Chapter 10
“What has come over you?”
Adrian stopped pacing in his study and looked over at Damien.
He was standing by the drink cart, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, paused mid-pour into two tumblers.
Adrian had not been at all surprised to find Damien waiting for him in his study when he arrived home.
They usually handled the investigations together.
Tonight was the first time Adrian had gone out alone.
Adrian opened his mouth, then shut it. He urged his mind to focus on a single thought, but it seemed impossible.
“I met the Earl of Winslow’s wife,” he finally stated.
Damien chortled as he resumed the pouring of their whiskey.
“God, I cannot imagine what that was like,” he said sarcastically. “I suspect she was as awful as the Earl himself?”
“That is the thing,” Adrian said, accepting the glass of whiskey. “She is not. In fact, I have never seen such a pairing of opposites.”
Damien raised a brow in intrigue as he took a sip of his whiskey.
“Well,” he prompted when Adrian said nothing more. “Is that all you are going to say?”
“She is the most fascinating woman I have ever met,” Adrian blurted out, then took a hasty swallow of his own drink.
“According to others’ reports, she is a meek and mild-mannered woman, yet both times I have spoken with her, she is anything but.
She is fierce in her determination. Dare I say it almost matches my own? ”
With his thoughts starting to pour out, Adrian found himself unable to stop.
“She has the most intensely brown eyes, like honey speckled with gold and forest moss. They practically glow when she is impassioned. And her mind? She needs no assistance whatsoever with her thoughts. She is quick and resourceful. There is an independence about her that I have never seen from a highborn woman. I have seen bored wives step out to experience a bit of freedom from their marriages, but there is always a clumsiness to their actions.”
He shook his head, thinking of Bridget’s disguise and act at the Blue Parrot. The way her ripped dress clung to her form made her look more alluring than the most well-refined of courtesans in London.
“Not Bridget, though,” he went on. “She is… calculated. Sharp. Determined. You should have seen her at Henry’s. She kicked Tibault.”
Damien choked on his drink.
“She did what?” he asked through his coughs.
“I know,” Adrian laughed. “Kicked him right in the shin and ran upstairs to the pleasure rooms, bellowing her husband’s name like a scorned banshee. He was not there, unfortunately, but her efforts to find him today were nothing short of impressive.”
Damien’s brows rose in surprise.
“Even I must admit that is impressive. How did a man such as the Earl land a marriage to someone like her?”
Adrian shook his head, frustrated by such a fact. He could not imagine how such a woman as Bridget had found herself married to the likes of him. What he did know, however, was that she deserved better.
“He is not worthy of her,” Adrian muttered, then drained his glass.
He walked to the drink cart to refill his glass and caught Damien smirking at him as he leaned against the wall.
“What?” Adrian demanded.
“For the last year, you have spoken of nothing but your brother’s death,” Damien said, pushing himself off the wall.
“Yet tonight the only subject you seem to be able to speak about is the Countess of Winslow. Whom, I might point out, you are already calling by her first name. I just find such a shift wildly interesting, is all.”
Adrian frowned as he continued pouring himself another drink.
“She just has me flummoxed, is all,” he retorted.
“Obviously,” Damien quipped, then sipped from his glass.
“She did give me another lead, though,” Adrian said, pulling the conversation back to their investigation.
“The Earl has a mistress. One he cares enough about to put up in a house. She resides in Alfriston. I am going there tomorrow to question her. Or, with any luck, find the Earl there and demand answers.”
The teasing look in Damien’s eyes gave way to determination, and he set down his glass.
“I shall go with you,” he stated.
“No,” Adrian answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.
Damien’s brows furrowed.
“Why are you being like this, Adrian?” he stated, taking a step toward Adrian. “Your brother would not want you to take this on alone.”
Adrian’s tense stature relaxed a little, and he lowered his glass.
“I know that,” he said quietly. “But it is not what you think. I am not pushing you away. I am just in need of your help with something else.”
Adrian then explained what he and Elara had seen that morning with their mother and how troubled they were.
“Could you visit with her? Try to speak with her a little and see what she is thinking? She knows you, Damien. Knows that you have been a friend not just to me but to Evander. Perhaps your presence may help her somehow.”
Damien’s intense gaze softened, and he nodded his head.
“Of course, I will. Your mother was more nurturing to me than my own in my youth. I am saddened to hear that she is still struggling,” Damien replied.
Adrian let out a small breath of relief.
“Thank you, old friend,” he offered.
Damien nodded his head in understanding, then picked up his glass again and walked up to Adrian.
“I have to ask, though, is this Countess of yours joining you on your trip tomorrow?” Damien asked.
Adrian’s body stiffened all over again, wondering what his friend was getting at.
“No. I told her to stay behind. Why do you ask?”
Damien gave Adrian a long, inquisitive look.
“I want you to be careful with her,” Damien finally answered.
“The way you spoke of her, you sound like a man possessed. I feel the need to remind you that she is not only married, but married to the only suspect we have in your brother’s murder.
Feelings for this woman will only serve to hurt you in the end. I do not wish that for you.”
The urge to take offense sizzled up in Adrian, but even as he tried to conjure up his denial, his mind was slammed with images of him and Bridget.
When he had pinned her against the brick wall outside of Henry’s.
He thought of her lips. How plump and pink they were.
How close he had been to them. How much he had wanted to simply lean in a scant further and taste that fury.
Would she have let me kiss her?
A thump from beyond his study door jolted Adrian from his thoughts. Forgetting to soothe Damien’s concerns, Adrian put down his drink and strode toward his study door. Elara tumbled in when he opened it, and he growled in frustration.
Damien had grown up with Evander and Adrian, so he was well aware of Elara’s usual shenanigans and mischief, too. He had watched her test limits and push boundaries often enough over the years to recognize the look on her face the moment she fell into the room.
“Elara,” Adrian barked. “Eavesdropping again?”
Damien’s mouth curved into a knowing, amused smile as he crossed the room and offered Elara a hand, hauling her back to her feet with an ease that spoke more of habit than gallantry.
“I am not—”
“Right,” Damien said lightly. “Should you not be out and about the city at this hour… with your cousin?”
Elara stiffened at once, her eyes widening before narrowing on him suspiciously at the mention of Caroline.
“How could you possibly know that?” she demanded.
Damien merely shrugged, his expression untroubled. “I tend to notice things.”
Adrian watched his sister carefully as she processed that, noting the brief flash of alarm on her face before it gave way to irritation. If nothing else, she looked properly chastened now, which was more than he usually managed to accomplish.
“What are you doing here if not to eavesdrop?” Adrian demanded.
Elara gave him an indignant look as her blush faded, and she swept her hands down her ruffled skirts.
“I told you I wanted to help find our brother’s murderer, but you would not listen,” she answered with a bristling tone. “So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Since you would not tell me to my face, I decided to listen through the door.”
“You said you would look after Mother!” he snapped.
“And she is asleep!” she snapped back.
Then she smirked so wickedly that Adrian bristled.
“And it seems it is good that I stepped away. It seems as if a certain countess has you distracted from our search,” she added haughtily.
“She has done no such thing,” Adrian snapped. Yet even as he said it, he felt the tips of his ears burning. Perhaps she had—but only a little.
He flicked Damien a quick glance and saw that his amused expression matched Elara’s.
“She is a means of information,” he stated testily. “Nothing more.”
Then suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Perhaps there was a way to have Elara help while keeping her out of their hair at the same time.
“Actually, I do believe that there is something you can do to help us,” he stated.
Elara’s haughty expression turned eager in an instant.
“Anything,” she said quickly.
“As I was telling Damien earlier, I think it would do Mother good to have some visitors. He is going to spend some time with her tomorrow, but why not make it into a social gathering? Invite some ladies over for tea tomorrow. See if they know anything of the Earl and Countess of Winslow.”
Elara raised a curious brow.
“You want me to listen in on gossip?” she asked, sounding disappointed.
“Gossip at times has a ring of truth to it,” Adrian countered.
“Especially when a glass or two of sherry is introduced. Loosen their tongues, passively mention the couple, and see what the others have to say. You know as well as I do that women of the ton love to trump one another with what they think they know.”
Elara’s disappointment shifted to a look of intrigue.
“So, I shall be a spy?”
Adrian raised a brow and smirked as he nodded.
Elara crossed her arms with a satisfied grin, obviously pleased with her new assignment.
“Very well. I shall host a tea gathering tomorrow and find out all I can about this Earl of Winslow.”
“And his wife,” Adrian added.
He caught Damien’s raised brow of intrigue and quickly added, “For research purposes. Of course.”
“Of course,” Damien replied with a laugh.