You said I was the best of the lot." Did no one appreciate her for merely… her?

The widow shrugged. "I'm old and my family has turned their backs on me despite my money." She chuckled as if that were the funniest joke she'd ever told. "Well, that and the fact I told them the coin would never be theirs because they're far too grasping. Fortunately, I need entertainment more than I require family connection." Yet there was a flicker of pain in her eyes that tugged at Cora's heart.

It seemed everyone was a little broken in this life, and that more compassion was required to keep them all grounded.

Even a widow whom she would like to toss out the window.

"I'm sorry you have such difficult relationships, Mrs. Bromington," Peregrine said in a voice modulated to soothe and placate. "That must rankle at times."

What was the dratted man about now?

"Don't trouble yourself, Captain. They made their decisions. So did I." She waved at him in dismissal. When the butler brought in tea service on a silver tray, she refrained from continuing until the repast was laid on a low table in front of her chair and Cora's. Once Mr. Riley left the room, she blew out a breath. "I am old enough that I have seen everything, outlived my husband and most of my siblings, bore children." She gestured at Cora to start pouring out. "When you reach this age, your days can grow stale and dull, so I like to make people do my bidding because I can."

"Do hush, Mrs. Bromington." Cora handed the widow a teacup. "We are not marionettes, and you are not a puppet master."

"I wouldn't be so certain, girl, though perhaps one of these days I'll compel you to dance." A cackle escaped her before she took a sip of tea. "So, Captain, now you know why I can't release my companion. The girl is my responsibility, and from what I can manage to piece together from everything the two of you haven't said, you wounded her greatly."

Cora paused with her hand outstretched as she offered him a cup of tea. What would he say? What did she expect him to?

"I can see you'll be stubborn about this. For the time being, I will retreat, but don't think you have won the war, Mrs. Bromington. I've never been one to run from a fight." Then he dismissed the older woman in favor of glancing at Cora. "I thank you for consenting to see me this afternoon, but know this. I shall call again, for I refuse to leave things at odds between us, regardless of what your dragon has to say."

Slowly, Cora pulled her hand and the teacup back. Without thinking, she took a sip then made a sound of disgust; Peregrine took his tea straight whereas she preferred it sweetened. "Have a lovely afternoon, Captain Wetherford. I wish you luck in your endeavors."

Did that mean she wished to encourage his efforts? It was too early in the conversation to say with any conviction.

After putting his top hat on his head, Peregrine touched the brim, nodded at them both, then took his leave.

"Mark my words, that man has nothing but trouble on his mind," Mrs. Bromington said with a shake of her head.

"I wonder." For long moments, Cora stared at the empty doorway and sipped at the unsweetened tea.