“Stop,” Adrian whispered as Bridget stepped between him and Tibault.
However, if she heard him, Bridget chose not to obey and only leered up at Tibault.
“I am the Earl of Winslow’s wife. My husband has been missing for going on four days now, and it is time that he returnedhome.”
Tibault’s gaze hardened, though he gave a forced bow of his head.
“With all due respect, my lady, I have no answers for you. The marital status of our patrons is none of our business, and when they are inside these walls, their privacy is protected.”
“Lord Winslow has been missing,” Adrian intervened. “Surely you understand how worrisome that could be for a wife?”
“And I sympathize,” Tibault replied, glaring hard down at Bridget. “But we cannot bend our rules. If word got out that we allowed wives in our business, it would be ruined.”
“That is a shame,” Bridget quickly replied. “For I am not leaving until you either tell me if my husband is here or you allow us to look around for ourselves.”
Adrian watched as Tibault’s eyes darkened and his mouth grew into a sneer.
“Respectfully, my lady.Go homewhere you should be.”
“Bridget,” Adrian murmured in her ear. “Perhaps you should go wait in the carriage. Maybe I can—”
Before Adrian could finish his sentence, Bridget’s leg shot out from the confines of her cloak and kicked at Tibault’s shin. His brows rose, and his mouth dropped open as her foot made contact. Tibault let out a grunt of pain as he reached for the assaulted area, and as quick as a flash, Bridget bolted away from both of them.
This woman will be the death of me.
Chapter 9
“Get back here!” Tibault roared as Bridget raced through the crowded gaming hell, her heart racing.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she slipped past the guards and broke into a run, her skirts gathered in her hands as she darted for the stairs to the private rooms above. Shouts erupted behind her almost instantly, voices raised in anger and disbelief as another man cursed and followed her, his heavy boots pounding the steps only a few heartbeats behind.
Bridget did not dare look back. She took the stairs two at a time, her lungs burning as the narrow corridor above came into view.
What did I just do?
She had never struck anyone in her life! Her family and friends would be livid. What would the other ladies say about that if they saw it? They would probably shun her for life.
Yet even as her foot throbbed with pain from the strike, Bridget could not help but notice the sense of thrill that was coursing through her veins. She was becoming a new woman, and sheliked it.
“Warren!” she shouted, running up the stairs to the private rooms. “Warren, come out right now!”
Several doors opened as she reached the hallway. The heads of both women and men alike popped out, wide-eyed and mussed as Bridget shouted her demands. None of them, though, was her husband.
Refusing to give up, she began shoving doors open, interrupting several stages of intimacy. Astonishment spiraled through her at some of the things she saw, but none of the naked or half-naked men were Warren. She was about to open the last door when a strong hand wrapped around her arm, and she felt herself being lifted from the floor. A tall mountain of a man in a fine suit stepped in her way.
A cry tore from her throat as pain flared, and she stumbled back against him as he spun her around, his grip bruising as he leaned down into her space.
“Look at you,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. “Running about like this, humiliating yourself in front of everyone.” His mouth twisted cruelly. “Wives like you are all the same. Pathetic. Jealous women like you always are. Chasing after men who clearly don’t want to be found.”
The words struck deeper than the pain in her arm, and for a terrible moment, Bridget felt the weight of every watching eye, every whispered judgment she had feared pressing in on her all at once. Still, she lifted her chin, even as her heart raced, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze.
“Unhand the lady.”
The command came from behind them, low and lethal, and the man stiffened as though a blade had been pressed to his throat.
Adrian stood a few paces away, his expression dark with restrained fury, his eyes fixed on the hand gripping Bridget’s arm. He took a step closer, his presence commanding and unmistakable.
“If you value that hand,” Adrian continued coolly, “you will remove it. Now.”
