Page 17 of Miss Davis and the Spare (Dazzling Debutantes #3)

Chapter Sixteen

“Are you reading a book on mathematics, Balfour? Never say you are attempting to do something useful with your brain?”

July 1816, Lord Julius Trafford to Peregrine, on his twenty-first birthday.

* * *

P erry had eaten as much as he could to prolong the time until their next conversation. He hoped his brother might grow tired and retire to bed. After all, Richard had likely not slept much, what with the ball ending in the early hours and then facilitating Emma’s departure that morning. However, the earl showed no sign of tiring as he waited patiently while Perry lingered over his meal.

“Halmesbury advised me it is better to have difficult discussions on a full stomach and after a good night’s sleep,” Richard finally remarked, breaking the quiet. “But with your recent evasions, I can only ensure the food.”

“Why must we talk about this?” Perry asked quietly.

“Because I care about you,” Richard said, without hesitation. “I cannot let this continue, not when I see it is hurting you. We settle it tonight, little brother. I may have waited too long to offer my ear, but you shall have it now.”

“I did not ask for it,” Perry muttered.

Richard gave a lopsided shrug. “You asked for it the moment you made a public mess of things with a young woman we both care for deeply. Tonight, you will tell me what troubles you.”

“And if I do not?” Perry asked, more weary than defiant.

“Then I shall ask again tomorrow. And every hour I am not otherwise occupied, until you relent.”

Perry’s chest loosened at the words. He would never say it aloud, but his brother’s insistence—his determination to listen—felt like affection. True, familial affection. Richard had always been his one constant since their father’s death, but this level of attention … it was new. And it was comforting.

It was the kind of care Richard gave to Sophia and to Ethan. Perry had never been the recipient of that kind of patient concern.

Except, perhaps, from Emma.

He sighed heavily, the sound catching in his throat. Emma had waited for him in his room that night, offered him her strength, her comfort. And he had known, even then, that he would betray her with cruelty. At the ball she had worked so hard to prepare for.

I truly am despicable.

Now Richard would make him confess—and then he, too, would see how unworthy Perry truly was.

Would I rather it be Halmesbury? No. It had to be Richard. It had always been Richard.

“What should be Richard?” the earl asked, frowning in confusion.

Perry winced. “Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”

“I was thinking I would rather talk to you than Halmesbury.”

“Halmesbury already told me it must come from me,” Richard replied. “He said it is not his place. That I am perfectly capable.”

“He is right.”

Richard stopped walking and turned to look at him, a hint of surprise in his expression. “Truly?”

Perry nodded, managing the ghost of a smile. “I imagine he gave you instructions on how to go about this, but you are doing an excellent job of taking me in hand.”

“Huh.” Richard looked amused. “Well, that is good to hear. I shall remind you of that if you try to squirm away later.”

“I think I am ready,” Perry said, more quietly this time. “I need help, Richard. I want to make it right, but I do not know how.”

Richard tilted his head, watching him closely. “There is something specific troubling you, then? Not simply the memories of our father?”

“There is enough there to haunt a lifetime,” Perry admitted. “But no. What burdens me is something I did. Not something he did.”

Frowning, Richard resumed walking down the hall. They entered the study together and each took their usual seat, Perry’s gaze settling on the deep green wallpaper that transformed the room to a sanctuary instead of a tomb.

He took a deep breath. “Will you forgive me what I am about to tell you?”

Richard gave a soft chuckle. “No matter what it is, Perry, I can almost guarantee I have done worse. You are in no danger of being judged tonight.”

Perry cleared his throat. “When I was fourteen, I met a young woman in the village near Saunton Park. She was blonde, delicate, and she smelled of gardenias.”

Richard’s brow furrowed. “She reminded you of our mother.”

“She did. Her name was Laura. She was kind. She listened to me. I thought Grandfather had abandoned me. Father was…” He paused, steadying himself. “He had taken a disturbing interest in shaping me into a man, and I was miserable. Laura worked in the shop, and I began slipping away from the manor to see her. She never treated me like I was strange. I would scrounge for coins, just to buy some trifle so I had an excuse to visit and talk with her.”

“She helped you feel human again.”

Perry nodded once. “One day, Father came looking for me. I did not hear him come in. He found me at the counter, speaking with her. And the look in his eyes … I knew he had taken notice. So I stopped going. I thought I had drawn his attention away. After a few weeks, I believed I had succeeded.”

He looked down into his lap. “But I had not accounted for my fifteenth birthday.”

Richard groaned softly and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “He had some twisted notion of what manhood should look like. Forgive me, I think I shall pour us a drink.”

“You no longer drink.”

“I can make an exception. And Sophia will agree that some memories deserve it.”

He walked to the sideboard, poured a single measure of brandy into two glasses, and returned, handing one to Perry before reclaiming his seat.

“I apologize for interrupting. The horror of my twelfth birthday was revived quite thoroughly when those bawds were planted in my bed.”

Perry winced at the memory. He was glad he had not been present that day.

“So, what did the Earl … of Satan … do?”

Perry smiled faintly at his brother’s quiet encouragement. Richard had never adopted the moniker that Perry used for their father, but he allowed it tonight—and that small concession meant more than Perry could say. His chest ached, a deep, physical pain from the strain of recalling a night he would give anything to undo. He lifted a hand to rub the tension away.

“He arranged for Laura to be in my room that night. As a … gift.”

Richard frowned. “Arranged? You mean—she was willing?”

“She was not. She was a maiden. But when I walked into my bedroom on the night of my birthday, there she sat, trembling and weeping … and our father was lounging across the room in my armchair.”

Richard downed the rest of his drink in a single swallow and shot to his feet, pacing like a storm rolling in. “He did not. Tell me he did not.”

“He did,” Perry said quietly. “He threatened to ruin her—have her dismissed, cast out of the village, even arrested. Then he offered her coin to stay and … comply. From the way he told it, she stood no chance of refusal.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him I did not want any such gift. That I would see her safely home. He said I had no choice.”

Richard made a harsh sound, turned, and hurled his glass into the fireplace. It shattered in a brilliant cascade of sparks and glass.

“You have been doing that quite often lately,” Perry remarked, his tone dry.

“It is only the third time,” Richard retorted, exasperated, “and this has been a rather dramatic year!”

“May I?”

Richard gestured grandly with a wave of his hand. Perry stood, tossed back the brandy, and then flung his glass in a powerful arc toward the hearth. It shattered with a clean, satisfying sound. “Huh. That does feel rather good.”

“There is a time and place for such things,” Richard agreed with a faint smile.

Perry’s smile faded. “Richard … if I tell you the rest … will it help? Will I feel lighter for it?”

“My experience this year tells me yes. Telling someone helps. But we shall not know what more is needed until you finish.”

Perry sat again and stretched his neck side to side. Then, with a breath, he continued. “I tried to think clearly. I thought—I still might get her out. So I agreed to give us time. But he refused to leave the room. He stayed, seated like a judge, saying he would oversee my education as a man. That he had failed with you, and would not fail with me.”

Richard’s expression twisted in grief. “He became that far gone?”

“He had been unwell for years, but near the end, he was entirely changed. But his nature had always been … distorted. This only made him more volatile.”

“What did you do?”

“I pretended to go along. Told him if I was to do this properly, it must be with brandy, much to his approval. I fetched his bottle, brought it to him and encouraged him to drink up while pretending to drink with him until he passed out.”

“Oh, Perry …”

When Perry looked up, there was a sheen in his brother’s emerald eyes.

“I am so sorry,” Richard whispered. “I did not know. I never imagined he would … I would have come home, I would have?—”

“You would have come home and been forced to do the same to someone else. A housemaid, a tenant’s daughter … even someone’s wife. He would have found someone to hurt. It was better that you were not there.”

“Did you …” Richard could not finish the question.

“No. But she was frightened. I calmed her, hid her in the attics, and then gathered everything I could—coin, trinkets, even items from your rooms I could sell without drawing suspicion.”

Realization dawned in Richard’s eyes. “You were careful not to take anything a servant might be blamed for.”

Perry nodded. “I had planned to run away myself more than once. I already had the bones of a plan. I rode into Saunton, sold everything I could, and collected enough to pay for her escape. I got her back to her home to pack her belongings, then put her in a post-chaise bound for Cornwall, where she had a cousin. I begged her to disappear. To forget the village. To start anew.”

“And you?”

“I faced Father’s fury. But whatever I endured, it was not what she would have faced had I failed.”

They sat in silence. Perry waited, watching his brother, unsure what he would say next. Despite Richard’s earlier assurances, surely this revelation crossed some line …

But after a long while, Richard exhaled and raked a hand through his hair, leaving it wildly tousled. “I do not see shame in that. I see bravery. I see a young man saving a young woman in the only way he could.”

Perry blinked, unsure he had heard correctly.

“If you had not stepped in, she would have been ruined. You did everything in your power to stop it.”

“He would not have noticed her if not for me.”

“He would have chosen someone, Perry. He had the night in his head—he only used her because it amused him to drive the blade in. But the plan, the depravity—that was his alone. And you did not allow it to play out.”

Perry rubbed his hands over his face. “Truly?”

Richard leaned forward, firm and kind. “Yes. I shall have my man of business seek word of her. But no matter what you learn—remember this. You were a boy with no power who stood between a monster and a girl, and you stopped him. You should not carry guilt. I am proud of you.”

Perry’s throat tightened, and he nodded once, afraid to speak. For the first time in years, something in his chest eased.

He was not alone.

He never had been.

Perry nearly wept in relief. “Truly?”

“Brother, you acted with honor. I am certain if we were to find this Laura, she would say a young lad of fifteen rescued her from a terrible fate.”

Overcome, Perry nodded, blinking rapidly to keep his composure. Richard was right—just speaking the truth aloud had brought unexpected lightness to his chest. “Thank you, Richard … for listening.”

Richard’s smile was gentle. “Of course. Now, what do you intend to do about Emma?”

Perry dropped his gaze, studying the shine of his Hessians. “I love her, you know?”

“I do. She is a rare and wonderful young woman.”

“I am not worthy of her.”

“You are far better than you believe yourself to be. And let us not forget, Sophia married me when she ought to have run the other way. Yet somehow, love prevailed. Women—remarkable women like Sophia and Emma—have the gift of seeing not just who we are, but who we might become. They teach us to be better men, kinder men. They teach us to love. And as far as this family is concerned, Emma is a saint. So I am quite confident you can win her back … provided you have not done the unforgivable.”

Perry hesitated, then remembered the very thing that had consumed his thoughts—until tonight.

“The unforgivable?” he asked.

Richard winced. “You did not join the widow in her bed, did you?”

Perry blinked. In truth, he had nearly forgotten Lady Slight entirely. “I was in her bed only because I passed out. When I awoke, I still had my trousers on.”

Richard gave a glance at said trousers and raised a brow. “Given the condition of those trousers, I believe you.”

Perry glanced down and grimaced. “Yes, well. Thank you, I suppose.”

“There is something else I have been meaning to tell you for some time,” Richard said, his tone shifting. “When Grandfather visited me at Oxford, he informed me that he had created a trust for Shepton Abbey.”

“His home? What of it?”

“I inherited a half-interest when I turned five and twenty. And as of your birthday the other morning, you now own the other half.”

Perry blinked. “I … I do?”

“I attempted to tell you many times,” Richard said with a slight smile. “But every time I mentioned Grandfather, you would claim a pressing appointment and vanish like smoke. Eventually, I decided to wait until the papers were signed and the thing was done.”

“Oh. That is … good news, I suppose?”

“You misunderstand. I want you to manage it. It lies near Rose Ash and needs thoughtful stewardship.”

“I have no notion of how to manage a property.”

Richard sighed in mock despair. “You have charm, wit, and more intelligence than you claim. The estate earns income, but Johnson, my man of business, says it could thrive with the right improvements. The region is primed for wool production, and mechanization would benefit both tenants and owners—but the locals are wary. It will require someone with a persuasive nature and a little fire.”

Perry gave him a flat look. “You mean someone like Emma.”

“Exactly,” Richard said with infuriating cheer. “She has a gift for land management. You have a talent for persuasion—if not always used wisely. Between you, the estate would flourish.”

Perry groaned. “This is Sophia’s idea, is it not?”

“She may have hinted. I may have listened. And now that I have had the idea myself, I claim full credit. Sophia will be delighted, and as you know, when Sophia is happy, the entire household benefits.”

“I have not even convinced Emma to speak to me again, and you are plotting our future?”

“I am an optimist.” Richard grinned. “Consider it. And do not scowl. You always scowl when someone suggests you might do something worthwhile.”

Perry huffed. “You might have mentioned this earlier.”

“I had the documents ready on the morning of your birthday. But someone was too busy stomping about and refusing presents to hear me out.”

“I was not stomping.”

“You were rather dramatic.”

Perry crossed his arms, but a smile played about his lips. “Is there more?”

“There is capital waiting to be used and a steward in place—he is capable, if somewhat lacking in imagination. It could be your project. Yours alone.”

Perry tried to remain unaffected, but the idea burrowed deep. A place of his own? Work to occupy his days? A legacy that might—just might—appeal to a certain young lady with wild curls and a keen mind?

Before he could speak, Richard added, “If you mean to make amends, you must begin with a grand gesture. Something that shows her you are sincere. Something that proves you are worthy—even in your unworthiness.”

Perry sighed. “Must you enjoy this so much?”

Richard’s smile was downright gleeful. “It is not every day that my wayward little brother is bested by a clever country miss. How could I not enjoy it?”

Perry muttered something beneath his breath.

“Now, now, Perry,” Richard said in a mild tone. “Do not let your lady love hear you curse. You are meant to be reformed, remember?”

Perry shook his head, but inside, something quiet and warm had begun to grow.

Hope.