Chapter Twenty
Thaddeus heard the rumors. He saw the furtive glances as he arrived late at a ball that Perdie no longer attended. He heard the whispers as he passed, the assessing and sometimes piteous glances. Trapped at the ball last night, he hadn’t been able to escape them.
This morning, he read the scandal rag and burned with icy rage. The words on the page, the words that had dripped into his ears last night, poisoned his mood. His aunt’s far-from-subtle hints that he should look for a different bride than the one he’d settled on hadn’t helped matters.
What would help his mood?
To hear the truth from her lips. It would not do for him to hunt down Lord Owen and gut him. Perhaps the man’s offense warranted only a fist to the face instead of death. Perdie would tell him. Thaddeus knew her character and that Perdie would not have gone willingly in a closed room with another man. He liked to think that her affections were reserved only for him. Nay, he knew it.
Thaddeus was surprised when the butler of the Duke of Hartford’s townhouse led him into the drawing room without a word, there to wait while he checked if the lady in question was at home. Thaddeus paced, seeing none of the finery around him, feeling no more docile for the tea service brought in by a young maid. He tried to stop her as she left.
“Do you know if Lady Perdie is at home or if she’s avoiding me?”
The maid tensed. Her eyes narrowed. After a swift calculation, she bent in a curtsy and muttered, “It’s not my place to comment on my betters, my lord.” When she left, she left the door ajar.
“Mama, please, I need to meet with him alone.”
When he caught a snatch of conversation, of that confident, feminine voice he knew so well, he paused in his pacing and stood vigil by the door. Perhaps it was wrong of him to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself.
“If you think I am going to let you entertain a man unchaperoned after what happened last night—”
He wasn’t familiar enough with her family to be able to place the voice immediately, but he was willing to bet that it belonged to her brother.
Perdie snapped, “I told you, what happened last night was a misunderstanding. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Word has it you were alone in a locked room with Lord Owen and that you appeared disheveled. This gossip is in every scandal rag and on the loose tongue of every gossiper.”
He forced himself to take a breath and let it out slowly, but he couldn’t unclench the hands at his sides. He couldn’t have pried himself from the door if it had been on fire.
“I planted him a facer. Surely that counts toward my innocence.”
“A likely tale. Only your family will believe it, and the perception of others matters very much. Only a marriage might render you respectable. You will have to marry, Perdie.”
“Lord Owen orchestrated that. He’s trying to trap me into marrying him, and you think that will make me have him?”
The voices were closer now. Thaddeus should step away from the door, pretend to give them privacy. He did neither of those things.
“You bloody will marry him now.”
“I will not!”
Perdie’s voice was charged with emotion. Thaddeus swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. He buried a sudden desire to pull her into his arms and shield her from her brother’s wrath and the rumors of the ton.
“Ladies of your stature don’t find themselves in compromising positions. You will marry. You must.”
“Seb, I can’t. Not Lord Owen, not when—”
She cut herself off. Thaddeus filled the gap left by her words. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but they had an undeniable connection. He opened the door and stepped into the corridor.
“I’ll marry her.”
Another less-than-romantic proposal, but the circumstances had changed. Perhaps she wouldn’t hate him for it this time.
Perdie’s back was to him. She wore a gown of delicate yellow muslin that pulled tight across her tense shoulders. Hand to her mouth, she turned to look at him, her grey-blue eyes wide.
The Duke of Hartford scowled at him.
“I’m afraid this is a family matter. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”