Page 31 of The Thorn and the Rose

Thorn gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, if you put it that way, I should jolly well think so. The servants at Dern have a grand time.”

“I know, sir,” Smithers replied with a grin. “A splendid dinner and dancing, too. The best Christmases I’ve had have been at Dern. And last we were there, I happened to notice there’s a very nice young lady what works in the kitchens too. She’s new, and—”

“Say no more,” Thorn said, chuckling now. “Never let it be said I stood in the way of true love. I command you to attend me at Christmas, Smithers, and spoiled brat that I am, I won’t hear any excuses of any kind.”

Smithers’ eyes twinkled appreciatively. “Thank you, sir. And me mum and Aunt Maud will have a fine time without me, don’t you fret. I’ve left them a bottle of sherry, so they’ll be pie-eyed and putting the world to rights long before teatime.”

Thorn gave a bark of laughter at this information and shrugged on his coat, turning in surprise as he heard a knock on the front door of his apartment, which comprised the first floor of a handsome building on Primrose Hill.

Smithers hurried out to answer it as Thorn went to the door of his bedroom, looking out.

“What is it?” he called as Smithers closed the door.

“A letter, sir, forwarded from the club by the looks of things.”

Thorn’s heart underwent a strange, pitching sensation, as if it had just turned a somersault. He told himself sternly to pack it in. He’d hoped for weeks that she would contact him again, but there had been no word and it had left him feeling like a fool. Since then, he’d had plenty of time to think, and he’d had no choice but to agree with his brother and his parents. Marie had played her part in that strange affair. Perhaps she had not known his food had been drugged, but she knew he had been purposely beaten and was being hidden from his family. As much as he hoped her brother had forced her to comply, he did not know that. If he was her brother. Perhaps it was her husband, or her lover. Either way, he’d be a fool to get himself involved with her. She had drugged him and held him hostage, albeit it a gentle kind of incarceration. Marie was likely a criminal and up to her neck in trouble of her own making. That was an end to it. He had taken pains to erase her from his mind, returning to his old ways and turning his face from the dangers such a life courted. He had finally selected his next mistress, a sophisticated woman of refined and very expensive tastes, but she made him laugh and was an entertaining companion. She knew the way of the world too and would not make demands of him he could not or would not meet.

And just as his life was returning to normal, here was bloody Marie, stirring it all up again.

Smithers regarded him, letter in hand, his face darkening. “You ain’t still hoping for word from that wicked girl?”

“That’s enough, Smithers,” Thorn said, his tone harsher than he was used to employ with Smithers, who was allowed a good deal of familiarity. “Give me the damned thing.”

Thorn took the letter from his valet and tore it open.

Dear Mr Barry,

I swore to myself that I would not contact you again, that I would not trouble you or give you cause to remember me. Perhaps you do not remember. It would be for the best if you had forgotten me, and yet I am selfish enough to pray you have not, that perhaps you have spared me a thought now and then and wished me well despite the trouble I caused you. I have thought of you often, and prayed for your health and happiness, and for my own.

Happiness seems to be a distant dream this year, and with Christmas approaching, every obstacle seems doubled in size, every burden heavier to bear.

Please, sir, I know I have no claim on you, no right to ask for your assistance, but I am in desperate straits. My brother has been gone for weeks and I have no money. I have pawned everything I own and have so little left, it terrifies me. The only thing remaining is my pride, and I must put this aside or embrace a fate that will sink me beyond redemption.

Mr Barry, I beg you will help me before I am entirely undone. I will be at the Broad Walk in Regent’s Park at four pm today. I will understand if you cannot or will not come, but I will pray that you are kind enough to come to me in my time of need.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed violently, raking a hand through his hair.

“What is it now?” Smithers asked.

Thorn sent him a look that suggested he mind his own business, which Smithers blithely ignored.

“Well? Is it from her?”

“Yes,” Thorn replied, reading the letter with growing disquiet.

“I knew it,” Smithers muttered grimly, folding his arms.

Thorn took out his pocket watch, which showed quarter past three. There was plenty of time to get to the park. Surreptitiously, Thorn checked how much money he had on him. Certainly, enough to see her through the coming weeks. Supposing she really was in trouble, and that it wasn’t a trap.

“Take the luggage and go to the station as planned,” he ordered Smithers. “I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re not thinking of going to meet her? Alone?” Smithers objected. “Not when it’s likely she’ll not there at all, but instead a half dozen thugs waiting to beat your brains in again.”

“No, Smithers, I shan’t go alone,” Thorn retorted, pulling on his overcoat and grabbing his hat. “Don’t fret so. I shall see you at the station but if I’m late, you go on. I’ll get the next train and see you at Dern.”

Smithers pursed his lips, clearly displeased with this arrangement but the look Thorn gave him was enough to still his tongue, for now at least. If he turned out to be right, Thorn would never hear the end of it, supposing he was still around to hear anything at all.

He hurried down the stairs and out of the front door. About a ten-minute walk from his home, facing on to Regent’s Square, was Leo’s house. Thorn ran up the steps and hammered on the door, which was promptly opened by Leo’s man, Cummings.