Chapter Seven

May 22, 1817

Bromington House

Manchester Square

London

"Come, Mrs. Bromington. We must take advantage of the sunshine while we have it," Cora reminded the widow, for she had indicated an interest in taking the air at Hyde Park for a couple of hours. "You know you don't enjoy the trip if it's crowded."

And there was every possibility that Peregrine might just "happen" to run into them this afternoon as he'd hinted at when he drove her home yesterday.

"Don't rush me, girl." Her charge had done nothing but grouse since she awoke that morning. Most of it was ignored by the staff, yet it was still annoying at times. "The old bones don't move as fast as they used to," she continued as she made her way down the stairs to where Cora waited.

"You are quite gifted in dissembling, Mrs. Bromington. There is nothing wrong with you that a little fresh air and a stroll around the Serpentine can't cure." In fact, the woman was still quite spry in her movements as well as how her mind worked. It was a constant choice to prove recalcitrant.

"Just wait until you are my age, young woman. Perhaps then you'll be gifted with compassion, or hope someone shows you the same." If possible, the widow descended even slower than she had before. "We shouldn't go out today at all. My bones ache."

"No, you don't wish to go because I might enjoy myself," Cora countered, determined not to let the woman burrow beneath her skin.

During the brief ride with Peregrine, she had come to a greater understanding of the man. Truly, he had been all too honest in his apology, and since it wasn't in her nature to hold a grudge or continue to show anger toward another person, she had forgiven him. Perhaps she should have held her ground; what he'd done to her reputation and her future had been terrible enough, but acting in such a manner would eventually make her like Mrs. Bromington, and that was something she actively wished to avoid.

"I don't pay you to enjoy yourself," the widow said as she finally gained the ground floor. She thumped the tip of her cane against the floor. "I pay you to follow my dictates."

Reminding herself that her charge was forever in a foul mood because she'd pushed everyone in her life away for whatever reason, Cora offered her employer her crooked arm. "You pay me begrudgingly regardless, so I may as well find some joy in my position." As quickly as she could convince the other woman to go, she moved them both into the short entryway where Mr. Riley assisted the widow into her spencer of a moss green brocade. Cora merely had a light wrap about her shoulders, for the day was quite fine for late May, and she wished to soak up every bit of the sun.

"Ungrateful young woman." Mrs. Bromington sniffed. "I assume you took your customary walk yesterday while I napped."

Not for worlds would she let on that she'd done anything other than walk. "I did, for it was one of my days off." And thank goodness for that. The drive through Mayfair next to Peregrine had brought back not only memories but had also awakened old feelings she'd thought long dead.

Not that she was interested in having him back in her life for anything other than perhaps friendship.

The widow sniffed. She allowed Cora to lead her out of the house. "Mr. Riley told me Captain Wetherford called a couple of times, but that he wasn't allowed entry."

"Oh, did he?" If her charge insisted on playing games, she would do the same. The widow had previously instructed her butler not to show the captain up regardless. "I hadn't been aware."

"The man isn't good for you; none of them are, in fact."

Cora kept her own counsel as she and the driver assisted the older woman into the open carriage. It had belonged to Mr. Bromington, and since it had been paid for, she kept the vehicle and paid for its upkeep for the few times she might like to leave the house. Errands she had were never run by herself. Usually, she coerced a maid or the butler to do them for her.

"I never said I wanted one," she said as she joined her employer in the carriage. After exchanging a speaking glance with the driver, she told him to take them to Hyde Park, for the widow wished to take in the air.

"Of course, Miss Hasting."

Mrs. Bromington frowned as the carriage lurched into motion. "I can take in the air perfectly well from the vehicle. No need for me to get out."

With the last vestiges of her willpower, Cora stopped herself from saying exactly what was on her mind. "Exercise is good for you. It keeps you young."

"Why the devil would I want to extend my life when it's already horrid?"

Why indeed?

"No doubt that is largely due to your decisions." So much for not saying what was on her mind. She stared the other woman down. "If you want love, put that out into the world. If you want friendship, do the same. People aren't willing to gravitate toward someone who is full of vinegar." Her smile felt all too false, but she did it anyway. "I, for one, look forward to a few hours in the park, watching the ducks and geese on the water. There is more to life than hiding away inside one's house."

At least she hoped so, for there had to be more than being the widow's companion.

A grudging respect reflected in the older woman's eyes. "You are quite something, Miss Hasting." She brushed a speck of dust from her green skirting. "I read in the paper the other day that your sister married a viscount. Something about him being one of London's biggest scoundrels. I assume that was the reason you needed a holiday last month. How does your family feel about her choice in husband?"

That was a valid question, and one Cora herself had pondered since Mia wed the love of her life. "Mama is thrilled, of course, but I think Papa is more reserved about it. However, it was Mia's choice indeed, and love is a very powerful force." She shrugged. "My sister is the practical one, so if she found something redeemable in her husband, I don't doubt her."

Mrs. Bromington sniffed. "You young girls and your adherence to love being a forever sort of thing." The widow waved a hand in dismissal. "It only lasts as long as the other person wishes it to."

That was a truth Cora was only too familiar with. "On this I will agree with you. However, it doesn't mean we should lose hope or let ourselves turn sour." Once more she offered a smile. "Besides, there are many different sorts of love. Perhaps you should concentrate on some of them to reignite the beauty of the world around you."

"Surely, you aren't thinking about letting that stubborn captain back in your life, are you, girl? You can do better than him, and he's disfigured besides."

Hot anger lanced through Cora's chest. "A person's looks have nothing to do with the state of their heart or soul." How dare the woman demean Peregrine for something he'd had no control over!

"Then from your own words, the captain's heart was in the right place when he allowed your reputation to be shredded the morning he begged off from marrying you?" One of her thin, gray eyebrows rose in challenge. "Was his soul clear when he left you drowning in scandal so he could sail the seas and no doubt bed anything in skirts at whatever port he pulled into?"

Cora sputtered, but deep down, she'd had the same worries as Mrs. Bromington had just expressed. Had he given her empty words yesterday when all along he'd been out sowing wild oats while in the navy? "I cannot speak to that. We met at a society event four years ago. He was on extended leave to help his mother when his father died." Prior to that, he'd already served in the navy for two years.

"Cling to your morals, my girl. Men like him are nothing but trouble. His mistress will always prove the sea. If he left you once, he'll do it again."

If there was one thing the widow excelled in, it was preying upon Cora's insecurities. "We are not together, Mrs. Bromington, so please don't worry yourself." It wouldn't do to make the woman aware of the almost-kiss of yesterday afternoon. If it hadn't been for that sweet beagle, she would have kissed the man who'd ruined her life.

Forgiveness was good for the soul, but taking steps to open the door to let a man make the same mistakes? That was quite another.

Some of the joy and anticipation had faded from the outing.

"Men are lovely in their place, but they only ever want a quick tup. Don't give them access to your heart or emotions, for you will come away hurt every time. Trust me on that." Mrs. Bromington leaned forward and patted Cora's knee. "I'll keep you from such a fate; you and I will get on just fine, I think. Perhaps we shall spend Christmas in Rome. The sun and warmth will be most welcome during that time, and it will get you away from London and him."

She said nothing except gave a tight nod. Had the widow said the truth of it? Was Peregrine that type of man? Certainly, they had anticipated their wedding night years ago, which had led to disaster and heartbreak, yet they were both different people now. It was too confusing to think about, for his return had her at sixes and sevens, but that longing—that hope—she kept hidden deep in her soul refused to fade.

Only time would tell.

Eventually, the carriage arrived at the main arch of Hyde Park.

"I am looking forward to our stroll, Miss Hasting." She slipped a hand about the upper portion of Cora's arm, and it was almost as if a shackle had gone around her. "You were correct when you said I should go outside."

Of course she was pleased, for with a few strategically placed words, she'd stolen Cora's positive outlook. "It is indeed a fine day. Many people are out strolling and riding. Quite fashionable, really." But there was no enthusiasm in those words. Even she heard it in her tone.

A half hour later saw them at the narrow portion of the Serpentine where it was more river than lake. Sunlight sparkled on the constantly moving water like thousands of diamonds. The faint quacks of ducks and honks of geese blended with calls and laughter from people picnicking on the lawn. Shrieks of delighted children echoed through the air as governesses and parents chased energic little ones, while even more splashed at the edges of the water.

"I'm told my grandchildren adore the park," Mrs. Bromington said, and the wistful note in her voice caused Cora to frown.

"Why do you not call upon them? I'm certain the children would adore seeing their grandmother." She remembered how lovely it had been to spend time with her own grandmama. Her chest tightened to think her charge's stubbornness was putting up walls between everyone in her life.

"Bah." The widow tsked her tongue. "If my children wanted me to see theirs, they would have treated me better after their father died. They are aware of how to contact me."

"That is quite sad, Mrs. Bromington." Cora had no idea what she would do without her tightly knit family to support her or bring comfort. "My family is everything to me." She nearly dissolved into tears, for she thought, hoped, dreamed she might have had her own family by this time before fate yanked that from her.

"Don't think to lecture me, Miss Hasting. I have far too much experience and I know my reasons why I am alone." Then her eyes brightened beneath the brim of her bonnet. "Oh, look! There is Lady Heretsford and Mrs. Stapleton. I haven't seen them since Christmas." She released Cora's arm to wave at two matronly ladies sitting not far from their location. A maid and a footman stood by a grouping of boulders, clearly at the ready while tea was served. "Can you entertain yourself for an hour while I visit with them?"

"I will certainly try." A weight seemed lifted off Cora's shoulders, for she'd been given a reprieve. "You don't wish for me to stay near?"

The widow snorted. "I should say not. Some gossip shouldn't reach the staff's ears."

Ah, then that whole bit about being concerned for her wellbeing while in the carriage had been naught but an act. When will I learn? "Enjoy yourself, then."

Mrs. Bromington left Cora's side, and remarkably, the stiff joints and aching muscles the old woman complained of before seemed healed.

Dear heavens, why do I very much wish to toss her into the water?

Truly, her charge was the most impossible person she had ever interacted with. After watching the widow greet her friends, Cora took a few deep breaths and let them out, then she gained the bridle path with the intent to lose herself in the less populated portions of the park merely to have time to herself.

And think.

The more distance she put between herself and her charge, the less beaten down she felt. Cora lifted her face to the sunshine, and then when she moved beneath the canopy of trees, she smiled in wonder at the light as it filtered through the leaves.

"Is there more of a lovely sight than seeing a beautiful woman in such a setting?"

At the sound of Peregrine's voice, her heartbeat tripped then accelerated. She put a hand to her throat as he approached her from the other direction on the path. "Perry." The word was quite a breathless affair. "I wasn't certain you would be in the park today."

"I told you that I would yesterday." When he grinned, she suddenly felt like tittering as if she were a girl at her Come Out. "I might not have kept my word years ago, but since we were last together, I have made it a point to do so."

Not knowing what to say or how to order her muddled thoughts after what Mrs. Bromington had said, Cora nodded. "I have an hour free. My charge is with friends at the moment, and knowing her penchant for gossip, she'll be occupied for some time." Quite frankly, she wasn't keen on returning to the woman just now.

He nodded. "Then we will make the best use of this boon." When he offered her a crooked arm, Cora sighed as she slipped her fingers onto the sleeve of his jacket of bottle-green superfine. "You seem discomfited today. Has something occurred? Is all well?"

Well, he was attuned to her moods. It was rather… lovely. "Mrs. Bromington has been a trial today. She cautioned me against getting involved with you, for you would only break my heart again."

The muscles in his arm went taut beneath her gloved fingers. "Pay her no mind. She is alone for a reason, and she means to drag you with her for as long as she can."

"I realize that, but I cannot help but think some of what she's said makes sense."

"Meaning?"

"I suspect it hurt her deeply when she lost her husband."

"Which was what I tried to spare you from when I broke our engagement."

"Yes, so you have said, and I can appreciate that now, yet I fear my ability to make my own decisions is faulty. If I say I want romance in my life again, Mrs. Bromington will call me a fool, but if I decide to become a spinster, will I hate myself?"

"These are the things only you can answer, but I will say I have struggled with the same. In the end, when I returned to London, I wanted to toss my loneliness into the sea, which resulted in seeking out a suitable lady to possibly court."

"Miss Beaufort might not be a good match," she said, and with horror heard the same disparaging tone in her voice that Mrs. Bromington had used on her.

"I have since come to realize that for myself." His deep chuckle resonated in her chest. Tiny flutters moved through her lower belly. "Truth be told, she is a poor replacement for you."

How interesting. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as she turned her head and peered up at him. "What exactly do you want from me? Is it only friendship?" Due to their history and the already mercurial emotions they'd both displayed since his return, she didn't feel the need to dance about the issue.

Or more to the point, what did she want from him?

"Before I answer that question, we should come to know each other a bit better. I suspect we have both changed in a myriad of ways since that morning at the church." When he grinned, the gesture didn't send light dancing in his eyes, but it did pull the scars at the side of his face.

"Very well. I had a mind to get lost in the more remote portions of the park. Perhaps even more so now." The scent of him wafted to her nostrils and she unobtrusively breathed it in. That heady smell combined with the summertime world around them set her at ease. What was more, having someone she used to know with her in London eased the solitude a tiny bit.

"Then you are in luck, for I know just the place you might remember. I hope you still think of it fondly."

When they came to a spot where the path branched, he took the lesser fork. A set of stone stairs cut into the side of a soft hill led them downward. The lower path winded about through groupings of trees, and by the time they came to a small wooden footbridge over a babbling brook, awareness and memories crashed over her.

"This is where you proposed to me," she said in a low voice, for that had been at least four years before. They'd enjoyed an engagement of a couple of months before wishing to marry; he'd been concerned he'd be recalled to service regardless of him being in mourning.

War didn't make concessions for life's foibles.

"Yes." Except he didn't lead her to the bridge as she assumed. Instead, he continued farther down the path until he came to a stone bench that rested near a moss-covered statue of Athena. Vines and shrubbery had nearly reclaimed the statue. "I don't wish for that unforgettable moment to color what might become a new one."

"I don't understand." Why did he need to speak in riddles? When he gestured at the bench, she frowned, for that had also been claimed by moss, and though she wasn't vain, she didn't want green stains on her ivory dress.

"Pardon my lapse." Quickly, Peregrine divested himself of his jacket. Once he'd draped it over the bench, he encouraged her to settle. "During my second stint in the navy, it was every bit as exciting and full of adventure as I could have hoped."

She frowned at her lap, pleated her skirting until the maroon stripes disappeared into the ivory. "You had more fun at sea than you would have in being a husband." It wasn't a question.

"I rather doubt that, for any man worth his salt that would take you on would never find himself bored." It was a lovely compliment whether he knew it or not. "Especially the woman you have grown into in my absence."

Heat slapped at her cheeks. "I have had to be strong in more ways than one."

"Again, I am sorry for the part I played in that." Peregrine paced back and forth in front of the bench where she sat. "My point in bringing up those years was in the quiet of the nights, when it was just me and the star-strewn endless night skies, when the wind blew over my face and I watched the moon traverse the heavens, I wondered if you were looking up into those same stars, conversing with that same moon. I hoped you might give me a kind thought as I did you."

"That's lovely." Cora's throat constricted from his admission. She owed him one of her own, and this conversation was long overdue. "I couldn't help but think of you, and there were a few reasons for that. In the beginning, I missed you fiercely, where I could alternately carve out your heart for your defection or hope to bring you back to me merely by calling you forth from my thoughts."

Briefly, he put a hand over that organ. The pain that shadowed his eyes tugged at her compassion. "And after that?"

She shrugged. "I taught myself to forget you, forbid myself from thinking about you at all, especially after…"

Oh, dear heavens, how could she tell him this next bit?

"After what?" Peregrine paused in front of her, worry in his expression, the scars and burn marks that marred the side of his face stark in the dappled sunlight.

"Ah…" Perhaps she was a ninny, but she couldn't bear to watch his eyes, so she focused on her hands in her lap. "Shortly after our engagement broke and you left, it became evident that I was with child." The words were barely audible, prompting him to draw nearer. "Two months along, a product of that wonderful night we'd come together."

"In that field on your father's country property," he said in a whisper.

"Yes." She nodded but kept her attention on her hands. It had been so long since she'd thought about that day. The memories overwhelmed her, and as they crashed into the secret hope that had been dashed for her, tears welled in her eyes. "No one in my family knew except Nora. She suspected, so I confided in her, swore her to secrecy, for bearing a child out of wedlock would have broken our parents' hearts." A teardrop fell to her hand, then another that stained her skirting. "I wanted that child, Perry. It would have been a part of us both, someone I could have loved of my very own, a reminder of you, who I didn't have any longer."

"What happened?" He sat on the bench next to her, a close fit to be sure because he was a rather large man.

"Fate? My body not quite ready? The stress of the broken engagement?" She shrugged and finally raised her gaze to his. Shock and sadness warred for dominance there. "I lost the babe three months into the pregnancy. Thank goodness no one else suspected. Nora told the family at large I was abed with a stomach ailment that was quite nasty. That explanation kept most of them away, and eventually I recovered. Physically, I mean." She sniffed and wiped at her tears. "I don't suppose I will ever forget that child, will always remember when it should have been born, wonder what it might have looked like."

"Ah, Cora. I don't know what to say." Before she could respond, he gathered her into his arms and held her.

That simple touch, the familiar comfort, was so unexpected and soothing that she melted into him. "I was devastated for a long time after that."

"I can just imagine." The warmth of his breath skated across her cheek while the strength of his arms around her invited her to fall apart, if only for a few moments. "If I had but known, if you had written, I would have done everything in my power to come home, to marry you, enjoy being a father…" A choked sound interrupted his words.

"I didn't know where to write or even how I would have told you. It seemed crass to break that news in a letter." When a trace of moisture came away on her cheek, Cora marveled over the fact he cried along with her. "You wanted a family?"

"At the time? It terrified me, that responsibility and wondering if I would fail."

"And now?"

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his gloved hands. "I rather think I'd be a good father, or at least that is the hope." The crooked grin sent flutters tumbling once more through her lower belly. "It is time to begin the next phase of my life, don't you think?"

Did he mean to do that with her?

"Yes, I actually do." Her gaze dropped to his mouth. "And I hope you are that someday. You are too good a man to remain by yourself."

"Which brings us 'round to your original question: what do I want from you." Yet he didn't continue with words. Instead, he cupped her cheek, drew his kid-covered thumb along her bottom lip while his eyes bore into hers. "I would like a second chance, to correct the mistakes I made before, to show you how wrong I was."

Did it make her a ninny as Mrs. Bromington assumed that the statement had some of the bricks around her heart crumbling? In this moment, she didn't care, for she and Peregrine had bonded in grief, had admitted to truths they probably would have kept hidden if a meeting hadn't come about accidentally.

"I wouldn't say no, but I'm not certain I'm strong enough to survive potential heartbreak again."

"There are times in life when we must trust that faith will put wind in our sails to carry us to safety." Then he crushed his mouth to hers, drew her close against his chest as he kissed her with every ounce of tenderness and gentle caring she'd kept in her memories of him. And she encouraged him at every step. With a sound of acceptance or surrender, Cora slipped her arms about his shoulders, reveled at their breadth and the feel of him in her arms, and she returned each overture. His lips were firm but yielding as they moved over hers. When he licked and nibbled at the corners of her mouth, she wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet.

Dear heavens, how she'd missed him!

Eventually, they parted and had no choice but to stroll back toward the path where they'd met while talking of nothing in particular. Things had subtly shifted between them to a point where she couldn't wait to explore the new direction, regardless of whether Mrs. Bromington sponsored it or not.

Then the bottom fell out of her stomach when Peregrine was hailed, and what was more, she recognized that voice.

"Captain!"

They both halted and turned toward the young woman running in their direction with a maid trotting along behind her.

A groan issued from him. "Bloody hell."

"I'm so glad to glimpse you, Captain, for I wished to speak with you since the night at the rout." Miss Beaufort's explanation was slightly breathless as she closed the distance. "I know you told me to chase after someone else, but I'm not about to give up on you."

"You haven't." It wasn't a question.

"Yes!" She smiled, and showed entirely too many teeth. "We will suit, I just know it." The whole time, she studiously ignored Cora. "I can even learn to overlook those scars, for you are quite a handsome catch."

Cheeky girl.

The scars were as unique to Peregrine as his grin or the way his eyes sparkled when he was particularly amused. Still, jealousy stabbed through Cora's chest. Would the flattery manage to convince him? She glanced between them, only somewhat mollified that he looked quite perturbed. "What are you waiting for, Captain? The girl obviously wishes to talk with you most desperately. I need to check on my charge, besides."

"But…" The look he gave Cora brimmed with annoyance and indecision. "We are not finished with our conversation."

The hint of command in that sentence sent shivers of awareness zipping down her spine. "If you manage to puzzle things out, you know where to find me."

In some aggravation, Cora left him to his fate. If he wanted to gain back her good graces, he would put a period to whatever was between him and Miss Beaufort. She wouldn't tolerate shared allegiances or distractions, nor would she have him keep an easier mark to fall back on if they couldn't get along.

Best to have the truth out now before her heart was engaged a second time.