Page 44 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
Years ago? That made no sense whatsoever.
“Are you certain?” Gillie asked.
He nodded, pointed to the portrait still resting on the counter. “She’s a bit older there, but I remember the eyes, sad eyes. I can’t remember where I picked her up, but will never forget the posh house where I delivered her. Not often I get asked to go to Mayfair.”
“Well, if you happen to see her again,” Gillie said, “let me know. I’m Gillie Trewlove. You’ll find me at the Mermaid and Unicorn. And you might also tell her, if the occasion allows, I’d like to have a word. There’s a free pint in it for you.”
He grinned. “I’ve been meaning to make it to the Mermaid, but my woman considers liquor a sin.”
“Then come for a bowl of soup.”
“I might do that.”
She picked the portrait off the counter and held it out to Thorne. He merely shook his head. “Perhaps you should keep it. You seem to have more luck showing it around.”
“At least we know she’s been in the area before.”
“The question is: For what purpose?”
Chapter 13
Thorne assumed if Collinsworth or the men he’d hired had located Lavinia that the earl would send word. He needed to speak with the man who was to have become his brother-by-marriage, but all the activity from yesterday and that afternoon had his thigh and shoulder rebelling at the abuse, so he’d instructed his coachman to return to Coventry House. While he could push through the discomfort, he saw no need at the moment and thought a bit of rest would do him some good. The earl had already admitted he hadn’t a clue regarding why his sister had gone to Whitechapel, so it was unlikely he’d have any idea regarding why she might have visited some years before. Besides, her visit then might have nothing at all to do with her going there now. Perhaps she’d simply fancied that area of London, although he couldn’t imagine why she would.
Not true. He could see the appeal. While the poverty visiting on that district didn’t attract him, a certain tavern owner most certainly did. He appreciated her frankness, which in turn caused him to be equally forthright with her. Never before had he realized he often said what was expected instead of what was actually felt. He was less guarded with her, which he found to be quite liberating.
The coach came to a halt in front of his residence and he disembarked, his leg protesting more than he’d have liked but not as much as it had three days ago. His injuries were improving; just not fast enough to suit him. Patience was not his strong suit.
Once inside, he strode to his office, grateful he didn’t pass his mother on the way as he wasn’t in the mood for her harping. He poured himself a whisky and started to head for a chair by the window when his gaze fell on the stack of correspondence on his desk. The afternoon postal delivery. He recognized the handwriting on the top envelope. Changing course, he took the chair behind his desk, set down his glass, grabbed the gold paper knife, and slit open the envelope. After taking a sip of whisky, he proceeded to take out the sheet of thin parchment nestled inside.
Dear Thorne,
I beg you to cease searching for me. I should have been more forthright in my earlier correspondence. There is another, you see, who holds my heart.
I know contracts were agreed to and signed. I know what my duty entails, but carrying it out will crush my soul. I care for you too much to burden you with a wife who would view marriage to you as a chore rather than a delight. You deserve better than I can give.
I tried to explain this to my brother, but he would not hear it. Nor would my mother who was quite insistent I carry through with my duties. I had hoped my earlier letter would dissuade you from trying to find me but I misjudged your resolve.
Please let me go. Find happiness with someone deserving of you.
Sincerest Regards,
Lavinia
Considering her words, he leaned back in his chair. She loved another. He should have felt jealousy or disappointment or betrayal. Instead he felt relief. She’d told him before she was safe, but that hadn’t been enough to dissuade him from trying to find her. He’d needed an explanation and now he had it. He was actually glad for her, glad she had someone she loved, glad she hadn’t married him when her heart had called to another. When his heart had not belonged to her. He wasn’t certain he was even capable of loving someone, that he even grasped the fundamentals of how one came to love. His parents had never shown him any affection, and as a boy, he’d been rather frightened of them, their sternness, their inability to be pleased by anything he did.
So when his father had asked him to honor the contract he’d made with the previous Earl of Collinsworth, to acquire the land that generations of dukes had yearned to possess, he’d gladly given a vow, thinking he’d please his father at last, that finally he might gain his love.
In his experience, marriages among the nobility were frigid affairs. While he’d given Lavinia baubles, he’d given her nothing of himself. That knowledge now left him feeling rather disgusted with himself. Little wonder she had not confided her doubts to him.
They had not been close. They’d both been seeing to their duty, as outlined by their fathers. He’d always admired those who upheld their responsibilities, but his respect for Lavinia had gone up a notch with her rebelliousness. He rather regretted not making the effort to know her better.
Then another thought struck him. She knew he was looking for her. How had she learned of his quest to find her? Had she observed him yesterday, searching for her? Had he seen her and not recognized her, overlooked her? Had he spoken with someone who had relayed the information to her? Perhaps she had numerous friends in the area, numerous friends along with a love. She was a woman of unfathomable mysteries—but it was no longer his place to solve them.
“I’ve had further word from your sister,” Thorne said moments after he entered the earl’s library, the butler closed the door on his way out, and Collinsworth came to his feet behind his desk. “Were you aware there is someone else for whom she holds affection?”
With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Collinsworth began pouring whisky into two tumblers. “There was a boy in her youth. Father saw to him. I thought we were done with him.” He handed Thorne a glass, took a sip. “I suppose there could be someone else.”
“Does he reside in Whitechapel?”
