His Lady Peregrine

by Ruth J.
Hartman

Published by esKape
Press

www.eskapepress.com

Smashwords
Edition

All Rights
Reserved

Copyright © 2015 RUTH J.
HARTMAN

ISBN-10:
194069566X

ISBN-13:
9781940695662

Cover Art Design by For the
Muse Design

This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any
similarities to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, are
purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names,
or named features are the property of their respective owners and
are used for reference only and not an implied endorsement.

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Other titles by Ruth J.
Hartman

Historical
Romance

A Courtship for Cecilia

The Unwanted Earl

Love Birds of Regent’s Park

The Matchmakers

Romancing the Dustman’s Daughter

Romance at the Royal Menagerie

Rescued by a Duke

Time for a Duke

Contemporary
Romance

Flossophy of Grace

Pillow Talk

Cats and Cowboys

Better Than Catnip

Purrfect Voyage

Grin and Barrett

Mind of a Stranger

Waylaid

Memoir

Life in Mental Chains

Children’s Book

Murphy in the Paw-Paw Patch

Dedication

To love birds, young and
old.

Percy Radcliff’s
family
thought him mad. He knew
that. Though they tried to hide their reactions to his love of
anything avian, it came across very clearly that they didn’t share
his interest. Certainly they admired birds, but none of them often
wished to actually
be
one.
If he said so himself, his
imitation of a cawing crow was spot on.

As he
sat on the shaded bench near the front
gate of Regent’s Park Bird Sanctuary, he observed the objects of
his greatest interest. Birds of various sizes, squawking, chirping,
or otherwise speaking in his or her own tongue, darted around,
intent on completing their daily tasks. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to
be able to join them in their airborne pursuits? To know the joy of
wind through your feathers and raising your young, freshly hatched
from the egg?

The majestic
peregrine, however, was by far Percy’s favorite. With its blue-grey
feathers, orange eyes, white throat, and black feathers on each
side of its face to resemble a long moustache, it was a fascinating
specimen indeed.

And quite funny.

He’d spotted one
on his visit the week before. Perhaps today he’d be just as
fortunate. Somehow
, if he went
too long of a time without seeing one, it felt as if something was
lacking. Because of his love of birds, he often spoke of them at
home. More often than not, he overheard whispered jokes about him
belonging at Bedlam.

If only they
understood the importan
ce of a
relationship with birds, that man’s feathered friends were much
more than just something to view. Something to occasionally pay
attention to. Alas, his family’s admiration didn’t go beyond
watching and listening to them. Or the occasional exclamation of
delight after seeing this bird or that doing something unusual or
entertaining.

But it wasn’t the same thing. Not
at all.

Percy let out a
deep sigh. If one of his family or friends, just
one
,
felt the same way he did about his feathered friends, his life
would be filled with so much more fulfillment. So much
joy.

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

A sudden
crash startled him. He turned and
gasped. Someone was lying in a heap a few yards away. Good heavens,
it was a woman!

Percy
jumped up and ran in her direction.
Though he couldn’t run fast — few men of his age of one and fifty
could, after all — he got there as quickly as his booted feet would
allow.

The woman, who
from her
greying hair and
slightly wrinkled skin appeared to be not a young woman yet not
quite his age, blinked up at him in surprise. Her features, though,
were cloaked in shadow from beneath the dipping branches of the
large oak tree.

“
Madam, are you well?”

She quirked one
eyebrow. “Sir, if I were well, would I be sitting here in a tangled
lump beneath this tree?”

He’d expected
tears and wailing, as was the usual response from most women.
“
Uh… I suppose not.”

“
A
re you or are
you
not
going to assist me to my feet?”

“
Certainly. Pardon my… uh—”

The woman swiped
a lock
of hair from in front of
her eyes. “Never mind that, just lend me your hand.”

Percy wrapped
his hand around hers and gave a hefty tug. With a
sque
ak of surprise, the woman
thudded hard against his chest. He tightened his arms around her so
she wouldn’t fall.

A
beam of sunshine washed across the
woman’s face.

Percy’s breath
caught in his throat, nearly depriving him of air
altogether. Could it be?

Bla
ck hair with just a
touch of grey. Ivory skin on her face and throat. As a bright ray
of sunlight glinted in her eyes, their light brown color appeared
nearly… orange.

The woman
resembled
a
peregrine
.

Without the
moustache.
Thankfully.

She pushed
against his chest until he released her.
“What are you gawking at? Your open mouth resembles a
chiff-chaff’s beak.”

He closed his
beak, uh, mouth.
“I… beg your
pardon?”

“
I don’t believe I stutt
ered.”

“
B-but—”

She pointed to
his mouth.
“Though,
you
just did.” Without preamble, as if he hadn’t just hauled her
into his arms, she gave a moderate curtsey. “I am Lady
Ollerton.”

Lady?
The woman had no pretense, no formality
about her. And she’d just introduced herself to a man as they stood
alone beneath a tree. How odd. Yet somehow refreshing. An
interesting tingle began in his toes and crawled upward.

Percy shrugged.
Might as well respond in kind. With one hand at his waist and the
other performing a slight flourish to the side, he gave a bow. “And
I am Mr. Radcliff.”

“
Here. Hold this.” Lady Ollerton thrust a large fabric
sack into his arms.

He’d expected it
to be heavy,
though it was light
as a feather. “What’s this?”

“
F
eathers.”

“
You don’t say?” How odd that he’d thought—

“
I believe I just did.”

The
woma
n’s tongue was as sharp as a
woodpecker’s. “May I ask
why
you’re carrying around
a sack of feathers?”

She crossed her
arms beneath her ample breasts, causing her cleavage to deepen in
the most fascinating way. “
You
may.”

“
I… uh.” Wasn’t the
asking
if he could ask the
same as asking?

“
Go on, Mr. Radcliff. I don’t have the whole of the day to
spend conversing, now do I?”

With his brow
furrowed, Percy forced the words from his mouth, though a part of
him thought it silly. She was perplexing, yet… he somehow felt a
certain kinship with her. As if he’d found someone who would pique
his interest. Someone of whom he would never tire. “Why are you
carrying those around?” He pointed directly at the sack so she’d
not have a chance to act as if she had no notion of what he
meant.

Miss
Ollerton
placed one hand on her
chest as if preparing to utter the most profound proclamation.
Percy’s gaze followed her hand. “I find
birds
to be the most
interesting creatures God ever made. Their beaks, their impossibly
tiny feet, their beady little eyes, and especially—” She gave the
bag a poke with her finger. “—their feathers.” She held up her
hand. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking.”

He snapped his
gaze up
from where it had
wandered to her breasts. “I highly doubt that.”

She ignored his
words. “You’re wondering how I obtain said feathers.”

He
shrugged.
“I assumed you
gathered them from the ground.”

She smacked him
on the arm. “Now see? You actually have some sense! Do you know
there are people who have accused me of trapping birds simply to
pluck their feathers before setting them free again?”

“
How ghastly.” Percy rubbed his arm. The woman had given
him a true wallop.

“
Precisely.”

Percy shook his
head. “
People have no
sense.”

“
People are the
worst.
Some of them, even
my own relations, think I’m mad simply because I happen to have
such a strong affinity for birds. Can you imagine being talked
about in such a way?”

He raised both
eyebrows
.
More than you could ever know.

“
Say, why were you staring at my face right after we
met
? Do I have something
unmentionable on my skin? Dirt? Bird dung?”

Good heavens!
He’d never heard a woman speak so freely about bird refuse
before.
“Not at all. You look
very…”

“
Yes?”

“
Well… fetching.”

“
Then why the need to gawk?”

Should he tell
her? Would she think him mad like the rest of
his
family did?
What did he really have to lose? She was a stranger and he’d likely
never see her again. “If you must know—”