Chapter 12
“Iwas wondering when you might appear.”
Adrian’s stature stiffened with discomfort as he looked between Bridget and Penny. There had been no greeting when Penny had answered the door a moment ago. No false pleasantries and no request for introductions. Just those seven words.
For a moment, there was only silence. Penny’s brown eyes were grazing up and down Bridget’s body repeatedly, no doubt taking in her glowing beauty and positively stunning dress.
Adrian had noted how stunning Bridget appeared in it the moment he had seen her, but kept such a thought to himself, using his anger to color over his raging lust.
Yet as Penny looked Bridget up and down, Adrian noted that Bridget’s eyes remained steadfast on Penny’s bosom. More precisely, on the cameo brooch pinned to the pale blue silk of her low-cut bodice.
“I was not aware that you would be expecting me,” Bridget answered, her tone soft yet clipped as she finally lifted her eyes to the copper-haired beauty before them. “But I suppose you know why I am here.”
Penny’s tongue darted between her lips, her bravado seemingly slipping a little as Bridget met her gaze.
Penny’s eyes flicked from Bridget to Adrian.
“I may know who you are, Lady Winslow,” Penny replied, “However—”
“Ah, forgive me,” Bridget interrupted, swaying a hand toward Adrian. “This is the Duke of Redgrave. He believes our husband has killed his brother.”
Adrian’s head swiveled toward Bridget so fast he felt a pop in his neck as Penny’s eyes widened and her lips parted. Bridget had not only stated his purpose so very casually, but she had also referred to the Earl as their husband, as if she almost found his deceit comical!
“I believe you should invite us in,” Bridget stated coolly. “We have much to discuss. He is here, is he not?”
Just then, thunder clapped loudly from above, and rain began to descend in heavy sheets toward the earth. As if she took the storm as an omen, Penny opened the door wider and stepped aside to let them in.
Adrian watched as Bridget held her head high as she stepped through the threshold, and without a word, he followed her inside. The home, he quickly realized, was not as lavish as the noble estates in London were, but the space was clean and decorated with feminine touches.
“I am afraid Warren is not here,” Penny stated as she led them through a small foyer and into a vast kitchen. He watched as she picked up a tea towel and swung the kettle hanging from the hearth’s fire.
“Tea?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” Bridget answered stiffly, taking a seat at the plain, round wooden table in the center of the room.
Penny’s eyes flicked to Adrian, and he shook his head. Whiskey, God yes, but tea would not soothe over the tension gathered between the three of them.
Penny shrugged and brought the kettle to the counter to prepare a cup for herself.
“I had thought this moment would come with hatred and threats,” Penny confessed as she busied herself. “And I must admit that the lack of such has me taken quite by surprise.”
“So you knew about me. Knew Warren was married. Yet you still wanted to be with him?” Bridget asked.
Penny threw a pensive glance over her shoulder toward Bridget, then nodded.
“A girl like me does not have many options,” she stated, going back to preparing her tea. “Too pretty for a farmer’s wife, yet too common to be a nobleman’s wife. At least as a mistress to one, there is a certain sort of protection.”
“Do you love each other?” Bridget asked.
Adrian’s brows furrowed as Penny came to the table. He had become rather good at taking control of situations, yet he found himself once more in one that Bridget had taken the reins over.
Penny sighed, focusing on her teacup. “I do not even know if such a thing truly exists. There is comfort, and perhaps that is all a woman can experience in this life.”
She flicked her eyes to Bridget, who, Adrian once again noticed, was focused more on the woman’s brooch.
“Do you love him?” Penny asked.
“No,” Bridget answered, and the truth in her voice struck an odd chord of relief in Adrian’s chest.
“I am not here out of love scorned,” Bridget went on, “I am here because the whispers of Warren’s reputation have risen to shouts since he has gone missing, and such a thing has begun to affect my way of life.”
Penny’s eyes moved back to Adrian’s.
“And is such shouting about your brother?” Penny asked, her tone timid.
Adrian felt a pang in his chest as he shook his head.
“No,” he replied, “I have kept such a theory private until I can gather more evidence. Which is why I need to find him and speak with him.”
“You make it sound as if such a discussion would be so cordial,” Penny remarked, bringing her cup of tea to her lips.
Adrian’s hand clenched atop the table as he ground his teeth together.
“I assure you, madam, it will not,” he gritted out.
She studied them for a long moment as she held her teacup in her hands, as if trying to decide what to do.
“I have sometimes wondered if Warren was capable of such violence,” she murmured, setting her cup down. “There have been times when he has come to me in horrid states. Reeking of spirit and shouting threats.”
Adrian leaned forward in his seat, his heartbeat quickening.
“Has he ever mentioned anyone by the name Evander?” he demanded.
Penny seemed to take a moment to think, then shook her head.
“No, I do not recall that name,” she replied.
Frustrated that he had come to yet another dead end, Adrian pushed out of his chair and went to the window, watching the rain and lightning thrash through the trees.
All this for nothing…
“You said Warren was not here.” He heard Bridget continue.
“That is right,” Penny replied, “And has not been here since…”
Adrian turned back to the women as he heard Penny’s voice fade.
She had set her teacup down and now had her head bowed low, her left hand resting upon her belly, the other fiddling at the brooch on her bosom.
Suddenly, he knew what she was struggling to say, and pity surged through him as he shifted his gaze to Bridget, who still only focused on the brooch Penny was fiddling with.
“Go on,” Bridget urged.
“Since I told him I was with child a month ago,” Penny whispered, her cheeks flushing crimson.
As Bridget looked up from the brooch, Adrian could see the emptiness in her eyes. He took a step forward, overcome with the sudden urge to comfort her, but stopped himself as he made it back to the table, tightly curling his hands around the back of his vacant chair instead.
“A child?” Bridget rasped. “How lucky you are.”
Penny’s nose crinkled as she shook her head, and her face reddened even more.
“That is not so,” she said on a sob. “He had nothing to say. Not a single thing. He left without a word, only to come back several hours later with this brooch. When I answered the door, he dropped it into my hands and left again in silence. I have not seen him, nor heard from him, since. And only yesterday I was told the payments he made for my food and milk deliveries had stopped. He has abandoned me. Abandoned us. And I have no idea what I am going to do.”
As if she had only just realized the truth of what she had just said, Penny burst into tears and cradled her head in her hands.
“What you are going to do is give me this brooch,” Bridget answered calmly, quietly.
“What?” Penny sobbed.
“You are going to give me your brooch,” Bridget repeated, slipping the purse off her wrist and putting it in front of Penny.
“And in return, I am going to give you all the money I have brought with me today, plus an additional payment that will be sent to you the moment I return to London. I will ensure that it will be enough for you and your child to start somewhere new, where no one knows you.”
Adrian’s eyes widened further, amazed and confused as Bridget then pulled off the ring on her left hand and the two on her right, and placed them beside the purse.
“Wear one of these as a wedding band. Say that you are a widow. People will be kinder to widows.” Bridget went on, “Sell the other two. All of these combined should provide some security for you and your baby for a time.”
“Take these as well,” Bridget added, then proceeded to remove her earrings, necklace, and the gold pins from her hair, and place them next to the purse and rings.
Penny’s tears stopped as she continued to stare at Bridget.
“I… I do not—” she stammered, shaking her head. “I thought that you would hate me, I thought… Why are you helping me?”
“I am not helping you,” Bridget replied calmly, her eyes once more focused on the piece of jewelry nestled at Penny’s bosom. “I am simply buying a brooch.”
“Bridget, what on earth!” Adrian exclaimed, slamming the carriage door shut after they had run through the rain and left Penny in a shocked state. “Why did you—”
Bridget burst into tears before Adrian could say another word, startling him.
She pulled the brooch she had been fixated on from the moment she had seen Penny from the inside of her cloak and pressed it to her lips.
Then she smiled through her tears as she looked down at the brooch, caressed it lovingly, and then kissed it again.
Adrian had been confused before, not at all sure why, after discovering that such a mistress was with child, she had offered such help to her.
Most women, he was sure, would take a certain glee in knowing that such a woman was abandoned.
And yet Bridget had given all her money and jewelry for this old brooch.
As the carriage began to move, he pulled his kerchief from his pocket and moved to sit beside Bridget. This time, he did not stop himself as he did the first night they met, and he gently dabbed the kerchief to her damp cheeks.
“Bridget, what is the matter?” he asked, his tone gentle. “What is going on? Why are you crying? Why did you want this brooch so badly?”
Bridget shook her head as she pressed the brooch to her chest, her tears slowing.
“You would not understand,” she whispered, then sniffled.
He studied her face carefully, emotions churning inside him.
“Tell me anyway,” he insisted.
He let the kerchief fall from his hand and stroked the last of her tears from her cheek with his thumb.
Fire traced through his veins as, for the briefest of moments, he felt Bridget nuzzle into his touch.
Then he looked down, fascinated, and noticed how enticingly tight her soaked dress clung to her delicious figure.
His mouth watered at the sight, and though they were soaked to the bone and chilled, a sudden heat filled the small space.
Adrian leaned closer, imagining what it would be like to replace his hand with his lips.
Would she let me…
Then, as if Bridget could read his thoughts, her cheeks flushed, and she sat up, pulling away from his touch.
Adrian cleared his throat, realizing what he had just done, and clenched his hands into fists as he took the seat opposite her.
“Is there an affinity you have for brooches?” he asked, hoping to break the sudden tension. “If so, I am sure my sister can find you a much better place to purchase them.”
To his relief, Bridget let out a laugh, and he could not help but smile.
“No,” she said through her laughter, holding the brooch up to her view once again. “Just this particular one. It has… sentimental value, you see. And I thought it was lost forever.”
She stroked it lovingly.
“You have no idea what it means to me to have it back,” she sighed.
A pang of longing hit Adrian hard in the chest, and he wished that she were wrong.
He would give anything to get his brother back.
With the longing came a sudden bout of rage, knowing that he was no closer to finding the man who murdered Evander.
He needed to stop focusing on Bridget and her woes.
More importantly, he needed to start ignoring the growing urge to be close to her.
It was good that they were heading back to London. They needed to part.
You should have found him by now, a merciless voice whispered in the back of his mind. You should have brought him to justice. Instead, you chase shadows and allow yourself to be distracted, just as you always were.
His jaw tightened as the old guilt settled heavily in his chest, the sense that no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how many doors he kicked open, he would never quite live up to the name his brother had left behind.
Yet as he had the thought, the carriage suddenly lurched, and the momentum had him flying out of his seat and toward Bridget. His heartbeat raced as his hands caught the back of her seat, and fire once more rushed through his veins as his lips stopped a mere breath away from hers.
For a moment, they stayed that way. Their eyes locked, lips parted. Breaths coming out in soft bursts so close they could feel each other.
Then the carriage door was flung open.
Adrian wrenched his head to the side, still bracing himself against the back of Bridget’s seat, and glared at his driver.
“What in the devil was that?” he demanded.
“It is the storm, Your Grace,” his driver shouted through the heavy rain. “It has washed out the road! There is no way we can continue in these conditions! We need to find shelter somewhere.”