Sans Regret

by Alice Gaynes

  He didn’t answer. What could he say to a woman who’d given her body to him? He stood there, smiling at her like an idiot.

  She moved toward him again but he held her away.

  Her face fell. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I wish you all the best.”

  “And I you.” She stiffened and smiled. A polite expression that had nothing to do with happiness. “You’re very dear to me too, James.”

  With that, a door closed between them. Thank heaven. Things could have come out worse with tears and anger. Even a declaration of love. She didn’t deserve to be hurt. He’d caused her pain but perhaps not too much.

  “I came to ask a favor,” he said.

  “Of course. Whatever I can do.”

  “There’s a place in the country. And old abbey. It’s recalled Sans Regret.”

  She blanched, the color draining from her skin. Without saying a word, she walked to a chair and sank onto the seat.

  “I need to know where it is,” he said.

  “I don’t know why you’d ask me.”

  “You’ve been there.”

  She didn’t answer but just sat, staring into the empty fireplace. Her jaw clenched but otherwise, she made no movement.

  “I saw you there,” he said quietly.

  “That was your voice,” she whispered. “I thought I’d imagined it.”

  “I’m sorry Margaret. What happened to you was entirely my fault.”

  Fault may have been too strong a word. He hadn’t led her to Sans Regret and he hadn’t given her that wine. But, she’d found herself in that position because she’d gone looking for him. Maybe she’d feel better if she could blame someone else.

  “Well.” The insincere smile returned to her face. “It was quite an adventure. I’d always wanted to go to Sans Regret when the old earl was alive. I missed the grand parties, but I had a taste of the place.”

  Bless her. A weaker woman might try weeping to win him back. Or, she might try gouging at his eyes. At least a slap. He deserved more than that. She’d end their affair with dignity. She really was quite dear.

  “Please tell me how to find the place,” he said.

  “Why would you want to go back?”

  “I left something there. Something very valuable.” He’d left his heart. The woman he loved no matter how insane that idea might be. For weeks, he’d tried to get over wanting her. Craving her with every inch of his body. Useless. He had to find her.

  “There’s a little town named Holton a few hours ride to the north. Ask at the inn. The landlord can find someone to take you to the abbey.”

  He walked to her, bent and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

  She took a sharp, inward breath and her chin trembled for just a moment before her face settled back into its smile. “Let yourself out, will you? I suddenly have the most frightful headache.”

  Without saying another word, he turned and left the room.

  * * * * *

  “There she is your lordship,” Randall, the town butcher, said. “But, tain’t nobody home.”

  Wortham stood beside his carriage, staring up at an iron gate set in high, stone walls. The same wall he’d encountered while trying to escape from Sans Regret that night. He had indeed found the place again. But he wasn’t going to take the butcher’s word that Caroline had left. He’d see that for himself.

  “Open the gate,” he said. “I want to see the house.”

  “I brought you here like I said I would. I don’t rightly think I can do no more than that.”

  He looked down at the man. “I told you I wanted to see Sans Regret, not the walls that surround it.”

  Randall rubbed the back of his neck. “Lady Oakhurst wouldn’t like that.”

  “You said she wasn’t here.”

  “She ain’t but she left some men to keep the dogs.”

  Wortham crossed his arms over his chest. “You said some lads from the town maintain the gardens.”

  “That they do but they’s got her permission for that.”

  “Then call one of the guards and tell him you’ve come to do some work.”

  The man glanced at the gate and then up at Wortham. He stood, clearly waiting for something.

  Of course. Wortham reached into his pocket and found a half crown. When he gave it to the fellow, the man smiled, walked to the gate and stuck his head between the bars. “Hallo! Inside there.”

  A few moments passed before another man appeared on the other side of the gate. In his hand, he held a short leashed attached to the collar of a huge hound. The dog might have been the same beast that had almost throttled him.

  The guard looked at the two of them. “What’s all this then?”

  “His lordship here’s come to look around,” Randall said. “To see if we’re keeping the place up right.”

  The man eyed them and the carriage with some suspicion. “Lady Oakhurst didn’t mention that to me.”

  “She couldn’t do that, could she, seeing as she ain’t here,” Randall answered.

  “Randall, you know right and good you bring people here without permission,” the man said. “And I know right and good money changes hands every time you do.”

  “There’s no harm in that.” Randall turned to Wortham. “Is there, your lordship?”

  Ye gods. How many more palms would he have to grease to get into Sans Regret. He found another half crown, walked to the gate and handed it to the guard. The dog snarled at him as he did but his keeper held him firm.

  “Now then may I come inside?” he asked.

  “Right away, my lord.” The guard produced a key and unlocked the gate. Obviously well maintained, it swung open without a sound. Wortham got into his carriage. Before he could close the door, Randall climbed in after him. He glared at the man.

  “Got to see you find the house all right, don’t I, your lordship?”

  “Oh very well.”

  Randall closed the door behind him and the driver guided the horses up a long drive toward the abbey.

  He very likely wouldn’t find Caroline here or Randall would never take him up to the house. If she wanted to lose him, she wouldn’t stay where he could find her. Still she might have left some clue to where she’d gone. Even the state of the house would tell him if she planned to return anytime soon.

  Oh hell, even if this adventure got him no closer to her hiding place, he still needed to come to the last place he’d seen her. He wouldn’t go into that underground room again though. Too many memories there. How he’d waited, naked, for her to come back. How Abby had appeared instead, with Caroline’s brother right behind her. The sense of betrayal as they’d held the cloth with ether over his face again. The knowledge in the few seconds before he’d lost consciousness that the woman he loved would send him away.

  She hadn’t even done it herself. She hadn’t looked him in the eye, hadn’t had the decency to tell him to his face that she didn’t love him in return.

  Didn’t love him. How that hurt. He leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

  “See here, your lordship,” Randall said. “Are you all right?”

  He opened his eyes again. “How much longer.”

  “We’re nearly there.”

  Wortham stuck his head out of the window to find Sans Regret no more than a few yards away. The gray stones, windows high up in the walls, the arched doorway.

  “Go round to the back of the house,” he called to his driver.

  Tim nodded and guided the horses around the side of the house to the rear. They stopped at the kitchen entrance and Wortham got out.

  The local people had seen after things well enough. The herb garden was neat and free of weeds. Squashes grew fat on their vines. Caroline’s private woods stood in the distance. If he looked hard enough, he could almost picture her emerging from the shade of the trees, waving at him.

  Sentimental fool. He turned to Randall. “I want to go inside.”

>   “I can’t do that, sir. It’s all locked up.”

  Wortham walked to the kitchen window and looked in. Everything was in order, with no sign of activity. The other rooms would tell him more.

  “Get the fellow with the dog up here,” he said. “He’ll know where there’s a key.”

  “Be reasonable, your lordship. Ain’t no one going to let you in there against the lady’s wishes.”

  “Then I’ll have to do it myself.” He found a rock beneath the window and used it to smash a hole in the glass.

  “Now see here…” Randall said.

  Wortham ignored him, inserted his hand carefully through the hole and opened the latch. With the window now open, he hoisted himself onto the sill and swung his legs through. Finally he stood in the empty kitchen.

  Quite a bit of dust had accumulated. She must have left right after having him taken away. He walked into the dining room to find everything covered with sheets. The chairs sat upended on the table. With the fabric over them the whole thing looked like a huge tent. Even the paintings on the walls had been covered. The sitting room looked much the same—protected from dust and deserted. In the empty front hall, his footsteps echoed off the walls. He headed for the stairway.

  “There he is,” Randall called from behind him.

  Something growled—that ghastly dog. He turned to find Randall, the dog and its handler.

  “You broke the window,” the handler said.

  “Get it repaired.”

  “I’ll have to ask you to leave sir.” The request was polite enough but the man’s hand hovered over the dog’s collar. Clearly he meant to set the beast loose if Wortham didn’t cooperate.

  He stood his ground, glaring at the man. “Where did Lady Oakhurst go?”

  “I don’t know, my lord.”

  “You must hear from her. Someone has to pay you.”

  “Her solicitor does.” The hand at the dog’s collar didn’t move.

  “Who’s her solicitor?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” the man said. “You must leave.”

  “Either tell me or I go upstairs. If you set that hound on me, it’ll be the worse for you.”

  “For me?”

  “My people will come looking for me.” That was a lie of course. No one knew where he’d gone but the fellow couldn’t know that. “And you’ve already accepted a bribe to let me onto the property.”

  The man’s eyes widened and he moved his hand from the collar.

  “Out with it. Who’s her solicitor?”

  “A Mr. Wheeler from London. That’s all I know. I swear it.”

  Well then back to London to find this Mr. Wheeler.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The butler scrutinized every detail of Wortham’s invitation. Well he might. Invitations to this sort of soiree only went out to a select few. He’d only managed to get one by dropping hints in the right ears that he’d visited Sans Regret. Just the name—Sans Regret—had served as a sort of “open sesame” for one of his confidants finally. The invitation had arrived a week later.

  An orgy in one of the best houses on the park. Oakhurst would be proud. Or jealous.

  The butler took his hat and cape—and the invitation—then retreated. Wortham checked his reflection in a mirror over a small table. On the outside, he appeared the very image of upper-class respectability. His suit was perfectly pressed, his shirt a startling white. His barber had shaved him an hour before and given his hair the latest cut. What a difference from the man who’d let his hair grow at Sans Regret and had had to shave and dress himself. Still that man had been happily in love, at least until the cloth with ether had gone over his mouth.

  A man appeared at the top of the staircase that led to the main part of the house. His host, Samuel Clarendon, the sixth Earl of Dobshire.

  “Wortham, so good to see you. Do come up.”

  Wortham climbed the stairs and shook Dobshire’s hand. “Kind of you to have me.”

  “Nonsense. We’d have done so long ago if we’d known.” The man gave him a wicked smile. “You can’t be too careful, eh?”

  “Not with this Queen.”

  Dobshire laughed. He was a slight man in his late forties or so. His slicked, blond hair gave off the distinct scent of Macassar oil but his smile seemed sincere enough. Could this man have been one of Caroline’s tormentors during Oakhurst’s reign at Sans Regret? He’d find out soon enough but he hadn’t come to take revenge. He had other purposes.

  The solicitor, Wheeler, had told him nothing. His only hope now of finding Caroline lay in getting to know Oakhurst’s friends. They might provide information about other properties Oakhurst had owned.

  “Come meet my wife,” Dobshire said. “I don’t think she’s had the pleasure.”

  “Nor I. I’m sure I wouldn’t have forgotten her.”

  Dobshire led him to a pleasant sitting room. When they entered, the sole occupant, a woman, rose from her seat. She was a pretty thing, plump with dark hair piled on top of her head in curls. Her clothing fitted her tightly enough to show off her curves and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a corset.

  She offered him her hand. “Lord Wortham.”

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back. In this position, he had an excellent view of her ample breasts. “Lady Dobshire.”

  “You understand we like to interview our guests on their first visit to one of our…uh…gatherings,” Dobshire said.

  “Wise of you.”

  Dobshire gestured toward the settee as he took a side seat. Wortham sat and the lady joined him. In fact she sat nearly on top of him.

  Dobshire crossed his legs. “So you’ve been to Sans Regret.”

  “Once, and you?”

  “A few times.”

  Lady Dobshire leaned toward him and rested a hand on his knee. “My husband and I are very open-minded.”

  And open with her affections too. He said nothing but smiled at her. She must have seen that as encouragement, as her hand moved upward along the inside of his thigh. His cock had gone for a long time without satisfaction. She might just get his attention.

  Dobshire looked on as his wife’s fingers approached Wortham’s crotch. Not at all alarmed, the man seemed to enjoy the spectacle, smiling the whole time.

  “We’ve educated ourselves in the sensual arts,” Dobshire said. “The Pearl, The Kama Sutra, that sort of thing.”

  “At first we only enjoyed each other,” Lady Dobshire added, as her fingers moved another inch or two. “Then we decided to try more adventures.”

  “Your parties were born,” Wortham said.

  “We’re up to a few dozen participants now,” Dobshire said. “You’ll meet most of them tonight.”

  “When will they arrive?”

  Dobshire laughed. “They’re already here. They started a while ago.”

  “But I don’t hear anything.” He hadn’t either. For all he would have guessed, the three of them were alone here with the servants.

  “We have a special room, draped all around to block out sound.” The lady’s hand completed its journey, landing firmly on his cock. Despite himself, it responded, growing hard in his pants.

  He’d come here looking for people who’d met Oakhurst and might know where he held property. Most likely, Caroline had gone to one of his houses. The secretive old bastard might have had hidden lairs all over the kingdom.

  In the meantime, Lady Dobshire’s hand felt insanely good on his poor rod. He might give in and enjoy himself tonight. It had been so damn long since the underground room at Sans Regret. He didn’t want Dobshire’s wife—didn’t want anyone but Caroline—but his flesh had a way of making its needs known.

  Dobshire sat and watched while his wife toyed with Wortham’s erection. The man had to know what state she’d put him in. Dobshire ought to be able to see the outline of his cock under the fabric of his pants. The man’s expression remained a bland smile, although a twinkle in his eye suggested he might like to have a go at Wortham hi
mself. Perhaps the two of them had some thought of a private threesome. Wortham hadn’t come here for that.

  He set Lady Dobshire’s hand aside. “You’ve been to Sans Regret too?”

  A definite gleam of interest appeared in her eyes. “We both had the privilege of attending a few parties before the earl’s death. When he died, we decided to continue with our own parties.”

  “I gather, then, that your guests are people you met at Sans Regret.”

  “Many of them,” Dobshire said. “Others I’ve added since. Such as you.”

  Lady Dobshire leaned into him until her breasts rubbed against his arm. “You have quite a reputation, you naught boy.”

  “Louise became quite excited when we received your inquiry.”

  She seemed quite excited now, as her nipples hardened under her bodice and a flush of arousal colored her chest and neck.

  “Must we sit here and talk?” she asked. “I’d like to toss Lord Wortham onto some cushions and have my way with him.”

  “I think you should share,” Dobshire said.

  She pouted and very prettily. “Spoilsport.”

  Dobshire rose. “Come. Let’s join the others.”

  Lady Dobshire took Wortham’s arm as the two of them got to their feet. Dobshire led them out of the room and down the hallway to a door. When he opened it, Wortham crossed over and found himself in a large hall. Most likely, the dining room.

  The sounds of laughter, moans and lusty cries filled the room. When his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Wortham could make out bodies in various states of dress and undress. Lady Dobshire had said that they’d muffled the sounds with curtains and sure enough, tapestries and drapes of all kinds covered the walls and windows. No one outside would guess at what sort of party went on inside. Couches stood here and there, mostly occupied by bodies. Cushions lay all over the floor. One was large enough to hold two men and a woman in a sort of daisy chain of oral sex. Quite satisfying from the look on their faces. Lady Dobshire reached behind herself and started unfastening the hooks that held her dress together. “Shall we?”

  Put so bluntly, her invitation didn’t hold the appeal of a seduction. The whole scene looked like something from a fevered dream. Perhaps at one time, he would have enjoyed all this and perhaps not. He hadn’t come for enjoyment but for information.