Page 66 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Thirty

Gone—glimmering through the dream of things that were.

—Byron,Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

Richard paced hisstudy. He’d arranged for Patricia to be dropped at a coaching house and instructed Simon to wait until she’d made arrangements. He didn’t know where she was going, and he didn’t care to. He could do no more for her. Nor could he assist the Home Office any longer. He regretted the loss of information to help the war effort, but the line of communication had gone dry, and putting Patricia at Bridewell would be of no benefit to anyone.

How to handle Elizabeth was not so clear. He wanted to rush upstairs and explain what she had seen. But how could he? He’d sworn an oath of confidentiality. Even if he did demand the same discretion of Elizabeth, how would she accept that he’d been regularly visiting a brothel and meeting his ex-mistress? A mistress she’d never known existed. He ran both hands through his hair and shook his head in frustration. He should never have agreed to enter into this intrigue. Deception was an endless loop.

He wrote a note to the Home Office and grabbed the final missive from Patricia, tucking them both safely into his pocket. He’d finish this business and take time to decide how best to deal with Elizabeth. He needed to tread carefully. Richard did not want to hurt her more than he already had.

Hastings was the consummate professional as he assisted Richard with his greatcoat, but Richard could sense his censure. He didn’t blame the man. He’d had to escort Patricia into the town house and witness the distress of his mistress when she’d found her husband enclosed in his study with a prostitute. Richard was grateful for the man’s discretion. Both Hastings and Mrs. Fernsby would ensure this little escapade was not whispered about beyond these walls.

“Shall I find a hackney, my lord?” Hastings said, obviously aware the coach was elsewhere, and equally clearly, he did not approve of its current use.

“I shall walk,” Richard said, putting on his hat.

“And what will I tell Lady Thornwood should she ask about your whereabouts?”

Damned if he knew. “Whatever you want,” he snapped and left Hastings and his astonished expression behind. But he could not leave the memory of Elizabeth’s expression behind. It haunted him as he made his way to White’s. Wiggled under his skin as he slipped the sheets in the allocated book. Danced before him as he sipped his third sherry, the roaring fireplace doing nothing to chase the chill from his bones or her face from his mind.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Walford sunk into the chair beside Richard.

Richard lolled his head to look at Walford, hating the pity he saw in his friend’s eyes. He returned his stare to the fire. “It is over. This business. For me, anyway. I’ve told them that.” He thrust his chin in the direction of the book. “It’s the last missive. And Patricia is gone.”

“What do you mean,gone?”

“Out of it. She had no idea who was feeding her the information. And she had no way to contact him. He always sought her out. The bloody man never even collected payment.”

“And you believed her?”

Richard nodded, saying nothing further as the server handed Walford a brandy and refreshed Richard’s sherry. When the server was well out of earshot, Richard continued, “I did. I do.”

“But the Home Office will not have your faith,” Walford said, swirling the brandy in his glass, watching him.

“I know. Which is why she’s gone,” Richard said, taking a large sip of his sherry. “I am assured we will not see her again, and I hope to God they are unable to find her.”

Walford did not look entirely surprised by this turn of events. “You once encouraged my compassion. I would expect you to demand no less from yourself.” He clasped Richard’s shoulder. “I’m glad for it. For her. For you. Let your conscience be at ease on that front. They’ll find other sources.”

Richard took another drink, thankful for Walford’s understanding. He’d proven to be as true a friend as Richard hoped he’d proven to be to Walford last summer. He was grateful Walford had come by the club. Unusual for him to drop in without preplanning it. Richard’s brow creased as he turned to Walford. “What brings you here?”

“More like who.”

Richard shook his head slowly from side to side. He did not want to hear anything more from the Home Office. He was good and truly done.

“Catherine,” Walford said, eyeing him over his glass. “It seems she received a note from Elizabeth. They have grown closer these last weeks.”

Richard stared into the fire, not responding. What was there to say? He could not blame Elizabeth for seeking her friend’s support. No doubt Countess Tessaro was already aware of what happened as well.

“She has requested to return with us to the country at week’s end.”

Richard’s head snapped around. He had not expected such quick action.

“She and Sophia had been helping your wife choose seductive nightwear.” Walford held up a hand before Richard could respond. “Catherine’s words, not mine. But apparently there was some gossip. About you. A suggestion of an affair. Catherine was shocked it had progressed so quickly to Elizabeth wanting to leave the city. I assumed it had something to do with your business here. Figured I’d come see if I could help sort it.” Walford sat back in his chair and waited.

Richard relayed all that had happened while his head spun. Elizabeth had hoped for more nights with him. Nights he could not give. He detested that she wanted to leave him, but he also debated if it would not be for the best.

“Tell her,” Walford said quietly, when Richard was through giving his accounting.

“Tell her what? That I have been spying? I gave my word, Nicholas.”

“And is your word worth the price of your marriage?”

There was a time the answer to that question would have come easily. Nothing was worth destroying his marriage. But now? He had proven he could not keep her safe. This was the only way.

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