Chapter Nine

May 25, 1817

Peregrine couldn't ignore the fact that he was in a rotten mood.

He hadn't seen Cora in two days, not since she'd ignited fires in his blood, kissed him as if he'd been the only man in the world, and then she'd pushed him away, cutting the chances of a quick tryst short. It had resulted in him hovering in a state of semi-arousal and grumbling to the point that Charles had made jest of him last night at the club.

To top it off, it was raining.

"Are you going to stand at the window all day or will you actually go do something about your current obsession?" A hint of amusement went through the viscount's voice.

With a huff, Peregrine wrenched himself out of his thoughts. He and Charles had taken luncheon at the club, for his friend had duties to his parents later. Somewhere in another room, a longcase clock chimed the two o'clock hour. "You're right. It's Sunday. I need to stop stewing and call on Cora once more."

"More than that, you need to bed the woman, put her from your mind, and then concentrate on opening your shop." Charles clapped a hand to Peregrine's shoulder. "If you mean to court her, then do it, but if you don't, cut her loose. It's not fair to either of you."

"True." He turned about to regard his friend. "I'm nervous, though."

"Why? You aren't part of the navy any longer, so you won't chase after the sea, and you aren't given over to chasing skirts."

"Why?" Rubbing his eyes, Peregrine sighed. The problem wouldn't be easily solved. "I'm afraid I haven't adequately convinced the lady she can trust me. And she's skittish."

"I thought she was amenable to your suit."

"So did I. It matters not if we connect physically, she falls back on responsibilities to her family, as if she's their only damned savior." He shook his head. "While I appreciate that she wishes to help pay the back taxes and keep the hall's roof over her family's head, at some point, her parents need to accept their part in said responsibility. Otherwise, she is always going to be held hostage by them."

And in the process, she would sacrifice her life for theirs.

"To say nothing about the dragon she looks after."

"Somehow, I feel the dragon would be the lesser of two evils." Compassion reflected in Charles' eyes. "You have already gone out of your way merely to see her. However, if you can honestly see a future with her, you must find a way to persevere."

"I am beginning to realize that." As he blew out a breath, he readjusted the knot of his cravat.

"Yet you hesitate. Why?"

"I am afraid." It was difficult to admit, but his best friend would never steer him wrong.

"Of what?"

He shrugged. "Of failing. Of disappointing her again." It had the potential to beget nightmares.

"What of failing yourself, disappointing yourself if you don't create a life that you can be proud of, that you want deep down in your heart of hearts?" Charles frowned. "You didn't survive the incident that should have killed you to languish now."

"I know."

"And I didn't risk my life to pull your unconscious body out of the fire to see you humiliated. Perhaps if Miss Hasting isn't moving along those same lines, she is not the one you need regardless of what your prick thinks."

It was a hard conversation, and even harder truths to accept. "Thank you, my friend." He tugged on the bottom of his jacket, the same blue superfine he'd worn before. On a captain's pension, he wasn't afforded to keep a large wardrobe. "I suppose I should go discover if I'll meet my destiny today or if fate will hand me yet another obstacle."

"I'll come 'round tomorrow to hear the tale."

"Let us hope it's favorable."

*

The rain hadn'tlessened by the time he pulled up in front of Bromington House. Thank goodness he hadn't brought Matey with him today, for the dog would have tried to jump out of the vehicle multiple times; he adored the rain… and the mud it made.

At the same time, the red-painted door opened, and the object of his quest came out of the house. Pale blue skirting stamped with tiny blue dots rippled in the breeze, while a plain ivory spencer and straw hat kept the rain from her person.

"Cora!" Would she hear the hail above the rhythmic drum of the rain?

Her head jerked upward. "Peregrine?" She lifted a gloved hand in greeting as she came toward the conveyance, and he climbed down from it. "I wasn't certain you would call, so since I had an errand, I decided to run it instead of foolishly waiting for you."

"I deserve that, but I'm here now." When she joined him on the pavement, he slipped a hand around the upper portion of her arm. "Come with me. I'd be delighted to drive you to wherever you need so you needn't walk in the rain."

"Then I accept. I do detest the rain." She let him assist her into the vehicle then smiled at him when he resumed his own seat. "Where is Matey?"

"At home, probably sleeping. He is rather exuberant in the rain and makes a disgrace of himself in the gutters." With a smirk, he set his horses into motion. "I didn't think you'd want your skirting muddied as well as covered in dog hair."

"Good heavens, Mrs. Bromington had much to say about the stray dog hairs on the furniture." She twisted the strings of her reticule around her gloved fingers. "The woman is intent to drive me to Bedlam."

"I won't argue the point, but I'm curious why you think so, beyond the obvious."

A sigh escaped her. "For the past two days, she has been hinting that my attention has been divided and that if it doesn't improve, she will be forced to sack me."

"Ah, let me guess, without references? Because she is that petty?"

"Yes." Cora nodded. "One of the maids confirmed to me that's what she did with all my predecessors."

"How outrageous. She is quite horrid." Perhaps he ought to act the gentleman and leave her alone. When Cora didn't comment, he continued. "Where does your errand take you? Surely not for more candles or handkerchiefs."

"No." Though she smiled, it wasn't reflected in her eyes. "To be honest, Mrs. Bromington didn't need any of those items urgently. She merely wanted you out of the house."

"Oh, I am quite aware, but I long ago learned the art of patience." He kept his gaze on the horses' ears. "She doesn't like me."

Cora snorted. "She doesn't like anyone. I think it's because deep down, she's hurting and lonely. She's been disappointed and disenchanted by life and is terrified of having that continue."

"That doesn't give her leave to act nasty toward others, especially those trying to help." Hot guilt rose in his chest. "Again, I apologize for putting you in the position of which you needed to take a paying position."

For long moments, Cora remained silent. Then, "It was unfair of me to blame all of this on you. Yes, my reputation was destroyed when you ran out on me, which meant decent men wouldn't take a chance on me. Beyond that, my reputation would have been shredded if my pregnancy had been made public. However, my father's negligence in not paying his bills was what prompted me to make a living."

Little by little, the tension faded from his shoulders. At least she could admit that. "In this life, men—and women—must take responsibility for their own mistakes. I have certainly learned that in recent months." Taking the reins in his right hand, he held one of hers in his left. "Mistakes help us course correct and find the path we should be walking. They are not there to shame us."

"I was never ashamed of being with child. It was something of you I could have with me always," she admitted in a barely audible voice that was snatched away by the sound of the rain.

A lump of emotion formed in his throat. "I don't know what to say."

"There is no need to say anything." She squeezed his fingers. "We needn't do the errand today. It can wait, for it's not important."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Awareness danced over his skin. "What do you wish to do instead?"

"Surprise me, Perry. I have had precious little of that in my life for quite a while." But that look in her eyes practically begged him to take her to bed.

"Very well." The same need lanced through his shaft as he manipulated the reins. "We will go to my shop. It'll be out of the rain, and I do have the capability of making a kettle of tea." Perhaps she would think the shop quaint. "By the by, I've chosen a name for it."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Charts and Springs." He shrugged. "It's not much, but those in the know will appreciate it, and perhaps with time, it will prove successful."

"It has promise, to be sure. Will you live above the shop?"

"I could if I wished, but I'm rather content in my set now. Should my future circumstances shift, I will consider it." Yet was that any sort of life to offer a potential wife? He didn't want to rush his fences.

"Life certainly didn't turn out as we'd dreamed, did it?"

"No, but that doesn't mean it can't be even better than that."

There was a mews house not far from his shop's location, accessed through a series of turns and alleyways, but it would do for a few hours to have someone take care of his horseflesh. After tossing a few coins to the stable hand, he escorted Cora back 'round to the street side and they scurried along the pavement until they reached his shop.

Seconds later, he ushered her inside, then closed the door behind them.

"This is going to be lovely once you fully unpack." As she wandered about the cozy room, she removed her bonnet and her gloves, which she rested on a polished wooden counter. "Already I adore how you've stocked the shelves."

For the first time he saw the place through new eyes. Immediately to a potential customer's left and right, wooden shelves lined the walls. Books on nautical subjects, astronomical charts, star guides and such were contained there as well as navigational instruments sailors needed to way find, along with spyglasses, clocks and the like.

A round table graced the center of the room, also highly polished, and would eventually display pocket watches, both aged and the newest models. At one end of his counter was a glass display case where he would put the more valuable things such as jewelry, pistols, silver grooming sets, or instruments made of brass and silver.

"I believe I'll have some sort of success. The sign painter will be here in two days. Hopefully during that time, I'll have the remainder of the stock that is in the back room out on the floor." He shot her a grin. "I'll admit, I'm quite excited to start."

"You should be." Slowly, she manipulated the frog fastenings of her spencer. "Will you show me the upstairs space?"

"Of course, but be warned, there isn't much in the way of furniture or décor."

"That doesn't matter. I am proud of you, regardless."

The unexpected praise warmed him, and he didn't realize how much he'd missed that since leaving the navy. "Thank you." He gestured her around the counter. "Come. I'll give you a quick tour." When he led her into the back room, most of the room was lost in shadows, for there wasn't a window there. Crates and boxes had been crammed into the space to line the walls. A sturdy oak desk had been situated in a corner. "I expect I'll have to manage the books by myself until I turn enough profit to hire on a clerk."

"I can ask my sister if her husband can recommend someone. I seem to remember the girl she was a companion to married a banker earlier this month."

"That would be appreciated." A narrow wooden staircase was accessed at the back of the front room. Upstairs, the space was divided into a small, cramped sitting room and a bedroom. "Good for a bachelor quarters, but I can't envision raising a family here." Neither could he do the same at The Albany. A chuckle left his lips. "It reminds me much of being on my ship." He removed his gloves and rested them on the top of a box. His top hat followed.

"It is good for your needs at the moment." She touched his shoulder as she looked about the nearly empty rooms. "Don't rush your life or your accomplishments. You should enjoy them; you have worked hard for them."

"As long as you remember the same. Surviving Mrs. Bromington is quite the achievement."

"Yes, it is." With a glance about the empty rooms, she made her way back down the stairs. "When will you take the paper off the front window?"

"As soon as I'm ready to open. Should be the middle of next week, but I have a few speaking engagements on the schedule as well, so I should amend my statement to say when time allows."

"I would be more than happy to come by on my next day off. Perhaps my employer might need a spyglass." She winked as she removed her spencer. "It would be easier on her eyes than a lorgnette."

The sense of humor she'd nurtured was quite adorable, and it was as powerful as a siren song. "Would you like tea? There's a small stove in the back, and I can unearth a kettle from one of the boxes."

"No need. There is something else I would rather indulge in, I think." With a tug on his cravat, Cora pulled him into the other room he planned to use for storage and a makeshift office. "At least here, we won't be spied upon or interrupted."

Bloody hell."That is only partially true, for there is a bookshop on one side. We shouldn't be too loud; I don't need the complaints as a new tenant." The woman was an enchantress; always had been where he was concerned, but now that she had experience behind her as well as confidence, she was even more so, and she was playing severe havoc with his peace of mind. "Before we go further, there should be no misapprehensions about what we both want from this moment."

"Agreed. Mrs. Bromington might cry foul, but I certainly will not." She swept her glance along the floor. "A rug would make this room quite tidy."

Perhaps he did need a woman's touch for the shop, but that would come with time… hopefully. That thought didn't quell the need mixed with anxiety in his gut. "Does that mean you trust me? Or are you merely desperate for release?" She wasn't the only one who indulged in plain speaking.

Cora blew out a breath as she drew her hands up and down her arms. "I do to a point." She pressed her lips together, which called his attention to her mouth. Longing stabbed through him to taste her. Those quick kisses from two days ago hadn't been enough to satisfy; they had merely teased. "But I also crave your embrace, and if that brands me as desperate, then so be it." When she met his gaze, there wasn't a trace of shame or embarrassment there.

And that confidence worked to further arouse him.

"At least you no longer hate me." Though intercourse fueled by such an emotion would be nothing short of spectacular.

"I don't." She clasped her hands in front of her, and the innocent gesture had desire shivering down his shaft. "My world fell apart when you left, and then it kept falling with life's disappointments, but sometimes, luck and fortune are absent for a time."

"That is true, for I've suffered disappointments as well where I never thought I would see a way out of them." A stab of guilt went through his chest. "While there is comfort in taking refuge in self-pity, it only lasts so long."

"Yes! I came to that conclusion as well, especially when Amelia discovered the unpaid taxes on the estate and Papa's declining mental health was brought to light." She came toward him a few steps. "At first I felt powerless, but above everything, I wanted to help if I could."

Well, damn. He'd not known about her father's decline. There would be no fixing his own mistakes, then. "I'm sorry to hear about your father's health."

"So am I. Quite terrified if I let myself think too deeply on it. At least toiling for Mrs. Bromington occupies my mind most times."

"Yet, because your soul is kind and there are responsibilities pressing in on you not of your own making, you have trapped yourself into prisons. If you leave one, you will merely fall into another." He frowned and crossed his arms at his chest. "When will you give yourself permission to live life on your own terms, for your own happiness?"

When would he?

"I…" Confusion shadowed her expression in the dim illumination. "I am doing my best."

"So am I." What happened when that wasn't good enough? A trace of annoyance went through his chest. They were forever circling back to the past. "Again, I ask, what do you want of me?"

Because there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, to make you happy. As I should have done years ago.

To his horror and surprise, tears welled in her eyes. "I don't know, because I am far too broken to go forward with any man, let alone you." She gestured helplessly around the room. "There is much potential in your future. When you left me standing on the steps of the church as if I didn't matter on what was supposed to be the most important day of my life, I wondered what was wrong with me." Her voice broke and the sound slammed into his person. "I was alone and frightened with my dreams crumbling about my feet." Abruptly, she cut off her words and rushed at him. Emotions danced over her expression, the same ones that battered his own bruised heart. "I was devastated that I wouldn't be able to grow old with the man I'd fallen in love with… because he didn't love me enough, and that haunted me."

"I told you why, and it had nothing to do with the level of love." Peregrine caught her in his arms, but confusion warred with need. "I wanted the chance to begin again, to court you, yet you haven't agreed to my suit. How do you think that makes me feel?" He hadn't meant to share on an emotional level with her, but here they were.

"My life changed years ago, and those changes haven't stopped. It's dizzying and sad, and quite frankly, I'm tired of it. Tired of the struggle through all of it." With a curled fist, she beat her hand on his chest. Perhaps she needed that outlet. "Mama and Papa don't deserve that struggle either, not after they raised all of us and took the two youngest girls in when their family perished in a fire. In fact, one of them has injuries much like you, and I never realized that before." A half-stifled sob escaped. "What will become of them once Papa passes and we lose the hall?"

That was an interesting tidbit. "Ah, sweeting, none of those concerns should ever rest on your shoulders."

"Yet I can't help but worry! Amelia certainly didn't marry a rich man. The viscount's pockets are near to let, and he has monetary troubles of his own." Tears fell to her cheeks, and he held her, let her vent her anger, disappointment, and grief. "She's the oldest! She should have at least tried to help."

"Did she not send coin home?" he whispered and brushed her forehead with his lips.

"Yes, some of what she'd gotten when she was let go from her position, yet there are expenses, bills, servants to pay, food to buy…" Her voice was barely audible. "I'm so tired, Perry."

"I'll wager you are. You've kept all this inside for far too long." He held her closer. "Lean on me for a bit. Borrow from my strength. I'll keep you safe as the storm rages." It was the least he could do.

Cora nodded. "Why is everything so dratted difficult and exasperating?" Her fist lightly thudded against his chest. "I just want something to look forward to, to not be afraid or angry, and I have no time to fall to pieces. I want to be happy again, for I haven't been that in far too long, but I must think about my sisters."

"Let them come up to the mark. They might surprise you."

"Or they might make it worse!" She shook her head as another sob escaped. "Gigi is going to drag the family name through the mud, I think, and dear Nora. What will become of her?"

"I don't know." Barely did he remember Nora's troubles, but he suspected they were more than not being able to hear.

Tear tracks showed on her cheeks. "The Hasting family needs a miracle."

"Don't we all?" He held her closer, and she rested both fists on his chest, the fight apparently drained from her. "But until the angels align, we must make do the best we can under our own power while hoping for the best." Could she feel how much her proximity affected him? Though he wouldn't force the issue, he certainly hoped she would let him kiss her, and if she wanted that embrace merely for comfort, that's where he would leave it.