Page 43 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”
“Pride, I suppose, or perhaps I feared you wouldn’t help me if you thought I was at fault, that she was indeed running from me specifically. Her letter gave no details regarding her misgivings, only that they existed. I need to know specifically why she ran, if it had to do with me in particular, something I did or said. Perhaps there is a chance we can reconcile her concerns.”
“You’d still marry her?”
The thought of doing so brought him absolutely no joy. Could he honor the vow he’d made to his father when it meant unhappiness for all concerned? “I don’t know. People in my position do not marry for love. We marry for greater gains, out of obligation, for duty.”
“I think your lot has the wrong of it. Love is the greatest gain of all.”
He offered her a small smile. “So I’ve heard. If I can’t see my way clear to marry her, at the very least, she should be able to return to the bosom of her family, knowing there will be no retribution from me. I need to find her to tell her that.”
“Right then. Let’s show her portrait around, shall we?”
Another effort in futility, as one person after another merely shrugged and stated, “I’ve never seen her.”
He refrained from asking if they were certain, because they’d surely remember a lady walking in outfitted in an elaborate wedding ensemble.
“Don’t look so discouraged,” Gillie said. “There are other missions.”
But at each they met with a similar lack of success.
After their fourth try, when they were back on the street, he said, “You’re being a jolly good sport about all this. I appreciate it.”
“Do you appreciate it enough to purchase me a sweet?” She indicated a nearby sweetshop.
He suspected she never asked anyone for anything, that she was striving to cheer him. “Absolutely.”
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d popped into a sweetshop but the aromas of chocolate and vanilla and cinnamon brought a calming to his soul, as he remembered the many times he’d snuck into the kitchen when at the family estate simply to hear the cook laugh, because there was so little joy expressed by his own parents abovestairs.
A gentleman in a brown jacket was perusing the offerings as was a lady with a little lass in tow. He wasn’t surprised Gillie was the sort of woman who knew immediately what she wanted.
“A peppermint ball, Matthew,” she announced.
Nor was he surprised she knew the man behind the counter by name. “Make it a dozen,” Thorne said.
She swung her head around, her brow furrowed. “I don’t need that many.”
“It’s not a matter of what you need, but what you deserve.”
He could see she was on the verge of arguing, but instead gave a nod and acquiesced. “I can share them with others.”
Of course she could, and he had little doubt she would. He settled for a dozen toffees, intending to eat only one and handing the remainder over to her to dispense as she pleased. She seemed to enjoy giving out little treats.
After Matthew gave them two brown bags filled with their sweets, and Thorne paid for them, she said, “Let me see the portrait.”
He removed it from his pocket and gave it to her. She set it on the glass countertop. “Matthew, have you seen this woman about?”
The sweetshop man squinted, studied it. “No, can’t say as I have.”
“I’ve seen her.”
With a startled jerk, Thorne looked past Gillie to where the man in the brown jacket on the other side of her was peering over her shoulder. “Where?” he demanded.
The man looked taken aback. “Can’t remember exactly. Gave her a ride in my cab.”
He was a hansom driver then, could have picked her up outside the church. “When was this? A week or so ago?”
He seemed surprised. “Nah, it was years ago.”
