She dropped a bit of heated red wax on the folded paper, pressing a pretty and nondescript seal into it. She studied the seal for a moment. It bore the outline of a rose but no initials or crest of any kind. How appropriate, she thought. It was indeed well suited to a mistress’s correspondence. The paper was engraved with the address of the house, she idly took note. No matter. She would soon cease to occupy the pretty rooms within. She would see to the missive’s delivery tonight. And then she would leave London, and all of her bad memories behind.
Crying silent tears, she went upstairs to her very feminine sleeping chamber and readied for bed, her movements slow and her heart hollow.
* * *
Patrick, accompanied by Tony and Emmy, soon arrived at Miller’s fine lodgings. Patrick rapped sharply on the man’s door and was rewarded swiftly by Miller’s opening it. The man’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Latham. What is this about?”
“Where is my wife?” Patrick demanded.
Miller looked at Tony and Emmy, a sly grin slowly dawning on his face. “Interesting circle of friends you keep, Latham. Hello, Emmy. It has been too long since I’ve enjoyed your ample charms.”
Tony shot a dark look in Miller’s direction.
“Never mind, Miller,” Patrick growled. “Where is Victoria?”
“I assure you, I have no idea.”
“You saw to her release,” Tony said. “Do you deny that?”
“Why would I?” Miller said with a shrug. “I was mistaken in my assertions of her guilt, and her detainment was an unfortunate circumstance I was more than happy to see rectified.”
“Where did you take her, you bastard?” Patrick demanded to know.
“I took her nowhere,” Miller replied. “Perhaps the pretty young man who personally saw to her freedom would be able to assist you.”
Patrick knew without a doubt to whom Miller was alluding. Paul, that bloody bastard who’d broken Tory’s heart in Cornwall.
“That whelp,” he muttered.
“Yes, indeed. The young man seemed very eager to set her free.”
“But you were interrogated by the magistrate,” Patrick said. “I have the letter he signed declaring her innocent. How the hell did Paul set her free?”
Miller wore a sly smile. “Funny thing about official documents, Latham. With the right amount of coin, you can get your hands on pretty much anything.”
“Why would you go out of your way like that for him and not for yourself?” Patrick had to know.
“I’d come across the dandy outside of Elliot’s on one fortuitous occasion, and the two of us struck a bargain.” He was grinning now. “Seems the fop’s wife has more money than God. He paid me very well for my efforts to see to that poor, innocent, young lady’s freedom.”
Patrick growled as he launched himself at Miller. He grabbed the lapels of his jacket and flung him against the wall. Tony pulled him back before he could do any damage.
“Where did he take her?” Patrick growled again.
“I have no idea,” Miller returned with a huff, straightening his jacket.
Patrick grunted in frustration, shook off his friend’s hold and turned to leave. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to his friends. “Before I do something I won’t regret.”
“Perhaps the little songbird knows the location of the dandy’s rooms,” Miller offered in a parting insult. “She’s quite knowledgeable in such matters.”
Emmy gasped at the man’s words.
Tony swung around and smashed his fist into Miller’s face, leaving him to crumple onto the floor.
“You don’t know when to shut your mouth,” Tony spat.
Tony gently took Emmy’s arm and the two of them joined Patrick, who gave his good friend a nod of satisfaction.
CHAPTER 25
Tony’s carriage stopped before Patrick’s lodgings. The trio was silent within the vehicle as long minutes passed. Patrick was lost in his own thoughts, his mind refusing to believe that Tory was with that dandy. She’d told him that she’d been mistaken in her feelings for Paul. Did that still hold true? Or had Patrick’s apparent desertion turned her heart once more toward her young love?
“I’m sorry, Latham,” Tony said at last.
Patrick’s head shot up. “I’ll win her back, Tony. I don’t know how precisely, but I’ll find her and win her back.”
“Perhaps an investigator can locate her,” Tony said. “I’ve heard of a man of title working as one not far from town. Up in Homerton.”
“His name is Blake Thompson,” Emmy said.
Both men looked at her with surprise.
“I know his older brother. They are good men and have helped a friend of mine in the past.”
“Yes, that is a good idea. I’ll head out first thing tomorrow morning,” Patrick returned.
“We’ll go with you,” Tony said with a nod.
Emmy offered Patrick an encouraging smile and leaned toward him to drop a kiss on his cheek.
“Pray, don’t lose hope, Latham,” she gently chided.
Patrick nodded, thanking them both.
He opened the door to the carriage and stepped out. Entering his lodgings, his shoulders slumped, he wondered how he could go back to his rooms and see all of Tory’s things without falling into despair.
“Oh, Mr. Latham!” a servant in the parlor called out.
Patrick turned in the man’s direction. “Yes?” he asked without much interest.
“A message has just arrived for you, Mr. Latham.”
It was addressed to him in a feminine hand. Was it from Susan? Strange, he thought as he turned over the letter and saw that it was not his father’s seal. He broke through the spot of wax, and his breath caught in his throat when he realized it was from Tory. But the words caused his heart to clench. She wanted him to consider himself free from their marriage vows? Never. She gave him her gratitude? “Her gratitude?” he muttered.
He would have more than her bloody gratitude! He turned the thin sheet over in his hands, surprised to see an address engraved in the fine ivory paper. He stuffed the note into his pocket and called for his carriage.
* * *
Tory settled into the soft pillow, her mind filled with Patrick. She’d thought that delivering the note to his lodgings would lift a burden from her shoulders, but she’d been woefully mistaken. Her errand had only served to highlight the dismal fact that she would never again see her beloved husband, for in her heart she knew that he would always be so to her. Would he forget her as easily as he’d set her from his life? No matter. She’d given him his freedom in that letter and tomorrow she would take her own.
She soon fell into a fitful slumber, her mind’s endless circling continuing unabated. In her dreams, she was once more wrapped in Patrick’s arms, his hands lovingly caressing her curves. Giving into the incredible comfort and passion she knew in her heart that he offered she turned, smiling, and cuddled into the warm body pressed to hers.
“Patrick,” she whispered, reaching her arms up toward him.
The curse that met her ears brought her swiftly out of her clouded fantasies. She opened her eyes to find Paul poised above her, his face dark with anger. She stared up at him in stunned silence.
“It’s not your false husband, my love,” Paul ground out. “’Tis I, your protector. Your lover.”
“Paul,” Tory murmured in disbelief.
He smiled down at her—that strange, false smile of his—and she shrank from him, seeking to bury herself in the soft bedding. Paul laughed softly and held her closer. He brought his face to hers despite her attempt to separate them, his brow touching hers.
“Ah, I’d thought to wait until tomorrow night, Victoria.” His lips ran over her cheek. “But the prospect of another night spent in my lonely bed put other, far more delicious notions into my mind.”
Tory pulled away from him, cringing as his tongue slowly stroked her neck. “Paul,” she began, shaking her head, “don’t do this. I . . . I ca
n’t do this.”
Paul held himself above her, his brow furrowed. “I paid for your release,” he pouted. “At the very least you owe me payment for that.”
She gasped in outrage. “Paid for my release?” she spat. “With your wife’s money?” She sneered. “You have no right to me,” she said defiantly. “You and Miller and that jailer. You’re all the same. You only seek to use women for your own ends.”
His face turned pale at her words.
“You’re the criminal,” she went on. “You prey upon women for your disgusting desires.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth and she nearly gagged. She tore her mouth from his.
“Stop this, Paul!” she cried.
She delivered a slap to his cheek that caused her palm to sting. Paul gaped at her in a comical look of surprise before his former look of pique reappeared.
“This isn’t how I envisioned our first night together,” he muttered, rubbing the red mark on his face.
Tory held the sheets to her bosom, staring wordlessly at him. Paul raised his hand and she braced herself for the worst. He pulled the fabric out of her hands and ran his eyes slowly over her. Sparing one hesitant glance at his face, Tory knew without question that the nightgown she wore hid little from his gaze. Lust burned in his blue eyes.
“Your lovely charms are far more lush than I remembered,” he observed, tweaking her breast.
Tory flinched at the contact, earning herself another dark look.
“You belong to me now,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll have the favors I’ve bought and paid for.”
“You won’t take me, Paul,” she said, her voice firm with conviction. “I’ll fight you with every breath I have in my body.”
Paul merely grinned. Tory steeled herself for a struggle, for she wouldn’t willingly give herself to this man any more than she would the jailer.
* * *
Patrick arrived at the address on the missive and stepped down from the carriage before it had come to a complete stop. He glanced down the thoroughfare. The street was lined with many small, well-kept residences, no doubt housing pretty, well-kept women. The location was convenient to several wealthier parts of the city, and he assumed that many gentlemen with and without titles kept their women here to see to needs that their wives either wouldn’t or couldn’t fulfill.
Several carriages were parked along the street, their occupants engaged in activities far different than those to which they would admit. Anger surged through him to think of Tory residing in such a situation. He knew in his bones that she wouldn’t give herself willingly to a man for the protection he offered. Even if she thought Patrick had abandoned her. It wasn’t in her nature.
He approached the tiny yellow and white house, so well-suited for clandestine trysts, and pounded on the door. A little maid opened the door, her brown eyes round.
“Y-yes, sir?” the maid stammered, dropping a shaky curtsy.
“I need to see your mistress,” Patrick demanded, stepping into the house.
“S-she’s not receiving visitors,” the girl said nervously as she closed the door.
Patrick looked about the tidy house, noting the fine furnishings and feminine touches. How long has this house been in wait for its present occupant? How many other women had resided here, always to wait for their benefactor’s kindness and passions? He turned back to the little maid.
“Where is she?” he asked.
The girl twisted her white apron in her hands, her eyes darting toward the narrow staircase. He followed her gaze and nodded firmly. He stepped toward the stairs.
“She’s not alone,” she stated in a small voice.
The words stopped him cold. Dread curled in his belly as he envisioned his beloved wife, his Tory, in the arms of the pretty dandy.
“No,” he rasped. “It can’t be.”
A muffled cry was heard from above and Patrick turned toward the sound. That didn’t resemble the sound of a willing mistress. The cry came again.
“Leave me alone, Paul!” he heard Tory scream.
Ignoring the maid’s gasp of outrage, Patrick took the steps two at a time. He easily found the pretty chamber holding his wife and opened the door. Paul was within the chamber, he saw, wrestling on the bed with a nearly naked Tory.
“Take your hands off my wife!”
Paul stopped his struggles with Tory and turned a look of surprise in Patrick’s direction. Patrick stepped toward the bed and easily plucked the dandy off of her, throwing him to the floor without another care. He turned toward the bed, quickly assessing Tory’s condition. Her bedclothes were undamaged and he could glimpse no visible injuries to her ivory skin. But her hair was in a tangle and her face flushed from her struggles. He caressed her cheek, and saw a sudden look of fear in her eyes.
“Patrick, look out!” Tory cried.
Patrick turned and saw Paul had a candlestick in his hand, ready to strike. He shifted to the right, kicked out with his left foot and toppled Paul to the floor. Grabbing the bastard around the neck, he brought his face close to Paul’s.
“Never put your hands on my wife again,” he said, pounding his fist into the man’s perfect face.
He dropped Paul on his backside and went back to Tory, wrapping her in his arms. Holding her felt like coming home.
“God, love,” he said, crushing her to him. “How I’ve missed you.”
Tory sobbed, burying her face against his chest. “Oh, Patrick,” she whispered brokenly, her tears soaking his shirt.
He rocked her gently, smoothing his fingers through her glossy curls.
“She’s my mistress!” Paul insisted, drawing Patrick’s attention for the last time.
Patrick studied the boy where he stood again, seeing the indignation twisting his face. There was nothing for it.
Sighing, he set Tory from him and stood. He towered over the dandy, staring him down with a glare to rival his father’s.
“I’ll repay your kindness,” Patrick spat. “Send the bill to my rooms, but Victoria is no longer your concern.” The young man opened his mouth to protest and Patrick held up his hand to silence him. “If you so much as attempt to contact my wife again, I’ll make you very sorry you were ever born. I daresay your wealthy wife won’t miss you.”
Paul gulped and gave Patrick a shaky nod. Without a glance in Tory’s direction, he grabbed up his jacket and bolted from the room.
Patrick turned his attention to his beloved wife sitting on the white iron bed. She was trembling beneath the folds of sheets. He sat beside her on the bed once more.
“Are you truly all right, love?” he asked her, brushing her auburn curls away from her face.
“Do you think Paul will stay away?”
“He will if he knows what’s good for him.”
She nodded, tears filling her eyes. “I-I told you to leave that day when you came to me,” she said thickly. “I told you to leave and never come back.”
He caressed her beloved face.
“I did stay away, because I knew that I’d hurt you.” He blew out a breath. “I knew that you were angry, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t bear it. Please, forgive me. Please, believe me—I was trying my damnedest to see you released.”
Her eyes were so full of pain and hurt. All he wanted was to erase her sorrow. He knew it would take time, but he would devote his life to doing so.
“There was n-no more garnish, Patrick,” she choked out. “Y-You stopped p-paying for me . . . And that jailer was going to-to . . .” She shook her head, tears coursing down her cheeks.
Pain seared his heart and he blinked back his own tears. He reached out and tenderly wiped the wetness from her face. “I’m so very sorry, Tory.” His voice broke, as he continued. “Please believe me. I gave money to a servant to take to Millbank, but it never got there. God, when I think of what might have happened to you . . .” He shuddered and wrapped his arms around her. “I went to Millbank just this afternoon
to see you set free,” he went on. “The magistrate has set aside the charges against you.”
“How?” She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes wide.
“Miller was interrogated and cleared you. What the magistrate didn’t know was that Miller had falsified papers on Paul’s behalf, and that is how Paul was able to have you released before I got there. I had the official letter with me. You would have been free Tory, even if Paul hadn’t interfered.”
“That bastard.” Her hands covered her mouth in shock. “What a hateful man,” she said as she lowered her hands to her lap. “Both of them should rot in Hell.”
Her eyes were full of rage.
She was magnificent.
“But how did you manage to get a letter from the magistrate?”
“My father saw to it,” he replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Your father?” she asked in amazement. “But you’ve never spoken of him . . .” Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, no,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “What must your father think of me?”
“Shh,” he soothed. “You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, Tory. And when I went to my father he was only too happy to take up your cause.”
She lowered her hands to fist them in her lap. “Why did you never tell me? About your family? Your title?” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I had no idea who you truly were. It broke m-my heart.” Her tears began again and it tore him in two.
“I’m so sorry my love.” He pulled her back into his embrace. “So very sorry for everything I put you through.” He couldn’t stop his own tears now as he desperately hoped for her forgiveness.
“Tell me why,” she whispered into his ear.
He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, and saw his own soul reflected back in them.
She reached out and caressed his face.
“I was a damn fool,” he admitted. “I couldn’t accept my father marrying so soon after my mother died, let alone his choice of a bride.”
“Lady Stafford,” she said.
That Determined Mister Latham Page 26
