Peregrine's Prize Read Free

considering look.
"You've read your news from Gerard?"
    Perry snorted. "If you can call two pages of
nothing, news, then yes. I suspect you will have heard differently?"
    Martin inclined his head. "Gerard tells each of
us what he thinks is necessary for us to know. It has always been thus."
    Perry harrumphed. How on earth could he answer that?
"Did letter three ever appear?"
    Martin shook his head and a frown line showed on his
forehead. "No, although I have put enquiries into place. It could be that Gerard
numbered the missives wrongly though I hardly think that is likely, not
him." Nor did Perry: his father's methodological and orderly mind went
before him.
    "I also have a letter from Aitken at Marsh
Hall," Martin told him. "He would like your advice on several things
regarding the estate. Shall I let him know you'll visit?"
    Perry groaned. He considered Marsh Hall in March the
worst thing possible. One of his own, more modest properties, it was situated in
the North Riding of Yorkshire. A ride of several days, unless you were Dick
Turpin the notorious highwayman, who purported to do the ride from York to
London in a matter of hours. Perry distrusted that declaration because the
situation of his property, several hours further north than York, meant a long
and arduous journey. The road in that direction would be in a poor state after
a hard winter. He ran his finger over the smooth wood of the desk, enjoying the
sense of time the desk portrayed. The desk had been brought to London from
Marsh Hall. It previously belonged to father and his grandfather before him.
Perry was very conscious of the past and the history in it and the other
furniture in his study. It represented all things good and great, and positive
about his beloved country. Marsh Hall in its own way symbolized the same thing.
    "I suppose I'd better go, even though I think
I'd be better served staying in London." Unfortunately, not served in a
sexual way, that part of life was sadly lacking. Perry allowed himself a brief
thought about the one special lady he had to deny himself. Without her his desire
to couple vanished, and his hand sufficed to give him release whenever
necessary.
    "Send a message. I'll be there as soon as I
can. At least the weather has not been inclement, and the roads should be
passable." He wasn't sure if he tried to reassure himself or Martin. "I'll
call in to Nash on the way." Whether his intention was wise, Perry had no
idea, but he decided to visit just to reassure himself that his lady stayed
safe. Indeed without Nash, Perry might not have the opportunity to discover if
he and his lady had a future, and he could only hope he hadn't jeopardized Nash
and Felicity's safety. First with Harold and Martin, and now Maggie. Peregrine sighed
and wondered if the food at the manor had improved over the months since Harold
left. Nash's chef, a volatile Frenchman has an unrequited passion for Harold. Harold
chose to ignore it—or more likely didn't even notice—much to Andre's chagrin.
    Life, in all areas is
so complicated.
    Peregrine was ever grateful he kept his private life
just that—private. It had been an annoyance to have to house the American in
his cottage on Hampstead Heath. Up until then Perry rather thought sure the
building hadn't been known to his family. Now Harold was privy to its whereabouts,
and the type of occupant it housed. Luckily no one who stayed there ever used
their own name, but he knew fine well Harry christened the bedrooms Abigail's
and Marietta's rooms. Why came up with those names Perry had no idea, but he
was happy his brother decided there were two female occupants. Once Perry
decreed the cottage no longer available for anything to do with his work, he
used it as his bolt hole. Therefore he would do anything to guard the identity
of the lady who shared the house with him. How Harry knew one of the occupants
was female posed no problem. Lavender or violet lotions and soaps were a sure
give away. Sadly, now as