“Wed?” he asked, surprised.
All he’d known about her was thatshewas a wealthycitwho had been widowed. And that she’d requested “male comfort” for a time. Comfort which he’d happily provided in exchange for a few hours of blessed oblivion.
“Why shouldn’t she wed? Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Did everyone deserve a second chance?
His mother had attempted to create a new life. She had for a time, if the letters she’d sent him had been any indication. The letters the Black Widow had tried to deliver but that he’d refused to read.
He ran his hand through his hair—the gesture that stifled unwelcome memories.
“The Skylark is happy, Redver. Take this opportunity. Change. Attend to your duty and your own happiness.”
Happiness. He snorted. His family’s public scandal had been bad. Their secrets were even worse. The best he could hope for was relief.
At least now the brandy was settling into his stomach. His muscles had unspooled a bit, and the creeping sensation had begun to recede. But, if he was not soon otherwise occupied, full-blown attack could return at any moment.
“Distraction,” he said firmly. “Find me another woman. Another exclusive arrangement. I know you can.”
“I can, yes. Should is an entirely different story. I’m starting to believe these assignations are not helping you but prolonging your misery. Even if an impersonal lover is the only thing capable of bringing you relief, do you really want to impose your hideous rules on another, anonymous lover?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because you’re not getting any better.” She threw up her hands. “Would you at least agree to try the tisane some of the wolf pack uses?”
“Bessie.”
“Very well, stick to your own methods.” She shook her head and looked away. “I anticipated that you would resist my efforts to intercede, and I have, in fact, arranged for someone else to meet with you. She has already agreed to the same terms you set for the Skylark. She will be blindfolded so she cannot identify you.”
He could have kissed her. Or shaken her. “And what does she expect of me?”
“She mentioned a preference for vigor.”
“Why the devil didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“Go, Redver.” The veil whispered as she leaned down over her desk. “She awaits you upstairs. Third floor. Second room on the right. The usual room for the usual price.”
He turned toward the door, paused in the process of opening the latch, then, swiveled back. “And the name I am to know her by?”
“Have her choose. Lord knows she has asked for little enough.”
Little enough? How insulting.
He stepped into the anteroom and then yanked the door closed behind him.
This new woman, like the others before her, would receive every carnal pleasure he knew how to deliver—what more could she wish for?
