Chapter Six

May 22, 1817

The Albany

London, England

Peregrine frowned at his beagle, Matey, then transferred that frown to Charles. The viscount had come to inquire as to plans for the evening.

"Supper at the club, of course, but I have an errand before then—to call on Cora. Except the widow is maddening. There is no way to garner a few minutes with Cora while she's on guard," he complained to them both while scratching the beagle's ears. "And I rather doubt she truly cares about Cora. She merely doesn't wish for Cora to have a life beyond serving her."

His best friend shook his head. "Why do you care? I thought you'd decided to court Miss Beaufort and that Miss Hasting was firmly in your past."

Heat rose up the back of his neck and into his ears. "Yes, I did say that. However, unexpectedly meeting Cora the other night and seeing that I'd only chosen Miss Beaufort due to her being a watered-down version shook me to my core." That had really driven home the fact perhaps he hadn't truly forgotten what she'd once meant to him before he'd destroyed everything.

Viscount Maubrey looked at him with a hefty dose of skepticism. "Interesting how I can see it now that you've mentioned it." When he tsked his tongue, Matey bounded over to Charles' location by one of the windows in the drawing room. After ruffling the dog's fur and playing a mock-chase game, his friend undid the latch on the window and pushed open the glass. "Do you mean to pursue Miss Hasting again, or is what you are after merely closure?"

"Interesting question." Peregrine rubbed his fingers over his eyes. What exactly did he want from Cora? "When I accidentally misidentified her the other night, there had been an undeniable connection between us, which made sense since it was her."

"Then she dressed you down properly and ordered you from her life." The viscount meandered over to the sideboard and selected a cut-crystal glass. "Yet you made the decision to pay a call on her yesterday knowing full well the dragon she plays companion to wouldn't let you past the entrance to her den. Why?"

"I don't know." Yes, confusion currently swirled through his mind. "I'm days away from opening my shop, and that should excite me, but ever since I've returned to London permanently, I have felt there is something missing from my life." He moved over to the window, took deep lungfuls of semi-fresh air as the sounds of pedestrian and carriage traffic drifted to his location from outside. "I miss the excitement and adventure and mystery of the sea, and the only thing that ever came close to that was being in Cora's company."

"All of that is well and good, but you haven't answered my question." One of Charles' eyebrows rose in inquiry. "What do you want from Miss Hasting?"

God, why was this so difficult to ascertain? He kept his gaze on two young ladies on the pavement walking an exuberant Corgi. "At the moment, I want to make amends."

"Why?" Crystal clinked against crystal while the viscount poured out a measure of brandy.

"After she left the rout that night, and after I gave a mangled mess of an explanation of what had occurred to Miss Beaufort, a few people started conversations and a couple of them asked if I was the same man who'd been engaged to Miss Hasting years before." He turned away from the window to regard his best friend. "When I confirmed it, attitudes shifted and changed. In some corners, I was hailed a hero, but in others, I was a scoundrel."

"And?" Charles watched him from over the rim of his brandy glass.

"It made me feel more of a heel than I already do." He despised knowing he'd destroyed Cora's life and her chances for a future. Perhaps she could have been married by now if it hadn't been his careless actions that had caused her family to flee London. "I want to make amends, perhaps find redemption in her eyes."

"Why do you care so much? There is no need for you to ever see Miss Hasting again; you said it yourself. She is a companion. Your paths will never cross, yet you are driven to seek her out regardless that a handful of days ago, you were hellbent on courting Miss Beaufort." Charles sipped from his glass. "Does it go deeper than just redemption and forgiveness?"

Fragments of that night at the rout came back to him. The scent of her, the satiny warmth of her skin beneath his lips, the soft sounds she'd made in encouragement or pleasure with barely exploring her all worked to send a shiver of interest along his shaft.

"Honestly, Charles, I think I may still harbor feelings for her. Walking away from her on the morning of our wedding day was the biggest mistake of my life, and I didn't realize it until I saw her again."

Perhaps that made him a nodcock or a scoundrel, for he'd been away at sea for three years, and though thoughts of Cora had haunted him during that time, he'd been skilled in either ignoring those musings or shoving them to the back of his mind and keeping them in a box. He'd had a job to do while in the navy, and he'd climbed the ranks quickly due to his determination and focus. Distractions would have meant his downfall. When his injuries had sent him back to England, the urge to seek her out had nearly overwhelmed him at times, but he'd been too much of a coward, and now with his disfigurement, he suspected he wasn't good enough for her.

"Ah, now we're digging to the heart of the matter. You love her?"

"It is… complicated. Let us just say there is the possibility of that."

"I see." Charles came across the floor and then dropped into a leather chair. Immediately, Matey bounded over the carpet to plant himself on the toes of the viscount's boots. "Do you believe Miss Hasting will return your feelings?"

"Ha." Peregrine's chuckle was a bitter affair. "There is a good possibility she hates me to the end of time, but there are secrets and longing in her eyes that give me pause. Because of that, I believe there is a chance, a tiny hope, and what is more, she didn't shrink in revulsion when she saw the wreck of my face, only seemed concerned. I mean to pick at that until something gives." He shrugged. "If, at that time, she is adamant that she wants nothing else to do with me, I shall wish her well and go on my way."

"You mean bury yourself in your watch repair shop until the constant ticking drives you into insanity." Charles tempered the statement with a grin. "Listen, my friend. I didn't save your arse on that ship only for you to toss it away on an impossible endeavor that will ultimately cause you renewed pain."

"I appreciate that." Peregrine dropped into the matching chair. "Without you, I wouldn't be here, and I haven't forgotten my roots, but I can't help but feel there is something else for my destiny, and it in some way includes Cora." He tapped his chest with his fingertips. "That intuition is what I relied on throughout my time in the navy, and it has never steered me wrong."

"Very well." The viscount nodded. "Then I will do what I can to support you."

"Excellent. Now if only Cora will come 'round that easily." His grin felt entirely too cheeky. "But I do enjoy a challenge, and I've never had the opportunity to slay a dragon."

"Go carefully. I'd rather not see you further broken." Once more, Charles frowned. "Women come and go, but friendship and the love therein will endure long past everything else. I've heard tales that Mrs. Bromington has destroyed stronger men and women than you."

Peregrine leaned over and grasped his best friend's shoulder. "Fear not, Maubrey. I look forward to the fight. My sword has sat rusting for far too long. At least it will give me a purpose."

And that had been sorely lacking since his naval career ended.

*

Bromington House

Manchester Square

London

With his headfull of determination and a heart full of courage, around midday, Peregrine put Matey on a leather lead, and since it was a rare fair day, he decided to walk the mile and a half from his rooms in Piccadilly to Manchester Square. The dog needed to exercise his legs, and truth be told, so did he. The walk was pleasant and refreshing, and as he passed Berkley Square, Grosvenor Square and then further up, Bond Street, he couldn't help but whistle a jaunty tune as he went.

By the time he arrived at Manchester Square, his confidence was quite high.

"Ahoy, Matey, there is Number 12. Put on your most charming face," he said to the dog as he pushed open the wrought iron gate and urged the beagle up the short walkway to the red-painted door. Seconds later, his rap on the panel was answered by the same grim scare of a tall butler he'd met yesterday.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. I am here to call on Miss Hasting."

The man peered down his long nose at him. "I am sorry, Captain Wetherford, but Mrs. Bromington is not seeing visitors at this time."

He tamped down on the urge to curse. "I didn't ask to see her. I would like to talk with Miss Hasting."

Matey whined at the delay. He pulled at his lead, clearly anxious to go inside.

"I have my orders, Captain. When Mrs. Bromington isn't receiving, no one else is either." Then the door swung closed with a finality that stuck in Peregrine's craw.

Unable to loiter on the step, he turned away and retreated with Matey up the walkway. When they gained the pavement beyond, he frowned up at the brick fa?ade of the house. At the second-floor window which was the drawing room, movement at the glass indicated someone watched him. Was it the dragon or Cora?

With no way to tell for certain, he began the walk back to the building where his set was located.

"This is but one battle, Matey, and though we were defeated, I am quite tenacious and refuse to be routed by a crotchety widow."

Half an hour later saw him try again. Once more he'd walked to Manchester Square, and on this trip, Matey was more interested in sniffing every bush, tree, and gatepost along the way. Peregrine didn't mind, for he had restless energy crawling through his veins as well.

The second attempt at the door was met with defeat the same as the first. He held up a gloved hand, preventing the door from closing in his face. "When will the widow be open to receiving this afternoon?"

To his credit, the butler's lips twitched, but a grin or a laugh never materialized. "I couldn't begin to say, Captain Wetherford. She is quite unpredictable."

Or rather she is all too predictable.

"Inform your employer this will not deter me." With a definite growl in his voice, he turned Matey around and retreated.

The door closed soundly in his wake.

"Well, now the dragon has stoked my ire," he told his beagle as both stared at the wooden panel that had barred them entry. As soon as he cleared the gate and began his journey along the pavement back the way he'd come, an object came hurtling onto the pavement not three feet in front of him. "What the devil?"

With a joyful bark, Matey gladly retrieved the item and brought it back to Peregrine with a proud trot with a lady's slipper firmly wedged in his mouth.

"What have you got there?" He knelt on one knee in front of his dog in order to extract the slipper from the mouth before it was completely destroyed. As it was, there was only a slight scratch to the navy satin, and the sole was thoroughly used. Tied to the footwear with a length of twine was a folded piece of paper. "How exceedingly odd."

Matey barked, nudged the slipper with his nose. Clearly, he expected his treat to be returned.

As he stood, Peregrine unfolded the half sheet of stationery.

Captain,

I'm sorry Mrs. Bromington is being a stubborn arse today, as per usual. She is unusually agitated. However, she regularly takes a nap at three o'clock, so please return then, and I will make certain I was conveniently taking a walk at the same time.

With respect,

Cora

When he glanced upward, a window on the third floor was open and Cora herself stood at the window. She gave him a quick wave, put a finger to her lips signifying silence, and then just as quickly vanished. No doubt she was summoned by the dragon.

"It seems our luck is about to turn," he told the dog as he tucked both the note and the slipper into the pocket of his jacket. He tugged on the lead, prompting the dog to once more head back to where they'd started. "If the widow thinks she'll come out the victor, she can think again, for I am as stubborn as she. And now I have proof it isn't Cora who is asking her to send me away."

After clearing his head with a repast of tea and honey cakes while Matey wolfed down bits of chopped chicken and copious amounts of water, he rang for the curricle he owned but made payments on. The pair of carefully matched bay mares had been hand-selected by him, and after he'd secured the set at The Albany, he'd bought the horses, which also meant he had to pay to house them in the mews at the back of the building.

The one saving grace was the fact that Charles had already gone home, so he didn't bear witness to Peregrine's two defeats.

When he entered his curricle with Matey sitting on the seat beside him, he guided the mares along the street, and this time the short jaunt across Mayfair took no time at all. Three houses down from the one in which the dragon resided, he spied Cora strolling along the pavement.

"Good afternoon, Miss Hasting!" If his call was more excitable than normal, he couldn't help it, for his confidence level had rebounded after the first two rebuffs. "Fancy a ride through Mayfair?"

To her credit, she made a big show of glancing up and down the street, but there was hardly any pedestrian traffic. "What a lovely surprise to see you, Captain Wetherford," she said as she stood on the pavement, her face shaded by the brim of her straw bonnet. The violet hue of her dress made her seem like a summer flower, yet the color suited her petite frame. A matching satin ribbon was the only frippery that decorated the headgear. A touch of lace that lined the modest bodice drew his notice to her décolletage that was more tempting than he remembered. "It is indeed a wonderful day for a drive."

He couldn't help his grin while at the same time he exited the vehicle and came around to her side of it. "Does that mean you'll consent to go 'round Mayfair with me?"

Matey added his encouragement by giving an excited series of barks.

"Well, it is one of my days off." Cora came slowly toward the curricle. "Will we return within the hour? Mrs. Bromington only sleeps for an hour, possibly ninety minutes, and then she orders tea. That is when I read aloud to her from the book of her choice, so I can't come up missing."

"But you just said it was your day off." Truly, the dynamics between the two were confusing.

She shrugged. A trace of hopelessness skated over her face before she banished it beneath annoyance. "The widow only sometimes honors it."

Shock rolled through his gut and brought hot guilt on its heels. It was his fault she held this position and experienced very nearly the same treatment as a poor relation. "I promise I'll have you back before the dragon awakens." He tightened his fingers on the reins when the horses became antsy. "I also promise not to make an arse of myself."

For long moments, she held his gaze. Finally, she nodded. "You had better pray that Mrs. Bromington doesn't hear about this."

"She is not your keeper, and you are allowed to have a life of your own," Peregrine said as he assisted her into the curricle. A whiff of orange blossom and vanilla went into his nose, but she said nothing in response. "You are a member of the beau monde, Cora. You needn't act as if you are from the laboring class."

"I have responsibilities that determine otherwise." Then the whole of her attention landed on Matey as Peregrine resumed his spot on the bench inside the curricle. "Who is this charming fellow?" A giggle escaped her when the beagle immediately climbed into her lap and gave an enthusiastic lick to her chin.

His chest squeezed from the sound. For far too long, it had only haunted his memories. "His name is Matey, and ever since I got out of hospital and finally found a home on land, he's been my constant companion." It was a tight fit inside the vehicle, and his shoulder brushed hers. Awareness went through his body in a quick wave. "My first mate, as it were."

"How delightful!" She busied herself with giving the dog all the pets he wanted, and he responded as if he'd never had attention paid to him before. When she turned her head and glanced at Peregrine, he was temporarily at a loss for words. "Why have you been so insistent about calling on me? Wouldn't most men leave well enough alone?"

"I am not most people." The depths of her blue eyes beckoned like a lake in the summertime. "I wished to give you my sincere apologies for the wrongs and scandal I inadvertently thrust you into when I abandoned you on our wedding day." There was no use in delaying the mission.

Though his left side was to her right and there was no hiding his scars and burn marks, never once did she act as if he disgusted her.

"I appreciate the honesty. You and I were far too emotionally compromised the other night." Cora transferred her attention ahead of them on the road. The swish of the bay mare's tails punctuated the silence that had sprung between them. The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a hard swallow. "For so long I hated you, Perry. Hated what you did to me, hated that you were able to go on and have a life that you apparently enjoyed, without me and without consequence."

"Understandable." He could hardly force the word from a tight throat. "However, I am beginning to see what you went through, and how people perceive each of us separately following the engagement. And…" This was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done in his life. "Facing peril on the sea I could do, stare down danger without a flinch, but knowing you are forced to be companion to a dragon, feeling the crushing weight of guilt every day that goes by I simply don't know how to fight."

Matey, ever attuned to his moods, whined. He left Cora's lap to climb into his. The swipe of his warm tongue to Peregrine's chin made him feel a modicum better.

Silence roiled between them for long moments. He couldn't see the emotions in her eyes or on her face due to the shallow brim of her bonnet, but her gloved fingers, clasped tightly in her lap, spoke to her internal torment.

"Then you wished to speak with me, to make things right between us merely so that you will feel better." It wasn't a question.

"What? No, of course not." He huffed, prepared to take umbrage, but then another whine from his beagle and a thump of his tail tempered the reaction. "Well, yes, I would like to not feel tortured all the time. However, I wanted to make amends to you. I… I miss at least the friendship we used to enjoy." On the verge of babbling, he guided the horses down Bond Street. "I understand that I might not be your favorite person any longer, and I deserve your ire if you still wish to churn it, but at least know that I'm dreadfully sorry for what happened, and that I wish I could turn back the time and make it right."

"If that were to happen, would you follow your orders, or would you have married me, let us have that one night before you left?" The inquiry was couched in a choked whisper, and she stiffened on the bench beside him.

"Definitely I would have married you, given you a wedding night you wouldn't have soon forgotten, but the lure of the sea will always be part of me."

"You will go back?" This time she turned her head and sought out his gaze once more and there was a blush in her cheeks. Had she thought about said wedding night?

"I don't believe so, though I do miss the sound of the waves at times." He gathered the reins into one hand so he could pat Matey with the other. "Viscount Maubrey has invited me to his country property that has a view of the sea if the craving grows too acute."

"It must have been difficult for you, giving up something you loved through no fault of your own."

Did she refer to her or captaining his ship? He was far too much a coward to ask. "Indeed."

She frowned as she glanced about the narrowed, cobblestone streets lined with shops where people milled about on the pavement. "Why are we in this portion of Mayfair?"

"I wish to show you something." With his nerves fairly humming with nervous energy, Peregrine guided the horses into the cul-de-sac and then tugged on the reins in front of the still empty shop. "Do you see that space there? The one with the brown paper covering the window?"

"Yes, why?"

"I'm renting that shop. This time next week, I will be repairing pocket watches and selling nautical instruments." When he shrugged, his shoulder brushed hers, and another wave of heated awareness danced over his skin. He grinned when she looked at him. "On longer voyages, I learned how to take apart pocket watches and some smaller clocks, find out how they worked, and then put them back together. It's a talent I honed, that cleaning and repairing. Oddly enough, I enjoy it and it keeps my mind from spitting back anxiety or fear."

Compassion jumped into her eyes. "Do you often suffer from such?"

"Sometimes. More now that I look like this." He gestured to the side of his face.

"Please don't think less of yourself." When Cora lifted a gloved hand and lightly rested it against that side of his face, he stifled a gasp. "Has it made you stronger? I wouldn't doubt it, but you have also weathered that particular storm and now stand as a testament to that strength and a beckon of encouragement for other victims of war and military service."

"You don't believe I'm a monster?" The question was asked in a low voice as he leaned toward her.

"I do not." Her gaze briefly dropped to his mouth. "You are still the handsome man I used to know, and perhaps you've grown even more so. Don't let small-minded people demean your confidence." As she talked, she moved slowly toward him, and in the crowded space, it didn't take long for that distance to be closed.

"Thank you for that. I am quite conscious of how I appear to others, which is probably another reason I've avoided society events." With each word, his lips nearly brushed hers. It wouldn't take much to steal a kiss.

"Everyone has opinions, and most don't matter," she whispered. The heat of her breath warmed his cheek, his lips, and her fingers slipped from his cheek to his nape.

Dear God, he wanted—needed—to kiss her, to remind himself there might still be a sliver of a chance. Maneuvering around the beagle in his lap, he snaked his free hand to the side of her neck. Barely had his lips met hers when Matey, apparently miffed because no one paid attention to him, surged up between them, and he found himself with dog hair stuck to his lips and inside his mouth. "Bloody hell, Matey!"

A string of giggles came from Cora, but she also discreetly wiped at her mouth with the back of a gloved hand. "Oh, come here, you jealous little doggie." She pulled the beagle into her lap, uncaring about the dog hairs the animal shed upon her. When she met Peregrine's gaze, she offered him a small grin. "Though I cannot forget what you did to me years ago, after the past few days and seeing you work so hard to call on me, I forgive you."

The wave of relief that surged down his spine had his shoulders finally relaxing. "Thank you. I have long waited to hear those words." Perhaps it was just as well he hadn't kissed her, for that had the potential to become a disaster.

"Well, I should get you home." Clicking his tongue, he set his horses into motion.

"No doubt you have plans to see Miss Beaufort tonight, hmm?"

When he glanced at her, she'd turned her head to examine the shop facades they passed. "Uh, actually I'm taking dinner with Maubrey tonight. I have told Miss Beaufort there was no substance to our relationship and that she should cast her net again."

"Ah." She buried her face into Matey's fur. "You'd best hope it holds. A young lady like that might consider a bird in the hand too valuable to just release on a word."

"I have every confidence she will move on." He hoped, for being beside Cora again, listening to her voice and laughter, seeing how she interacted with his dog, dragged the old feelings for her out of storage.

Oh, he still wanted a courtship, but now he wanted it with Cora. Just as fate had decreed years ago.