Chapter 29
“Ido not understand this change,” Damien grumbled, his eyes narrowed at Adrian as he lounged in his chair and lazily swirled his glass of whiskey. “Leaving our work early. It is not like you. We could take the papers to Redgrave ourselves. Stop at that tavern that serves those lamb pies.”
Adrian laughed as he closed the folder of papers and put it in the black leather attaché case for his steward.
He and Damien had had to meet at the offices of their solicitor earlier that morning to obtain papers for a recent business venture they had chosen to enter together, but they had returned a short time ago to the Mason estate.
Adrian’s body had begged him to ignore his study and go directly upstairs, where he hoped Bridget was still waiting for him—hopefully still as deliciously bare as she had been earlier that morning—but he had to get the new documents to his estate in Redgrave.
Thankfully, he had a steward who would take care of such matters, leaving Adrian free for the day very soon.
“Do not worry, my friend, you will understand soon enough. When you find the right woman, the world changes,” Adrian replied.
Damien grunted as he moved from his chair and looked out the window.
“They truly change a man that much?” Damien murmured. Adrian watched as his friend became fixated on something particular out the window.
“Not they. Her. A particular her. One woman destined for you and you destined for her,” Adrian corrected as he walked over to Damien.
Curious as to what had caught his friend’s sudden attention, Adrian peered over Damien’s shoulder.
He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just his sister, as usual, and of course, Caroline, who had been spending more time at their family home.
Adrian glanced at Damien, saw the intense look of concentration on his chiseled face, then glanced back down at Elara and Caroline, who were giggling and speaking quite animatedly.
Suddenly, Adrian’s mind began to make the connection.
“You cad!” Adrian declared, punching Damien’s arm.
“Hey!” Damien roared, shoving Adrian as he stepped back and rubbed his arm. “What in God’s name was that for?”
“My sister? You are staring at my baby sister? That’s in very bad taste; we all grew up together!”
Damien’s laugh was loud and sudden, pausing Adrian’s sudden rage.
“Elara?” He chuckled, looking at Adrian as if he had gone mad. “What are you talking about? I am not looking at her.”
Adrian’s temper cooled, but only slightly. If it was not Elara then—
“Caroline?” he asked.
The tips of Damien’s ears turned red as he turned back to the window.
“I have told myself not to,” Damien murmured.
“That she is as off-limits as Elara is. Yet every time I am in the same room with her, I am drawn to her. She looks at things and people as if she knows some deeply valuable secret about them. As if she knows more than the rest of us do. I find her… fascinating.”
Adrian’s brows flew up, both surprised and intrigued at this new bit of knowledge.
“I am not sure I have ever seen you speak to her much,” Adrian added. “Have you thought about courting?”
Before Damien could answer, the door to his study was flung open, and Nora ran in with a panicked expression. For a moment, Adrian balked, fearing that she had lost her way mentally again.
“Where is she?” Nora demanded, “Where is Bridget?”
Adrian’s heart dropped into his stomach as he closed the space between himself and Nora and gripped her arms, his conversation with Damien quickly forgotten.
“What do you mean, Mother?” he demanded.
“I mean, where is my daughter-in-law?” Nora shouted, her blue eyes burning with fear. “Her maids said she was feeling poorly and did not wish to be disturbed, yet when I went to her rooms to bring her some tea, she was not there! Her rooms are a mess!”
Panic filling his veins, Adrian let go of his mother and ran past her.
He raced up the stairs, taking several at a time, and ran down the hall until he reached the open door of Bridget’s rooms. His eyes widened as he took in the mess.
Her vanity and jewelry display were in complete disarray, with empty velvet boxes and cases strewn everywhere.
“Bridget?” he called aloud, moving past the mess and to her closet. He searched every compartment, his hope fading each time he found one empty.
By the time he made it back into her bedroom, Damien and Nora had arrived. Damien was staring wide-eyed at the mess as Nora pilfered through a stack of correspondence atop Bridget’s writing desk.
A sick feeling bloomed in Adrian’s stomach as he tried to think of what to do.
Bridget was gone. Taken her most valuable jewels and left.
What did that mean? Did he fail? After all Victor had spewed that night a week ago, had he failed at proving to Bridget that she was more than that?
Did she still think their marriage had been a mistake, and left him?
“Nothing!” Nora said in a frustrated tone as she tossed the letters into the air.
Adrian sank down onto the bed as his mother moved to Bridget’s vanity next. Pain ebbed in his heart, shooting through the rest of his body as he slowly dropped his head into his hands.
“Oh, God,” Nora breathed. “Adrian! Adrian, read this!”
Pushing his pain and confusion aside, Adrian rose from the bed and took the letter Nora held out to him. First surprise, then confusion, then rage tunneled through him as he read the letter that not only claimed that Evander was alive, but had also threatened his wife.
All of the doubt he had felt was suddenly thrust away by an intense love and admiration for Bridget as she—a woman who had never met Evander—had put her life at risk to rescue him.
“Do you think it could be true?” Nora whispered, holding her hands to her lips. “Do you think our Evander is still alive?”
Adrian felt a lump form in his throat as he saw the desperation in his mother’s face. It would mean everything in the world to her—to all of them, if that were somehow true. Yet despite Nora’s earlier insistence, Adrian still could not let himself hope as she did.
“I do not know,” he said softly, choosing to spare her from his true opinion. “However, it is clear that whoever wrote this did so with ill cause.”
“Go get them!” Nora exclaimed, pushing him and Damien toward the door. “Go get my children and bring them back to me!”
Adrian’s body was as still as stone as he looked at the proposed dead man before him. Not a single tremble through his sinews despite the rage beating in his heart.
“Winslow,” he gritted out.
He and Damien had ridden through the streets of London like two of the horsemen of the Apocalypse, sending those in their way scrambling for safety as they made their way to the address written in the letter.
Adrian did not expect to find Evander, despite the hope that still lived in his mother’s heart.
However, it was not Warren Carson, the late Earl of Winslow, that he had suspected of holding his wife hostage either.
“Your Grace,” Warren answered, his tone careful.
At his side sat Bridget, her mouth and hands bound. As she looked at Adrian with pleading eyes, Warren’s hand moved to her shoulder, applying enough pressure to make her bow her head and whimper through her gag.
“I see my wife has betrayed me once—”
Warren was not able to finish his sentence. Adrian flew at him, grabbing the man by the throat and shoving him against the wall.
“My wife!” Adrian growled, tightening his grip as Warren’s face began to turn purple. “She is my wife, and you will pay for what you have done to her!”
He cocked the fist of his other hand and struck Warren’s face as he kept him pinned to the wall, eliciting a growl of pain from the man.
“Damien!” Adrian snapped. “Get her free this instant!”
Adrian waited to hear the flurry of movement that should have commenced. The sounds of ropes being cut, of Bridget letting out a sound of relief as her gag was removed, but none came.
“Dam—” His friend’s name died on his lips as Adrian turned to the side and found the barrel of a pistol a mere inch away from his face. Victor, the scum, stood there smiling like the devil he was, waiting quietly.
“I am afraid your friend would rather keep you alive than save your whore,” Victor stated, pulling back the hammer of his pistol. “Frankly, I would be all too willing to give you both up.”
In his grasp, Warren let out a ragged chuckle. Adrian turned to look at him. His smile was wide and bloody as he shook his head.
“What were you saying?” Warren wheezed out. “About your wife? Seeing as how I am still alive, that could only mean that your marriage is false. A charade of poor consequence.”
“Let go of my brother’s throat now, if you please,” Victor said, nudging the barrel of his pistol to Adrian’s temple.
Adrian gritted his teeth, but he forced his fingers to uncurl from the man’s throat and dropped his hand to his side.
“Step back,” Victor commanded calmly.
Adrian’s hands curled into fists by his sides, but he obeyed.
He spared a quick glance toward Bridget, whose wide eyes were glistening with tears as they flicked between him and the two brothers.
“You do not deserve her,” Adrian stated, turning his gaze back to Warren. “You never treated her with respect. Never treated her like a wife.”
“Well, that is none of your business, is it?” Warren asked, massaging his throat.
“Even if I had truly died, you would have found out for yourself how boring and silly she is. Such a quiet, begging thing; always looking for praise after doing the simplest of acts. It is natural that she would jump at the first man who showed her a speck of affection.”
“Watch your mouth,” Adrian snarled.