Page 148 of Thief of the Ton
“Lavinia—stop!” Lady Betty cried.
“No,” Peregrine said quietly. “Let her continue. I deserve it for the part I played.”
She struck him again, but, other than issue a low grunt, he did nothing. She rendered blow after blow until her arms ached.
“Fight me back, you swine!”
“I have no wish to.”
She grasped his wrists, then drew in a sharp breath. The skin around his knuckles had been torn. Scabs had begun to form, and dark bruises adorned the flesh.
She ran a fingertip along one knuckle, and he winced.
Curse him!How was it that she felt his pain, when she should hate him… No, shedidhate him.
Then she dropped his hand and stepped back, rubbing her own knuckles.
“Lady Betty, please escort this man out,” she said.
“No, daughter,” Papa said. “Lord Marlow didn’t betray you.”
“Papa, you don’t know what you’re saying,” she replied. “Your wits have been addled.”
“Lavinia Augusta Lily!” Papa roared, and she froze at the authority in his voice. “My wits are perfectly sound, thank youverymuch. If we didn’t have company, I’d turn you over my knee and give you a thrashing! Lord Marlow had nothing to do with your arrest.”
“Then why did he leave me to be taken by Houseman?”
Peregrine blushed and offered his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “I had no idea Houseman had worked out it was you—or rather, that my father had told him. Forgive me, Lavinia. I’d intended to return the next day and take you away, but I’d already ridden my horse too hard, and I feared I would lame him. I thought a day or two would make no difference. As it was, it made all the difference in the world.”
He dropped to his knees, hands outstretched.
“Can you ever forgive me, my love?”
For a moment, she recalled what he’d said about Lancelot—the pony that his father had forced him to shoot. Tears of sorrow and regret had shone in his eyes at the notion of having brought someone he loved to destruction.
“You’re within your rights to hate me,” he said. “I hate myself for not acting sooner. But believe me when I say that I shall love you until my dying day. If you send me away today, still I would love you. To me, no woman can compare to your purity of soul, your passion for justice, and the kindness that runs so deep, I swear your very bones have been fashioned from it.”
He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He lifted it to his lips.
At that moment, another knock came on the front door.
“What is this—a luncheon party?” Lady Betty said. “William, go and see who it is, then send them on their way.”
“Very good, miss.” The footman bowed and disappeared.
Peregrine glanced about the room, and his gaze settled on the clock.
“Yes, Lord Marlow, it’s taken pride of place,” Papa said.
“Youbrought it?” Lavinia asked.
Peregrine nodded. Then, still on his knees, he drew closer and placed his head on her stomach, circling her with his arms.
“Yes, my darling,” he said. “I promised I’d restore it to its rightful owner, and I did. I’m only sorry that I was too late.” He raised his head and addressed Papa. “Sir, I do not deserve your regard, or forgiveness, but I pledge to you, here and now, that your daughter will want for nothing. And in the time that you have left, however long that is, I shall do my utmost to show you the sincerity of my love for her.”
He rose to his feet and drew her close. The adoration in his eyes melted her anger, and she tilted her face toward him, offering her lips for a kiss. Caring not that Papa and Lady Betty bore witness to their love, she drew in a deep breath, relishing the woodsy, masculine scent of him.
His warm breath caressed her cheek, and she parted her lips in invitation.
