Page 33 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
That evening, Thorne’s gaze rammed into Gillie’s the moment he strode into the tavern. It was more crowded tonight, yet she didn’t look at all harried. Rather she appeared remarkably happy as she glanced briefly away, smiled at some gent while handing him a pint of beer, before returning her attention to Thorne. She was in her element, comfortable and at ease, very much as the ladies he knew who flittered around ballrooms, delighted to be dancing and visiting for a few hours. It had never occurred to him a woman would find satisfaction in work.
Perusing the establishment, he noted two gents leaving a table near a window and headed for it. A pretty blonde barmaid got to it before him, gathered up the empty tankards, wiped the table, and flicked her rag at a man who reached for one of the chairs, effectively chasing him off. Then, jutting out a hip, she gave Thorne a saucy smile. “Hello, Handsome. Looking for a place to sit?”
“I am, as a matter of fact.”
She patted the table. “Make yourself at home.” Sidling a little closer, she batted her eyelashes at him. “What’s your pleasure?”
“I have it, Polly,” Gillie said.
The girl—who he was relatively certain was of an age that if she’d been born into the aristocracy, would have been debuted this Season—swung around, all flirtatious manner evaporating. “I can see to him, Gillie.”
“I know, pet. But he’s here to have a word with me, and I think all your attention directed his way is likely to leave other fellows without any.”
“But I’m thinking he’d give a girl something extra to make it worth her while.”
“You’ll get the something extra. Go on now and see to the others.”
With a pout, Polly flounced away. He had to bite back his laughter. “I didn’t expect to create such a stir.”
Gillie set a tumbler of whisky in front of him. “Polly is always on the lookout for a gent to marry her.”
“I suppose I should tell her I’m spoken for.”
She angled her head thoughtfully. “Are you? Your bride’s actions would indicate you’re not.”
“Quite right.” Even if Lavinia were still willing, and with her brother’s sweetening of the dowry, he wasn’t certain he could marry her knowing she had misgivings, knowing he would no longer be content with a marriage lacking in any regard. He wanted to find her, speak with her, reassure her, but taking her to wife was unlikely, in spite of the promise he’d made his father.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow afternoon,” she said.
“I’ve been doing some thinking.” He pulled out a chair, extended his hand toward it. “Will you join me?”
With a brusque nod, she scraped back the chair opposite the one he’d indicated and dropped into it. He wasn’t certain if she wasn’t accustomed to the courtesy of a gent dragging out a chair for her or if she was striving to make the point that she wouldn’t be swayed by his charms. He took his seat. She moved the glass she’d set on the table closer to him—always the tavern keeper seeing to the comfort of her customers. “You won’t join me?”
She shook her head. “I have a good part of the night still ahead of me. I don’t want to get into a bad habit of nipping before the doors are locked.”
Some considered drinking a sin; she invited people to indulge in it, yet worried about bad habits. He didn’t know why that delighted him, but so much about her did.
“Have you decided to give up your search?” she asked.
“No, but it occurred to me that no matter how much allowance she’d saved, she would need to replenish it.” He didn’t want to think of her sleeping on the ropes or holding out her hand in hopes of a wooden token that would give her a bowl of hot soup. “This afternoon I came to realize my knowledge regarding her was quite lacking. However, I can’t see her doing needlework or teaching or”—he glanced around—“serving a gent his beer. But I do recall a recital earlier in the summer where she performed on the pianoforte and sang. She was rather talented, so it struck me, she might, quite literally, sing for her supper.”
“We don’t have a lot of opera houses in Whitechapel.”
“But there are other places where people are entertained.”
Her eyes widening, she leaned toward him. “You think she’d perform in a penny gaff?”
It had been years, a decade and a half at least, since he and his mates had sought out bawdy entertainments. He wasn’t even certain the place they’d frequented still existed or how to find it, as generally he’d been well into his cups. “If she were desperate. And I have to imagine she is since she ran off without a word. I need her to know there will be no repercussions, she can return home and we can sort this hash of a mess out like civilized people.”
“I suppose you want to look tonight.”
“If you can spare the time.”
Her gaze swept over the room. “I don’t like shirking my responsibilities.”
“I realize I’m asking a lot. I could pay—”
She snapped her head back around to glare at him. “Don’t you dare offer to give me money.”
