A Love That Never Tires (Linley & Patrick #1)

Patrick smiled and crossed the room, stopping in front of her. “When you said you wanted to be alone with me, I wondered if you weren’t looking for round two.”


“What? No!” Linley shook her head. “There will be no more of that. Actually, that is exactly why I wanted to talk to you. In light of what happened earlier tonight, I think it would be best if we…well, if we didn’t do that again.”

“You mean we shouldn’t kiss?”

“I mean we shouldn’t even tempt ourselves. I believe from here on out we should remain strictly friends—no kissing, no secluded walks in gardens, no afternoon drives in your motor.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am serious, Patrick,” she said, reaching out and taking one of his hands. “You are a wonderful man and the best friend anyone could ask for…but I don’t see any reason why things should progress any further between us than they already have.”

Patrick snatched his hand away. “I can’t believe you! You have used me all this time just to get what you want, and now that you find out I don’t have any money, you pull this nonsense?”

“No! This has nothing to do with your money,” Linley argued. “This has everything to do with you and I. I am leaving in a few weeks, and you will go on with your life. You will forget that I ever existed, while I will have to remember you until the day I die!”

“That is a touch melodramatic, don’t you think?”

She glared at him and crossed her arms.

“I find it terribly ironic,” Patrick continued, “that you decide to call everything to a halt the minute you learn I don’t have the funds to support your little endeavors. And I find it even more ironic that I was warned you would do exactly this.”

Linley’s mouth dropped. “Your insinuations are insulting.”

“Then prove me wrong!”

“What do you want me to say?” she asked. “Patrick, you know we cannot be anything more than we are now. You know I’m leaving, and you know I won’t be coming back. So what use is there to pretend otherwise? I appreciate everything you have done for me these past few weeks. Really, I do. But I finally understand what everyone has been trying to tell me all along—that I am fooling myself to believe there can be anything between us.”

Linley barreled on, trying to make him understand. “You belong here, with your elegant parties and with girls like Gaynor Robeson. I live out of little more than steamer trunks. You can play at my life for a few months whenever you are bored—taking trips to Africa under a false name—but you can always come back. You can come home to your fancy clothes, and your oyster dinners, and your well-bred ladies. You can impress your friends with stories of your adventures, but you will never know what it is like to actually live them.”

“You think my life is meaningless, is that it?”

“Patrick, I—”

He waved his hand to silence her. “Don’t back down now, Linley. You’ve told me how you feel. You’ve said it plainly and simply. I am man enough to hear it, and you should be woman enough to stand behind it.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

Patrick thrust his hands into his trouser pockets wishing to God he had a cigarette, even though he hadn’t smoked since university. “At least now we know the long and the short of it. And in light of everything said in this room tonight, I have to admit you were right. It was foolish of me to kiss you. I did not think of the consequences. It was unfair, and I apologize.”

Linley nodded.

He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and held it out to her. “Best of luck on your expedition.”





CHAPTER TWENTY





Despite ending her friendship with Patrick, Linley kept her chin up that week. It was lonely around Berenice’s townhouse without his visits, but with all the preparations for the Derby, Linley hardly had time to miss him. She ran through an endless circuit of dress fittings, hat selections, itinerary confirmations, and ticket purchases. Schoville assured her it was worth the trouble just to see the horses fly past, but Linley was not convinced. And as they joined the crowd outside Epsom Downs, she was too tired to argue.

“Fine day for a race,” Schoville said, tipping the brim of his hat against the June afternoon sun.

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