Chapter 7

“H e won’t kiss me. Clearly, I am doing something wrong,” Perdita explained, feeling quite out of sorts about the whole thing.

Her mother, the dowager duchess, tilted her head to the side. “Stubborn. He’s very stubborn, but I like him. I like him very well indeed. Your brother did a good job finding that one.”

Perdita rolled her eyes, stroking her crow’s breast as he sat upon her shoulder. “I’m surprised you did not find him, Mama. Leander will never let us hear the end of his triumph.”

“Oh my dear,” her mother pointed out, pouring herself a cup of tea and taking up a bit of beautifully decorated marzipan, “one cannot always be aware of every single member of the ton, and that one? Well, he’s got his head buried in bills, doesn’t he? And speeches. He hardly goes out and about. I don’t think he attends balls at all, which is really quite shocking and sad for the ladies.”

Her mother waggled her silvering eyebrows. “He’s a desperately handsome fellow, and I bet he moves quite well. That will be very good for you. Yes, when—”

“Mama,” Perdita cut in swiftly, swiping a spearmint-flavored marzipan in the shape of a holly leaf.

Her mother was quite a woman and was very open about all things sensual. Still, she wasn’t entirely certain that’s what she wished to hear from her mama at present.

“Well?” her mother asked kindly. “Do you wish to get him to kiss you?”

Perdita popped the last of the marzipan into her mouth and savored the flavors bursting on her tongue. When the world was going in the opposite direction of one’s hopes, sometimes a sweet could do wonders.

Then she blew out a long sigh. Her cat, appearing as he always did when she needed him, jumped onto her lap, sensing her distress.

The crow shuffled his feet, causing his talons to dip into her gown, but not sharply.

Perdita gave the crow a smile, assuring him of her affection, and then she stroked her cat’s back and scratched him under the chin.

Her animals really were a bit of a morale boost.

The truth was she had not expected this to be so hard or that it would go so ill when she found the fellow she wanted. He seemed to like her. There was no question. He was a passionate, sensual person, and yet he was denying them both.

It made no sense.

“Mama,” she began, trying to make sense of the muddle, “I have literally had to fight gentlemen off with a fan. I have had to stomp on booted feet, and I have had to give not so thinly veiled insults to persuade men to hie off. My God. I have had to do a great deal to ensure that I was not ruined in a hallway.”

Her mother scowled and took up another marzipan, this one shaped like a rosebud. “Gentlemen are such silly, determined creatures. Most of them are well-meaning fools. But a few of them are really quite odious.”

“I have to thank you for arming me so well.”

“Of course, my dear. Of course, one knows that a heavy lead ball in one’s reticule is really the best answer for a saucy gentleman. That failing, a well-placed fan jabbed right in the throat is an excellent line of defense.”

Perdita smiled. Her mama was quite right. The dowager duchess had taught her those tricks years ago so that she would never feel in danger or pressed into something that she had no wish to commit to.

The dowager had grown up in the East End and had spent her youth on the London stage with many admirers. Not all of them had acted the gentleman, and she had wanted all of her daughters to know how to take care of themselves when men acted as if they could take whatever they wanted without the yay or nay of the lady.

Now, when it came to a cuddle in the corner, her mother was no Puritan. As long as both parties were willing.

Her mother had no problem with kissing. As a matter of fact, her mother had rather encouraged it. It had been Perdita who had been reticent over the years, but now the gentleman that she wanted to kiss? Well, he was malingering, and she didn’t like it.

“What do you think it is?” Perdita blurted.

Her mother gave a rueful smile. “Honor. He’s a good one, and he’s not quite like us. He has a very open mind and he thinks quite differently about how the world should be run, which is, of course, why your brother likes him. But it seems to me he’s a bit, shall we say, straightlaced. He does things as they’re supposed to be done, in the sense that he doesn’t depart from chivalry. I have a strong feeling that your earl would’ve been very happy with the fictional role of a medieval poet singing for his lady fair.”

Her mother paused and a pleased look brightened her features. “So, perhaps that’s what we need to do. We need to get him to romance you.”

“Romance me?” she echoed. “Won’t that take forever? Can’t I simply go into his rooms?”

Her mother tsked. She took up a saucer and poured cream into it before she placed it on the floor for Perdita’s cat. “Perdita. Would you want a gentleman just slipping into your rooms? You can’t do that to him.”

The cat jumped downed and began to lap happily at the cream.

Perdita let out a long sigh, took up one of the biscuits, and began feeding it to her crow, who cawed with delight. “How very frustrating. He clearly wishes to kiss me. He said as much, and I wish to kiss him. He’s letting a list of silly rules get in the way.”

“I couldn’t agree more, my dear. But isn’t it good that he’d rather obey those rules than violate them terribly?”

“Of course,” she agreed. “But it’s going to waste so much time.”

When the cat had licked up the last of the cream and cleaned his face with his paw, he headed off into the hall. No doubt to find mice and keep the castle quite pristine, but not her mice. She didn’t know how it was possible, but the cat knew not to hunt her mice. Her animals were all friends, and she was deeply grateful for it, but it did make things quite interesting with animals that she had not taken in.

She was forever having to watch her crow and her cat to make certain that they didn’t ravage the birds and small animal population. They were predators though, and so she couldn’t stop the cycle of life. She just did the best she could to make as many of the animals comfortable and happy as they could be.

It was life itself.

All longed to be comfortable and happy. It was the great goal of most, and yet there were so many things that could get in the way of those goals.

Generally speaking, life was like a crow who was clever and could bring you shiny things one moment but also attack in the next.

It was difficult. She hated the idea that one of her animals could be hurt, but she couldn’t keep them in cages in the house. She knew some people might do such a thing. She’d seen terrible, cruel menageries, where people kept animals in small cages for their own amusement. And they thought they were doing a good job of taking care of them.

But when Perdita saw those animals and looked in their eyes, dear God in heaven, she could see their spirits had broken. And she’d known she never wanted such a thing for herself as a human or for her animals either.

And so she let her creatures roam, and she did the best she could to be happy too.

She supposed she had to do the same thing with her dratted earl. Let him roam and see what would happen.

He was in a cage too.

The snow had made it so that he couldn’t leave; he was essentially trapped. It was good, in a way, because he was forced to be with her. He couldn’t run away just because he was frightened of what might happen between them, and he did seem to be oddly frightened.

She’d seen it in wounded animals, when they no longer knew who they could trust.

She hesitated, a terrible thought sliding through her. “Mama, is it possible that the deaths of his parents early on made it so that he cannot fall in love?”

Her mother gave a quick shake of her head. “Of course he can fall in love, but he’s very guarded and reticent to let his heart be free. It’s quite a difficult thing when one is abandoned.”

“But they didn’t abandon him,” Perdita protested.

Her mother’s face softened, for she knew pain and suffering that most did not. “To a young person, it doesn’t really matter if one’s parents died of a disease or if they were murdered in an alley. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true.”

Her mama put her tea down and turned to the fire, where a pot of mulled wine was steaming. She stood, crossed to it, and poured herself a cup in one of the punch glasses that awaited on the table near the fire.

“It is time to let go of the past, my dear, and choose to be merry. It might be a tad early, but I say we seize the season.”

Her mama lifted the mulled wine in salute and took a sip.

The scent of cinnamon, cloves, and oranges wafted through the air. It was a deeply calming thing, and Perdita was tempted to have a glass of wine too. But she needed her wits about her, and she didn’t want to think that she had said something or done something because she’d been loosened by the seasonal drink.

It would’ve been very convenient to ply the earl with wine and see if he softened too. Perhaps a few glasses or more of wine would change his opinion on things, but she didn’t want such a yes. She wanted him to say yes with all of his logical being and heart and soul. So, she needed to find a way to awaken the romantic part of him.

It was very, very annoying. She didn’t understand all this hemming and hawing. When one knew what they wanted, surely they should just go after it, fight for it, earn it. That’s what Briarwoods did, and she felt that if more people were like Briarwoods, the world would be a much happier and better place.

“What are you going to do now?” her mother asked.

Perdita shrugged, which caused her crow to dance a bit and flap his wings. “I suppose I’m going to have to find a way to get him to see I’m perfect for him, but I don’t know if he will.”

“Oh, your brothers might be doing it,” her mother replied with a twinkle in her eye.

“I beg your pardon?” gasped Perdita.

Her mother took another sip and did a few steps as if to a dance, such was her enjoyment at the turn of events. “Your brothers took him out this morning for an adventure in the woods.”

“Oh, dear God,” Perdita groaned. “Do you think he survived?”

Her mother cocked her head to the side, her earrings, a rich set of emeralds, shimmering. “I don’t think they’ll bury him, if that’s what you’re asking. Besides, the ground is too cold. They’d never try to dig at this time of year.”

“I don’t know,” Perdita said, skeptical.

“Oh, they’re not actually murderers,” her mother said, laughing.

“Not yet,” Perdita agreed, “but things can change.”

Her mother grinned. “Isn’t it wonderful? That things can still change.”

“Yes,” Perdita allowed.

And it was true. Some said that people couldn’t change, that things would never change, but she refused to believe that. Anybody could change whenever they wanted, however they wanted, if they could change their thoughts and change their hearts.

It was not easy. It was dearly difficult. It took more than just a small desire. One had to want it with every bit of their heart, their soul, their mind, their being, and then they had to have an awakening. The tragedy seemed to be that so many people only truly changed when something awful happened—an illness or an accident. But she hoped that for herself and her earl that he could wake up without any of those things happening.

It was Christmas, after all. Miracles were a possibility, and she wanted one more than she could possibly say because she was ready for love.

She was ready to have someone. She was ready to throw herself into the richness of life, and she realized she wanted it for him too.

He was alone. Nothing terrible had happened to him, nothing cruel, not really. Death was a normal part of life, but he was indeed alone in this world with no brothers or sisters, no parents. And that was a terribly sad thing.

Indeed, she didn’t know what she would’ve done without her brothers and her sisters, and her mother, and her grandmother, and her aunt. They were all such a merry crew, and they all looked out for each other. They all made life better. They all knew that when something awful happened to one, the rest would come in and be of assistance.

She wanted that for him too. He was a soul that needed it. He had given so much of himself. He had fought so hard. He had tried to improve the lives of others so much, without help and without anything in turn. No doubt, he was simply accustomed to going it alone.

If she had anything to do with it, that was done. He was going to become accustomed to a very different life indeed.