Chapter Two
Percival lowered himself into a large wingback chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest. He stared at Freddie, wondering how best to deal with the stubborn chit. Freddie had been a right baggage since he told her it was time to get married. It was what ladies do, for God's sakes, and it had been her brother’s dearest wish for him to see her settled happily. Percy was honor and duty-bound to see that promise fulfilled. Even his Aunt Cecily had told him Freddie could not keep living under his roof with his supposedly dastardly reputation. She was no longer a fresh-faced seventeen-year-old girl but was becoming a woman. Freddie remaining for much longer under his roof at twenty years of age with his notoriety would eventually come back and damage her. That would not do. He wanted the world for her. She deserved nothing less. “Do you not want children one day, Freddie?” he asked mildly.
Her pretty face softened in a smile. “ Surely I would.”
“Then tell me the truth; why are you so against marrying? We have been at odds about the matter for the last few weeks. We cannot continue this way.”
“I agree. Tyranny can become exhausting.”
Percy chuckled. “If I must be a tyrant to ensure your happiness, then so be it.”
“It is fascinating that you believe I should not be a part of securing my own contentment.”
That gave him pause. “Are you even making an attempt to think about your future?”
She smiled sweetly. “Has it truly escaped your notice that I have been out in society, and no one has offered?”
Before he could speak, she said, “Do not mention Lord Crawford again. He was not a serious suitor.”
“He is a viscount who is reputed to be charming.”
Large, beautiful blue eyes landed on his face, and a frown marred her features. “There are times I wonder if your ardent belief that I might find an eligible marriage is a mockery or overstated confidence in my abilities. Firstly, I am inarguably very plain. I have been referred to by many darlings of the ton as a wallflower. I am sure the whispers have reached even your vaunted ears. I was shocked when you told me you received an offer for my hand. However, when you revealed the offer came from Lord Crawford, I understood. He is looking for a caretaker…for his children. My lack of beauty and the dowry you so generously provided seemed to be the only attributes Lord Crawford seemed to consider when he offered for me. And I supposed he believes I am desperate; hence we are a suitable match. That alliance would have only been beneficial to the viscount, not me.”
She said it pragmatically, with little pity for herself, yet Percy wanted to find those callous blackguards and gut them. Himself included for welcoming a marriage offer without taking her feelings into consideration.
“While Lord Crawford finds your dowry appealing, he is not a fortune hunter. There are other qualities he admired in you, Freddie.”
Percy vaguely recalled the man rattling off a list of all the reasons he and Miss Frederica were suited to be man and wife. He had been too busy dismantling the cold fire of denial that had roiled through him, trying to understand its purpose to have paid keen attention to the viscount’s words.
“Oh, was he captivated by my charm?” she asked with a bite. “The man has no gallantry and did not even ask me to dance at the last ball we encountered each other but has the effrontery to suppose I would be thrilled to become his wife. Clearly, he believes a woman who lacks great beauty and connections would be eager with his mediocre attempts.”
Her tone and expression said that she had been violently unimpressed. With some amusement, Percy recalled the evening he had presented the offer to her in the form of a command. His ward had unsheathed her claws—which kept growing longer and sharper of late—and they had argued. That had been the first time she swore if he wanted to marry her off so badly, he should do the deed himself. The next morning a little bit more of her hair had been cut away. Her way to protest or rebel against one of his dictates.
We must do what we must to withstand tyranny, she had said airily.
Percy feared the damn chit would soon go bald, and then he would have another crisis on his hands.
“Perhaps he was not gallant, but he is a good man. You are also not plain, Freddie.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It is neither here nor there. I’ve decided on a path forward.”
Bloody hell, he silently swore, bracing his nerves at the very decided sparkle in her eyes. When needed, Freddie could be a menace, and worse, she did it so sweetly and with that disarming smile. She owned a dry wit that could pierce a man clean through if he was not careful. He had been on the end of it more than once. “Will this path inspire another strand of my hair to go gray?”
She chuckled lightly. “I recall it being three strands of gray. And they do not diminish your handsomeness. It had hardly called for the way you hollered at your valet to pluck them. You are an outrageously vain man, my lord; after all, gray hairs are expected in a man of your advanced age.”
“I am two and thirty,” he muttered darkly.
“You are very well-preserved, my lord,” she said, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Percy took a lazy sip of his brandy. “I merely want you to recall it was your antics which possessed them to appear in my glorious mane of hair.”
Percy had caught her climbing out of her bedroom window to rescue a damn cat. At first, he had thought her letting in a libertine. Percy himself had climbed through many windows after a dalliance in his younger days. Determined to kill the bounder who dared, he had only been mildly consoled by the tale of the cat in distress. “Tell me what is your path forward,” he invited.
Teeth sank into a plump bottom lip, and for a moment, she seemed uncertain. “I have a passionate tendre for someone who does not regard me at all.”
Why did that fervent confession rake at his heart? “Sounds like a fool.”
Her eyes glinted. “I’ve had the thought a few times myself.”