Page 70 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Thirty-Four

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,

And shares the nature of infinity.

—Wordsworth,The Borderers

Richard stared vacantlyat the empty nursery. He sat at the small desk in the corner, feeling completely ridiculous and absolutely lost. He came here every few days to write a letter to William. At least on that, he could keep his word. He’d not much to say so often relied on giving him advice on how to care for his pony and how to help out around the manor.

He’d been working on a treatise about social conditions and street urchins and their connection to crime, trying to draft a proposal for housing and education in the poorer areas of London. He doubted he would get a chance to present it at parliament this season. The war effort came first, the lords pounded the floor with their questions and concerns, and the government solicited their support. His proposition was something positive to come from the affair with Patricia, he supposed. Regardless, it was good to have a purpose. As Elizabeth had with the orphanage.

Elizabeth. He could push her to the back of his mind during the business of the day, but she did not leave him at night. He saw, over and again, her joyous smile at the picnic announcement regarding the orphanage, her ashen face in the doorway of his study, her stiff posture and pained expression as William said goodbye. Even knowing she could hold nothing but contempt for him now, he tossed at night, longing for her. Her laughter, the warmth in her eyes, her touch. He repeatedly dreamed about their night together, reliving it, spending himself in the empty bed. His endless desire for her only confirmed he must stay the course and remain in London. Alone.

“My lord?” Clarkson’s tall frame darkened the doorway. “A note has come for you. I would have left it in your study, but it is marked urgent.”

“Give it here,” Richard said, folding his letter and handing it to Clarkson in exchange for the note. “See that it goes out today.”

Clarkson bowed and turned to leave.

“Who delivered this?” Richard asked, noting the neat printing but nondescript seal.

“A young boy, my lord. I asked him to await a response, but he said he wasn’t supposed to and ran off before I could grab his collar.”

“Thank you,” Richard said, dismissing him and walking over to the window. He looked out at the street below but could see no sign of the child. Not that he’d really expected to. The ragamuffins used for delivery moved like mice in the night, darting quickly and blending into their surroundings.

Richard unfolded the note, his heart rate accelerating as he read it.

I have news of your woman. Meet me, as before, at three. M.

His pulse slowed when he realized it was not about Elizabeth.M.Miller had referred to Patricia as his woman. It could only be him. Richard tore the note in two. He was done with this business. It had wreaked enough havoc in his life. He stomped downstairs and tossed it onto the fire before throwing himself in a chair. The clock struck two, and Richard cursed and got to his feet.Hell and devil confound it!He could not ignore the command. He must ensure Patricia was safe.

He got to the pond before Miller, considered dismounting but decided against it. This was not a social call. He’d let the man speak, then be on his way. Horatio shifted restlessly. Richard was in a foul mood, and it was not surprising the horse would pick up on it. He tugged at his collar as a cold breeze drifted across the pond, swirling the light drizzle around his neck. Miserable afternoon to be out.

Richard heard Miller’s footfalls, but he continued to stare at the water. Let the man come to him. He’d show him who had the power in this relationship. He harrumphed to himself.Relationship.There was no relationship, and he’d make it clear there would be none in the future.

“Lord Thornwood,” Miller said, stepping beside the horse and moving a few paces forward to face him.

Richard did not greet him. He waited silently for him to explain why he had the audacity to summon him.

Miller eyed him as he took off his hat and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Miss Paisley has been taken.”

“What do you mean, ‘taken’?” Richard asked tersely, although all his haughty anger was quickly deflating as he chased the concept through his mind.

“Kidnapped. She was on her way to York and was plucked.”

“I thought you’d already lost her. Was that not the point of your anger with me?”

“I picked up her trail in Leeds. She’d gotten on the coach to York, but she didn’t arrive. According to the driver, they’d stopped for some food and she didn’t return to the coach.”

“Have you considered she was onto you and slipped away? It wouldn’t be the first time,” Richard said bitterly. Their inability to keep Patricia in their sights, never mind deduce the spy, was what had led to the scene in his study. “It is also possible she’d never intended to go all the way to York. I see nothing nefarious in any of this, nor do I see a need to have dragged me out to tell me about it.”

“I assumed since you turned your back on the Home Office to help her on her way, you cared something of what became of her. It would seem I was wrong.” He jammed his hat on his head. “Good day, my lord.”

Miller walked past him, toward the walnut grove. Something was off, but Richard couldn’t put his finger on it. He turned Horatio and faced the departing figure. “Why doyoubelieve she’s been taken?” he shouted.

Miller turned around. “Because they’ve asked for a ransom,” he said and turned and walked away.

Devil it!Richard heeled Horatio and trotted after Miller. It would seem he was not done with this business after all.

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