Revenge In Regency Society. Gail Whitiker

Anna repeated, confused. ‘But … when were the two of you ever at a society function together?’

      ‘It wasn’t at a society function we met.’ Peregrine ran his fingers through his hair, hopelessly dishevelling it. ‘Edward had been on at me, saying that if I had any hopes of becoming a gentleman, I needed to educate myself in gentlemanly ways.

      That meant knowing how to shoot, how to ride and how to fence. Since I’m already a good rider and I can handle a gun, that only left fencing, a sport to which I’ve had absolutely no exposure. Edward offered to take me to Angelo’s and I met the Marquess of Yew there.’

      ‘That doesn’t explain how you met his wife,’ Anna pointed out.

      ‘She was waiting for him outside in their carriage,’ Peregrine said. ‘Edward pointed her out to me when we arrived. When I commented on how beautiful she was, he kindly offered to introduce us.’

      Kindly? Anna doubted her brother had ever had a kind thought in his head when it came to Peregrine. ‘All right, so you were introduced. If you knew Lady Yew was married, why did you pursue her?’

      ‘Because on the way home after the match, Edward told me about their marriage. He said it was a loveless union and that Lady Yew was desperately unhappy because Yew paraded his mistresses right under her nose and didn’t give a damn as to what she thought.’

      ‘Be that as it may, she is his wife and you were wrong to interfere.’

      ‘But she doesn’t love him!’ Peregrine said, his voice rising. ‘She told me that what she feels for me is the most wonderful, the most exciting feeling she’s ever experienced, and that when we finally are able to be together—’

      ‘Together?’ Anna interrupted incredulously. ‘Are you telling me that Lady Yew said she was going to leave her husband?’

      ‘Not in so many words, but—’

      ‘Don’t play games with me, Peregrine. Did she or did she not say that she was going to leave her husband?’

      ‘Not exactly, but—’

      ‘So she made you no promises that she would run away with you,’ she said flatly.

      ‘Well, no, but—’

      ‘There are no buts, Peregrine. Lady Yew has been playing with you.’

      ‘She wouldn’t do that!’ he said hotly. ‘You don’t understand how it is between us! She loves me!’

      ‘Love? I doubt the woman knows the meaning of the word,’ Anna said dismissively. ‘In fact, I can give you the names of at least ten other young men with whom she claims to be in love. Men with whom she has flirted and danced and driven nearly insane with jealousy. It’s what she does.’

      ‘I don’t believe you,’ Peregrine said, stubbornly clinging to his beliefs. ‘She said nothing to me about other men. And even if there were, it doesn’t signify. What she felt for them could be nothing compared to what she feels for me. She said she’s never met anyone like me before.’

      Anna sat down, aware that Peregrine was no more educated in the ways of love than poor Mercy Banks. ‘I’m sorry, Peregrine, but Lady Yew is not going to run away with you. Her husband is one of the richest men in England. He owns properties in four counties and his personal worth is staggering. As his wife, Lady Yew is one of the most influential women in society. If you think she would risk throwing that all away to run off with the penniless godson of the Earl of Cambermere, I would advise you to think again.’

      ‘But Edward said—’

      ‘I don’t care what Edward said,’ Anna said, though she damn well did care and she intended to talk to her brother at the first opportunity. ‘Tradition is the foundation upon which society is built. Noble families marry into noble families, thereby ensuring that the tradition carries on. Casting discretion to the wind and haring off because you believe yourself in love with someone else’s husband or wife is destructive to the fabric of society—and nobody knows that better than those who occupy its uppermost rungs. I’m sorry, Peregrine, but the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to get over this as quickly as possible and then move on with your life.’

      Anna knew it was a sobering speech, but she also knew it was one Peregrine needed to hear. He had to understand that his hopes were futile, that whatever dreams he harboured were as insubstantial as fairy dust.

      ‘But I love her,’ he whispered, misery inflecting every word. ‘How am I supposed to get over that? I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.’

      ‘You get over it by waking up each day and telling yourself that she is married to a man who will never divorce her … even if she wished him to.’

      Anna said the words as gently as she could, but she still saw Peregrine wince and felt her heart go out to him. It was never easy hearing that the person you loved didn’t love you in return. In fact, finding out that you were little more than a source of amusement, whether it be for an hour or a day, or even a year, was the most devastating thing imaginable. It destroyed your confidence and tore at the very foundation of who you were.

      Having been through it, Anna knew exactly how injurious it was to one’s sense of well-being.

      For a few minutes, Peregrine just sat there, his brow furrowed, his eyes bleak with despair as he struggled to come to terms with everything she had told him. It was hard waking up from a dream, but he had been indulging in an impossible fantasy; for his own good, Anna knew he had to come back to reality.

      He finally stood up and slowly began to walk around the room. ‘Part of my reason for staying out last night,’ he said slowly, ‘was because I was embarrassed. I never expected your father to find out what was going on. I thought it was just between Sus—between Lady Yew and myself.’

      ‘Yes, I’m sure you did,’ Anna said. ‘But while London might seem like a big city, never forget that there are eyes and ears everywhere. When you play with fire, you will eventually get burned.’

      ‘I know, but you never really believe that. It’s as though you’re living in a bubble. You can see out, but no one can see in. But, of course, everyone can.’ Peregrine dropped his head and breathed a long, deep sigh. ‘Your father thought it would be a good idea if I were to … write a letter to Lord Yew, apologising for my behaviour. He said that if I promised not to see Lady Yew again, it might … smooth things over with him.’ He raised his head. ‘Do you think he’s right?’

      Aware that it was Sir Barrington Parker who had suggested writing the letter, Anna simply inclined her head. ‘I think the letter a good idea, yes. With luck, it will set the marquess’s mind to rest and persuade him to let the matter go. Because if he takes it into his head to persecute you, Peregrine, there will be no future for you in London.’

      Peregrine nodded, and for a full five minutes he was silent, reviewing his options. Then, as if realising he had none, he said finally, ‘Very well. I shall write the letter. But I’ll give it to you, rather than to your father. I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.’

      ‘Don’t be a goose, of course he wants to see you.’

      ‘You weren’t there,’ Peregrine said ruefully. ‘You didn’t see the look on his face. Why do you think I lied to him, Anna? God knows I didn’t want to. But when I saw how disappointed he was at even having to ask me if I was involved with Lady Yew, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth. So I lied. That’s why I couldn’t stay here last night,’ Peregrine admitted. ‘I was too ashamed to sleep under the same roof as him. He’s been so good to me. I couldn’t bear to repay him like this.’

      ‘Oh, Peregrine,’ Anna whispered. ‘If Father was disappointed, it was only because he cares about you and wants you to do well in London. He knows how harsh society can be towards those who flaunt its rules.’

      ‘Then society is