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So, they were getting right to it. Fair enough. Andrew was ready to spill his woes. But first he needed another drink. He had the footman bring them both a glass before settling in.
“A lot has happened since I last saw you.”
“I’m all ears.” Lionel lifted his glass.
Andrew went into his tale about seeing Tabitha again after the concert and their encounter in the park, though he kept out the part where he ravished her under the concealment of the trees. Then he told Lionel about their time in the country, including spending the night with Tabitha.
“Since we’ve returned to London, she refuses to see me. I called on her again today and was turned away. Who turns away a duke?”
Lionel pursed his lips. “It is a mystery. Usually, your problem is getting them to go away. Now you want the woman, but she doesn’t want you. How the tables have turned.” He smirked.
Andrew narrowed his gaze at his friend. “If you are going to make light of my plight, then you can leave. I wanted your advice, not comments about my past behavior.”
“My apologies, chap. I just find it a little amusing that the one woman you want doesn’t want you.”
“That’s what puzzles me. That night we were together, she enjoyed every moment, of that I’m certain, but then the next day, she was like another person. She barely spoke to me.”
“Perhaps she’s had second thoughts? Regrets?”
Andrew sat back in the chair. “It’s possible. But I can’t get rid of this nagging suspicion that it’s something else. Her demeanor seemed to change after the Earl of Malcombe’s ball.”
Even after he had pleasured her with his mouth that day in the park, the dreamy look on her face had quickly changed to one of—what? Forlorn? Dismay? Sadness?
“I know something is going on, Lionel, but I don’t know what.”
“May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
Lionel leaned forward. “Why do you care so much for this lady? What makes her different from all the other women you’ve had a tussle with?”
At the way Lionel so flippantly described his relationship with Tabitha, he wanted to sock his friend in the face. How dare he make light of Andrew’s feelings. But then, Andrew saw the knowing smirk on his friend’s face.
Damnation!
Lionel must have remembered their last conversation, when he had been the first to point out that Andrew might be in love. The insufferable man probably wanted to gloat, knowing that he was right.
Andrew crossed his arms across his chest. “Fine. Do you want to hear me say it?”
Lionel put his hand out for Andrew to continue.
“I love her. There, are you happy?”
“Moderately so. At least you admit it.”
Yes, he did, but it didn’t help Andrew’s current predicament. “I don’t see what me being in love has to do with anything.”
“It doesn’t.” Lionel smiled. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”
Andrew let out a moan of frustration.
“But to answer your earlier question, why don’t you have someone look into the matter?”
“What do you mean?”
Lionel cocked his head. “My dear chap, who do we go to when we need things ferreted out? Tom Thorne.”
Thorne was a former Bow Street Runner who had opened his own agency when the runners had officially disbanded almost two decades earlier. He had a network of men and informants working for him throughout the city. If a person needed to know something, Thorne was the man to find it.
