Page 24 of The Captain’s Valentine (The “Other” Trents #3)

He could have seduced Perdita in the back of his brother’s carriage and she would have likely allowed him. It would have guaranteed that he would gain her as a wife, but how much would she have resented him for doing so tomorrow.

It had not been right to take advantage. It had been a difficult day. Perdita was vulnerable and claimed that he was the only one who she trusted and he nearly betrayed that with seduction. He should have not even caressed her perfect breast and the nipple tightening beneath his thumb nearly had him pulling the dress down so that he could take it in his mouth but thankfully he restrained himself.

He needed to remain honorable, supportive and loving until she was ready to hear his confession.

Perhaps tomorrow or soon, once she had come to accept the truth of her past. He just hoped that it was before he was forced to leave port.

By the time the driver stopped outside of The Albany to drop Harrison off before returning to Tristan’s home, he was exhausted. If this was his state after everything that had occurred this day and night, no doubt Perdita was already deep in sleep. Though, because of what had occurred, she may be lying awake, staring at the ceiling while she tried to make sense of it all.

However, when someone shifted in the shadows, he became alert and started to reach for his knife until he saw that it was Demetrius Valentine.

“What do you need?”

“Where is my sister?”

“When she wants you to know, she will send word.”

Harrison strode past her oldest brother. Except, apparently that brother was really the Duke of Clare.

“Is she well?”

Demetrius asked as he followed Harrison.

“As well as can be expected for having been attacked, suffering an injury to her arm that had to be stitched and learning that three of her brothers and an uncle had lied to her all her life, and that she has a family that she had never known about.”

Demetrius knew the facts as well as anyone else, but Harrison felt it important to remind the man that it wasn’t just his lie that he need to be concerned with.

Harrison paused at the entry of The Albany and unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Of course, Demetrius followed him in and up the stairs to Harrison’s set of rooms. Demetrius may try to get the answers from him, but he would not betray her trust.

“Is she with them?”

“Who?”

Harrison asked as he crossed to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. He did not offer one to Demetrius.

“The Duke of Clare and his family.”

“She does not even know them. Why would she go there?”

“That means she is with someone or someplace where she is more comfortable.”

Harrison said nothing but sipped and stared at Demetrius.

“Is she at least safe?”

This earned Demetrius a glare from the insult. “No. I was tired and wanted to return home so I left her to wander the docks so that she could think longer on all that has recently happened to her.”

Without the offer, or asking, Demetrius strode forward and splashed brandy into a glass. “Of course you would not leave her in a dangerous situation.”

Demetrius turned and pushed his fingers through her hair. “She was correct. We should have told her. It’s just…the longer we waited…When she was an infant she would not have understood. Then, when she was old enough to do so, it well…”

Harrison did understand. He may have made the same decisions, but that did not make it right, and he was fairly certain that Perdita had not yet experienced all the emotions likely associated with such duplicity. Shock and anger had been apparent when she learned the news, but she had almost returned to herself while they dined. But now, she was alone, and likely remembering everything that had happened since that woman came at her with a knife. She was alone!

He should have stayed with her. He should have insisted on it.

“It never mattered to us that Perdita had not been born from our mother. Not even when we thought the younger ones had different and unknown fathers. She was an infant that we found, which made her one of us—ten of us alone in the world and eventually with Vicar Grant and his wife. When were we supposed to take her aside and tell her how she came to us?”

Harrison had no idea.

“Whenever it occurred, it would be devastating, and it was simply…”

“Easier,”

Harrison answered.

“Yes.”

“We never meant to hurt her. She is our sister.”

Demetrius sank down into a chair and Harrison’s anger that he may have been harboring slipped away.

Who was he to judge the decisions of Demetrius and his brothers and uncle.

“I am certain she will understand and forgive you when you ask. Perdita needs time to puzzle it out. You should give her that.”

“Patience is not easy in situations such as this.”

Demetrius tipped the glass and took a sip. “I am the one who is supposed to protect her. I have carried that duty ever since we found her. And I ended up being the one who hurt her the most.”

“There were four of you involved in the deception,”

Harrison reminded him.

“Yes, but you did not know her when she was a child. She was a tiny thing and a strong wind could have blown her away. When she suffered an illness, I always feared the worst.”

He shook his head and sipped again. “She was always the happiest. Found joy in the slightest occurrence. Rarely was she without a smile. Maybe that is why I wanted to protect her. She had no memory of where she was found and no idea what those years were like for the rest of us before Vicar Grant rescued us.”

He shook his head and sipped. “I am the one who found her. I am the one who made the decision to keep her, with the others, so I have always felt more responsibility for her.

“One deception does not change a person from who they truly are,”

Harrison assured him, even though he wasn’t so certain when that betrayal cut as deep as the one Perdita had experienced.”

“You are certain she is well?”

Demetrius asked again.

“She is.”

“She trusts you.”

“I trust her.”

“Why haven’t you asked to court her?”

This was not a turn Harrison was expecting. “We are friends.”

“Men and women, especially when they are the ages of you and Perdita, cannot be simply friends.”

He was correct, but Harrison was not going to tell him any differently. “We can be when…”

“When what?”

Demetrius demanded when Harrison didn’t finish. “When you are the son of a marquess and she is only the daughter of a missionary.”

Harrison set his glass aside with so much force it should have shattered. “Take your leave.”

Demetrius came to his feet. “Then why else have you not courted her?”

“I do not owe you an explanation.”

Except, if he were Demetrius and having this conversation with a man who had been in the company of Olivia too often, he’d be making the same demands.

“I believe you do.”

As Harrison glared at him, Demetrius drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. Harrison had no doubt that those hands could quickly turn into fists if he did not respond.

“I vowed to remain a bachelor so long as I captain a ship. It is unfair to wed then leave a wife behind for weeks or months at a time.”

“Does Perdita know this?”

“It is a discussion that we have had. She also has no desire to wed because she believes her purpose is Westbrook House so that those children are allowed the same opportunities she was given—for a better life.”

“Does she love you?”

“I am her friend.”

He knew that she was beginning to care for him deeply, but it was not love. Or not the kind of love that led to courtship and marriage. He had offered to take her to Gretna Green but she had rejected him.

Demetrius simply nodded and crossed the room, pausing only when he reached the door. “Watch over her and take care of her until she has been returned to her family.”

“Which family?”

“Whichever one she chooses.”

Then he was gone.

Harrison wanted to be angry with Demetrius but also understood the man’s turmoil, guilt and need to protect, which was why he forgave any insult that had been delivered tonight.

Did Demetrius truly fear that Perdita would chose the family of His Grace over the Valentines?

Impossible!

Perdita spent most of the night awake, tossing and turning on the narrow cot trying to get comfortable, but her mind would not quiet.

She had always been certain who she was and what she wanted. She trusted that her family was hers and who her mother was and later who their father was. Except, none of that was true.

Oh, she was angry with Demetrius, Orlando and Benedick, as well as Uncle Osborn for lying to her all these years. But had she known the truth, would it have made a difference? It is not like they could have given her the names of her parents or siblings because they had not known. She would have still become a Valentine and been raised in a simple home in Hampshire but may not have felt like she truly belonged.

They had shielded her from that. Had she known when she was younger, would she have been as close, believing that she was part of them? Would she have always wondered who her parents had been and what had happened to them?

She would have assumed the woman who had died in the alley was her mother, and that she’d likely been a prostitute and her father could be any man in London.

Yes, she forgave them for their duplicity now that she had recovered from the shock of yesterday.

More perplexing, if her father had been a duke, why hadn’t he searched harder? Then again, had she been a son, perhaps they would have since heirs and spares were needed. A daughter was someone to marry off.

Of course, these were all assumptions. Maybe they did search London high and low and when Uncle Osborn inquired at their home, he may have been turned away by the very servant who had tried to get rid of her in the first place. It was possible that her parents had not even known an infant had been found in Seven Dials and even if they had, why would they assume it was their daughter?

Perdita closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep but knew that all too well the women would be up and moving around in the kitchen and she did not want them to find her here and ask questions. Except, she was so tired.

It was still dark outside and if her next sleep was as fitful as what she’d already experienced, she would not rest long and with those thoughts, turned on her side again, closed her eyes and tried to think of pleasant thoughts, like the dinner she had shared with Harrison and the stories he had told her of his ship.

“Shh. Do not wake her.”

Perdita opened her eyes. She faced the wall so did not know who spoke. It was also light in the room. Had she finally slept?

Whispers continued in the kitchen behind her and she identified the quiet voices of Edith, Corliss and Mrs. Shaw.

“Why do you think she is here?”

Edith asked.

“It is none of our concern,”

Mrs. Shaw insisted.

Blast! She really had wanted to be awake and prepared to begin her day before anyone else rose. Now she’d have to face the three women who would no doubt tell her employers that she had spent the night in the kitchen.

“You do not need to whisper,”

Perdita finally said as she sat up and pushed the blanket away. “I am awake and if there is any hot water, I am in need of a cup of tea.”

“Is there anything else that you would like?”

Corliss asked with concern.

“Only tea and then I will brush my hair and change my dress.”

As she made her way to the large, scarred wooden table, Corliss set a cup in the place she usually occupied, along with a teapot. When Perdita reached forward and grasped the handle, the skin pulled around her stitches and she let her hand drop. She was not supposed to lift anything with that arm, according to Orlando, until her wound had healed. She had forgotten.

“Here, let me,”

Corliss insisted.

Perdita could have used her other arm, but did not argue. She simply wanted a cup of tea and for the cobwebs to be cleared from her brain and not to have to answer any questions.

“Is all well with you, Miss Perdita?”

Edith asked after she had taken her first sip only to receive a disapproving glare from Mrs. Shaw.

“Well enough.”

It was an answer that would simply have to suffice.

“You spent the night here.”

“And she will tell us the reason if and when she wants to,”

Mrs. Shaw insisted as she kneaded the dough for fresh bread.

“Well, one cannot help but worry,”

Edith insisted.

“Do not worry about me,”

Perdita offered. “I simply needed to sleep elsewhere last night.”

Her answer was not sufficient enough for Edith, but when Mrs. Shaw stared at Edith with a raised eyebrow, she gave up, asked nothing further and left the kitchen. Thank goodness.

“Your secrets are yours, Miss Perdita,”

Mrs. Shaw insisted with understanding. “But we are here to listen if you wish to unburden yourself.”

The offer, without pressure, nearly brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw.”

“What is this about you spending the night in the kitchen,”

Lady Victoria demanded as she stepped into the room. Behind her Edith scurried away and climbed the stairs to what Perdita assumed was to attend to the children who would soon be awake.

“Do you always come in so early?”

Perdita questioned without answering.

“Not always, but today…”

Lady Victoria pursed her lips. “It does not matter why I am here, but why you are?”

“If I may, Lady Victoria,”

Mrs. Shaw began. “When a woman comes to our door at night seeking shelter, we do not question why. We offer a safe haven and wait until she is ready to tell us. Some wait days, some never say, others tell us immediately.”

“Yes, but…”

Goodness! Perdita was not prepared to tell Lady Victoria, or anyone, why she had come here last night.

“Miss Perdita decided she needed to be here and that is all we need to know,”

Mrs. Shaw insisted.

In any other household, it was likely Mrs. Shaw would be turned out without reference for speaking to her employer in such a manner. Instead, Lady Victoria’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “Of course, you are correct.”

She nodded. “If you wish to discuss anything, Perdita, you may come to me. If not, I anticipate that you will soon be at your duties.”

She then turned and walked away.

Her stomach tightened. How soon before they all learned?

Then again, the only truth that the Duke of Clare had learned was that she’d been found in Seven Dials by Uncle Osborn. He had no idea that the rest of her Valentine siblings had also been living there, and he would never know. Nor would anyone.

Perdita finished her tea in one swallow, pinched the bridge of her nose, then went to repair her appearance. Lady Victoria should know the truth, at least the same truth as the Duke of Clare.