Page 40 of Love Abandoned

Chapter Seventeen

Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.

—William Blake,Vala, or The Four Zoas

Richard sat woodenlyin the now familiar back parlor, refusing to fidget, although restlessness was making him edgy. If it weren’t for the lives that might be saved, he’d be done with this business and focusing on his own. And Elizabeth. He’d followed Walford’s contact instructions and sent a message to a man named Miller, indicating he would be at his usual place this evening. Richard assumed the man was out front, although he’d seen no evidence of it. There must be a way for them to untangle this mess through their surveillance.

“My lord,” Mrs. Tate said smoothly as she glided across the parlor to the decanter on the side table. “Some port?”

“Not this evening. I’d like to see Miss Patricia.”

Her back stiffened, and she poured a glass anyway before turning around. “I trust you don’t mind if I do?”

“Not at all.”

She took his measure as she sipped, and he wondered at her game. Her dress was more conservative this evening, although by no means discreet. He did not think she was making a play for him again. So if not that, then what?

“May I?” she asked, waving at the settee across from his chair.

“Please do.” His patience was wearing thin, but he’d not let it show. He wanted to get in and back out without complications and, with a little luck, return to the house in time to bid Elizabeth good night.

Mrs. Tate draped herself provocatively across the settee, pulling her feet up and leaning forward so her assets were once again on full display. He remained unconvinced her goal was seduction. He waited as she took another sip.

“I must confess I’m quite surprised you have come to frequent my humble abode. Pleased, mind you, but puzzled by it.”

“It was recommended. And I find myself…” Richard hesitated, seeking the right word. “…satisfied.”

“Oh, do tell,” she said.

He’d not anticipated an inquisition nor had he time for one. He raised a commanding eyebrow at her to no apparent effect.

“We don’t get many noblemen here, my lord. I’m curious about how it truly came to pass that you found us.” She coyly wrapped one of the draped silks around her hand as though she was only vaguely interested in his answer.

“I would see Miss Patricia now,” he said, standing.

“She is busy tidying up from her last gentleman.” Mrs. Tate pushed herself to a decent sitting position. “No need for you to have someone’s leftovers, my lord. Let me offer you some other enticement.”

Damn.He’d not considered the owner would try to switch off Patricia.

“Someone younger? Unsullied by others?” Her voice was slow and inviting, but her eyes were sharp as a harrier hawk’s as she waited for his response.

“I’ve no interest in any other. It is not my inclination to frequent such establishments nor risk relations with multiple women.” He’d decided an honest rebuttal was the safest route.

“Which brings us full circle, doesn’t it, my lord? If it is not your inclination, why have you come?” She stood and faced him.

Richard was stymied by her boldness and had no immediate answer. “If you cannot provide what I need, I shall look elsewhere.” He turned to leave.

“My Lord Thornwood, I would not deny you anything,” she said, cooing soothingly. “You will find Patricia in the blue room, as usual.”

He did not look back at her. Instead, he followed the footman who opened the door and closed it after he stepped in. Patricia lay with her back to him. Even in the dim light, he could see she’d lost weight, and he regretted the sight of the sharp bones of her shoulders and her spinal column.

“Patricia,” Richard said quietly, stepping closer to the bed. She rolled over, and he swallowed a curse. The right side of her face was mottled with bruises and the corner of her lips swollen twice its size. “Patricia,” he said again and sat on the edge of the bed. He pushed strands of hair off her face. “Who did this to you?”

“Your news is tucked behind the paper hanging behind the dressing table,” she said, ignoring his question. “Get it now, in case we are checked.”

He did as she directed and moved across the room, easily shifting the small table. He ran his hand along the seam of the flocked blue paper until he detected a slight ridge. With the tips of his fingers, he eased the document carefully from its place.

“There are two today,” she said, watching him from the bed.

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