Page 63 of The Duke of Pain

“No, Your Grace. When the staff rose early this morning, we found Miss Durham had left and taken her belongings. I assume it was after the house was abed. The rooms upstairs remain undisturbed. I thought you would want to see them.”

Hobson reached in his side pocket. “I found this in the parlor; it is addressed to a Mr. James Sidle in Whitechapel. She wrote it three days ago but never had it delivered.”

Gideon snatched the letter from Hobson’s gloved hand and thrust the roses toward him. Slipping the note in his pocket, he took the stairs two at a time.

He entered his room first. His bed looked to be in shambles as if someone had slept there. He stalked down the hall and kicked open the guestroom door. He pulled open the wardrobe. Nothing. The bed had not been slept in, so Olivia had been in his. Then what had possessed her to decide to leave in the middle of the night?

A stab of pain shot through his heart. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached in his pocket for the note and tore it open.

Addressed to James Sidle.

He unfolded the note and read:

James, I sit here one day after leaving, and my anger has turned to bitter disappointment. You must think me foolhardy to go off with a man I barely knew.

But I did.

I cannot explain the reasons, except I felt I had met my soul mate. We are so much alike it is frightening. I sensed in him so much that is wrong with myself.

We are broken things. Together, we make a whole being. Gideon hides behind a cold, icy mask, but I have felt his heart beat.

I was prepared to give him all I am, but he abandoned me. Dropped me at his townhouse and left for parts unknown. I am giving him until this evening to return, and if he does not, I ask that you please allow me to return to The Velvet. Please send back your reply as soon as you get this. I promise to never permit my heart to lead me astray again.

Your dearest friend,

Olivia

We are broken things.

Gideon crumpled the letter in his fist.

They were very much alike. The soul mate description did indeed fit. He had an austere upbringing, absent of love and affection, as was her past to a point, in a much different way.

Gideon smoothed the letter and read it again.

Olivia had not mailed it. Why?

Because he had returned that night?

Putting aside his hurt pride, the fact that she had slept in his bed, then left in the middle of the night made no sense whatsoever.

It was patently obvious where she went: The Velvet Vine and Tackle.

Gideon ran into the hall. “Hobson! Get me a Hansom cab! Now!”

* * *

Olivia strolled into the Ten Bells on Commercial Street. Gordon, one of the lads from The Velvet, stayed right on her heels. For one o'clock in the afternoon, the place was quite lively. She had never been here or any other pub for that matter.

The walls were adorned with blue and white floral tiling and dark wood trim. The tiled mural on the far wall was the decorative centerpiece. A weaver in his shop, plying his wares from an era long ago.

She scanned the busy pub, and Mary’s red hair caught her eye. She made her way to the table where Mary sat with four other women. They might have been the same women in the alley last night, but the darkness had made it difficult to tell.

“Well, look at you, up and about. How are you feeling, love?” Mary asked.

“Better, thank you. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Mary stood, took her elbow, and steered her toward a small table in the corner. A man walked up to them; a bar towel was tossed over his shoulders. Gordon stood off to the side, keeping watch.