A Fiery Dalliance

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"In the end, we forget the details of our lives that embarrass us or are too painful. We just lie back and allow ourselves to float along calmly over the deep waters, with our eyes closed." Patrick Modiano, So You Don't Get Lost in the Neighborhood

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X.

Joe had never found Perrie Beresford to be a particularly endearing person, which was why he never suffered any guilt for any of the ridiculously immature behaviours he engaged in specifically to annoy her. Of course, when she retaliated in an equally immature way, there was never any need for guilt.

And neither one of them had ever attempted to atone for or apologise for a prank before either.

Until today.

Joe had lost his composure, his sanity, temporarily. He had not reacted to Perrie's prank, but to his own circumstances, and he had directed his ire and frustration solely at her. Joe had thrown everything at Perrie, and she had taken it. Extraordinarily, Perrie had taken it all.

And for the first time in the eleven years that he had known her, Perrie had attempted to make amends. She was the first of them both to properly apologise, and Joe had seen that she had meant every word.

Except she was apologising for a sin that was not hers. And as much as Joe would have revelled in having Perrie under his thumb like she was in any other circumstance, his own conscience couldn't have her apologising for this.

What she had pulled that morning was ridiculous and annoying. But it was no different to Joe leaning forward with a pair of scissors and cutting off a chunk of her hair when they were in school. Had Joe been in his right mind, as soon as he found the butter in his boots or the holes in his breeches, he would have begun plotting his counterattack.

But instead, he had been forced to sit with this awful feeling of guilt all day. He loathed Perrie for ruining his possessions, but the way he had behaved towards her was unforgiveable. He had chased her and shouted at her because of his own demons, and that was not right.

And despite this, despite his behaviour, Perrie had come to him, and she had tried to settle him. And then she had spent the better part of her day mending his breeches for him because she believed that his reaction was entirely her fault.

It had been mostly her fault, but not all.

Joe was still mortified at the way that Perrie had entered his bedroom to return his breeches, but the sentiment (which was a word he never believe that he would associate with Perrie Beresford) was not lost on him.

Perrie had apologised profusely for her own sins, and the sins of others, those she was unaware of. Joe's conscience was challenging him on this, and he had been forced to sit beside her at dinner while going through this inner conflict.

When he wasn't engaged in conversation, Joe was actively avoiding Perrie's eyes. He didn't know if it was his mind playing tricks on him, but they looked larger and bluer that evening. Perhaps it was an effect of her own guilt.

What he had not factored into consideration on what was most definitely his most challenging day at Ashwood thus far, was the duchess and dowager duchess planning a ball in which his family were invited to attend.

Joe had barely even begun to contemplate what he would do or say, when as the meal came to an end, he knew that he would have to speak to Perrie. He needed to do the right thing, to ease his own conscience so that they might return to their usual routine of healthy hatefulness.

What he had not realised, however, was that Perrie had been speaking to him. When Perrie had accused him of ignoring her, her eyes, the bright blue orbs which were twice as large as they normally were, looked hurt. Joe's own stomach squeezed tightly as he sensed this.