“Ugh. Fine.”
The privileged lord thought he had a say. “Wait, I haven’t—”
“Haven’t you? Or was your father a viable option?” Belle mocked him, not waiting for the widow to reinforce his situation.
“Right.”
“Look at it this way, Clodpate, you’ll get lots of practice begging for the next few weeks.”
Belle sat acrossfrom a snoring Clodpate in her carriage, hoping he would not wake up spewing and ruin her upholstery.
Glaring at him, she forced her anger aside to devise a strategy for handling the coming days. His drinking seemed compulsory, and based on the widow’s reference to his vowels, his gaming might be as well. She only hoped snuff and laudanum were not included in his vices. She’d seen too many courtesans end up as streetwalkers because they’d turned to those from unhappiness. Most of them had not survived. The ones who did had help, so she understood why Bessie had requested her guidance.
But why her? And why did the widow want to save this dissolute lordling out of the dozens in her establishment every night?
Deciding to have this out, she kicked him and was grateful she’d worn boots when she encountered his Hessians.
He started and snorted, sliding to a semblance of upright. “I beg your pardon. Must have dozed off.”
She rolled her eyes. The same trite phrase offered out of sheer habit rather than a genuine desire for forgiveness. “Do you recall the elements of a proper apology?”
He blinked at her, his gaze foggy with sleep and drink.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Sincerity,” he ventured.
“No.”
“You used another word, but yes, that was one.”
“Fine. Penitence. Being truly sorry.”
“Sincerity,” he repeated with a smirk.
She raised her brows, and her voice was as haughty as she could make it when she replied, “Do you feel you’re in a position to argue with me?”
“Penitence it is.” He sighed, his eyes sliding closed.
“What else?” she snapped, kicking him again.
He dragged his eyelids up. “Er... a willingness to correct it or do something to atone.”
“And?” She hid her surprise that he’d remembered those two, given his current state.
He lowered his gaze and muttered under his breath, repeating the two components he’d already listed. Grimacing, he raised his head and shrugged, the picture of helplessness.
Gritting her teeth, she growled, “Identifying the reason so you recognize it earlier the next time and ensure it does not happen again.”
“Ah. Right. Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the carriage wall, his eyes drifting shut.
“We are here.”
The carriage rolled to a halt.
Clodpate did notseem inclined to move, so Belle waited for the footman to set the step and hand her out. She swept inside her house. He could follow or not.
Damnation. She needed the Black Widow to fulfill her part of their bargain, so she had to ensure he got sober. Which meant getting him inside rather than leaving him on the street or allowing him to wander off to the nearest tavern.
