Page 26 of Love Abandoned

“If you are referring to me, I do believe I left you with enough money and advice so you’d need not return to…” He could not call it by name. Patricia had never been a harlot to him. He’d actually been fond of her.

“What would a woman like me know of investments and such?”

“You should have come to me,” he said, wishing he could turn back time and do things differently. What that would be, he didn’t know. But he’d had no wish to see her so fallen. There must have been something he could have done?

“You had fallen in love, Thornwood. How was I to come to you, if you would no longer come to me willingly? You were generous in your departure. It is my failings that see me here, not yours.” She flicked her hair over her shoulders. “Besides, I have come to you now, haven’t I?”

She shifted off the bed and turned around, exposing her backside to him as she fumbled under the mattress. Richard turned his head and stared at the painting on the wall. He was out of his depth, an intruder. He was sure she was trying to entice him, but he was definitely not tempted. Not even a little bit titillated. His desire was reserved for only one woman. A woman who would be appalled if she knew where he was right now.

“I knew the old hag would put a lord in this room,” she said as she turned around. “It’s her best, you know,” she added with a bitter laugh. “Here.”

She thrust out a folded paper, and Richard took it, tucking it inside his jacket without looking at it. Patricia flipped her hand over, palm up, and raised her eyebrows expectantly. Richard pulled out a small bag, the irony of its blue velvet not lost on him, and handed it over. She took it, weighing it in her hands thoughtfully, but she did not untie the strings.

“Don’t you want to check it?” he asked.

She laughed. “I trust you. It is not in your nature to deceive.”

Richard pulled out his pocket watch. “I believe my manhood would remain intact should I leave now.”

“Unless you want me to check to ensure your manhood is as it should be,” she said, switching to a seductive purr.

He stepped back from her approach, and she stopped, her smile oddly sad. “A girl can dream,” she said and stepped quickly to him, pulling his face close. She quickly rubbed her lips across his cheek and pulled at his hair before he could stop her. “There,” she said, wiping at the corner of her mouth where her rouged lips had smudged. “Now you look like you’ve been doing more than talking.”

She patted his pocket. “There will be more where this came from. For a price. I’ll be in touch.”

Patricia walked to the bed and threw a pillow on the floor, tugged at the coverlet, and poured a small amount of liquid from the water glass onto the bedding. She pulled the cord, tossed off her gown, and sprawled on the bed. Richard averted his eyes, grateful it was only seconds before a footman knocked and opened the door.

“This way, my lord.”

Richard followed him through the dimly lit hallway, his heart heavy with regret for a life that should have turned out so much better.

*

“I believe Ishall,” Richard said, accepting a second cognac from the servant. The first had chased the chill from his bones. He’d passed the paper to Walford before taking up his own position in the shadowed doorway across from the brothel. He’d not seen Walford since. He didn’t know if Walford continued to wait out back of the building or whether he’d gone to deliver the information. Richard had waited in the cold for a good hour, and when it became clear Patricia had either gone out another door or remained inside entertaining customers, he’d headed to the club to wait for Walford.

“Ugh,” Bentley said as he folded his long body into the chair opposite Richard. He was dressed too formally for a night of cards in the back rooms. “Another blasted ball,” he said, raising his hand to garner a footman’s attention. “Another night being thrown to the wolves…er…ladies.”

Richard chuckled. “You’ve nobody to blame but yourself. You’re twenty-nine. Far past time for you to have chosen a wife and settled down.”

Bentley brushed off an imaginary crumb on his lapel before responding. “Why settle for a single flower when one can have a bouquet?” he asked, taking the glass of port from the waiter. “Besides, you and Walford picked the roses. There is only goutweed left.”

“Ah, but goutweed has a delicate, sweet-smelling flower. Don’t discount it,” Richard countered.

“That may be. But it is boringly common and damned prolific.” He threw back his port, and Richard laughed.

“Too many mamas throwing their treasures at you, Bentley?” Walford asked, sliding smoothly into the chair beside Bentley. “Thornwood,” he said, dipping his head toward Richard in acknowledgment. “How fare you gentlemen this evening?”

Looking none the worse for his night out in the cold, Walford was as superior an actor as Patricia. Her impassivity when she’d been brought into the receiving room had been worthy of the stage. He’d believed it. Now Walford showed no sign at all of what they’d been up to. Richard would keep his own self in check and ensure he did not let the game be known either.

“I was commiserating with Bentley over the woes of bachelorhood,” Richard said, and Bentley moaned melodramatically.

“May I suggest marriage?” Walford said. “I highly recommend it.”

“I already proposed it as a solution, and he wants none of it. Apparently, we have taken the best off the market.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Walford took his glass off the servant’s tray and raised it in the air. “To our wives and the good fortune they tolerate us.”

Bentley snorted disdainfully. He finished off his port and got to his feet. “Off to sacrifice my self-respect once again,” he said, bowing slightly.

---