Bridget waited until Victor slid his finger away from her lips, shivering once more in revulsion at his touch.
“Do you know what happened?” she asked, hoping her softer tone would keep Victor from feeling the need to reach to touch her lips or any part of her body again.
Her brother-in-law shook his head as he frowned deeply.
“It is hard to say,” he said with a deep sigh. “I loved my older brother deeply, but he kept such poor company, you know? I would not be surprised if it were a debtor or one of his mistresses. As you might know, he had several.”
Bridget just stood there, not sure what to think. What to say. What to feel. Her husband was dead. She should be crying, surely, or at least feel sad. Yet she felt strangely numb.
“Bridget?” Victor asked.
Just as Adrian had the night before, Victor reached up to cup her face. Only instead of feeling tremors of pleasure, she shivered with disgust and pulled away from his touch. Victor had never acted so familiar with her, and this new show of affection was most off-putting.
“What happens now?” she asked, her voice barely above her whisper. She turned around, watching as a dozen or so men continued to pack up multiple things from her home. She was just a woman. A wife with no heir. Even if she wanted the things they were packing up, it was not as if she could stop them. Her husband owed many debts.
Bridget fought another shiver. Victor’s arms came around her shoulders, and he pulled her back into his chest. She jerked her head to the side as she felt the stench of his breath against her cheek.
“Do not worry, little Bridget,” Victor whispered, his pointed chin nuzzling painfully into her shoulder. “I shall take good care of you.”
Nausea welled up in Bridget’s stomach at his words, and she could not help but shake her head.
“Thank you, but there is no need,” she insisted. “I… I shall stay with a friend until my mourning period is over, and then I will see what I shall do.”
“Do not be silly,” Victor replied, his arms going tighter around her, making it hard to breathe. “You shall stay here. With me. It is exactly what my brother would want, and we should honor his wishes, should we not?”
For the first time since hearing the news, tears began to well in Bridget’s eyes. Not because her husband was dead, or becauseof his colossal debts, which meant she was certainly losing her possessions and possibly her home.
No. She was crying because, from beyond the grave, Warren still seemed to have total control over her life.
Chapter 16
Three Days Later
“Devil take me, man, there you are,” Damien’s voice resounded. “Where have you been?”
Adrian looked up, slowly fighting his way out of his deep thoughts. He was at White’s, London’s best Gentlemen’s Club, at a private table away from the usual raucous. He had not seen Damien since he had left for Alfriston, and if his friend’s expression was any indication, Damien was not too happy over Adrian’s extended absence.
In truth, he needed the time away. Not just from Bridget, but from everyone. He needed time to let his mind process the multiple ‘what-ifs’ that had inhabited his brain so that he could finally let them go, move on, and return to the search for his brother’s killer.
What if Bridget had been his? What if she had not been married to Warren? What if he had found her first? Would he have been worthy enough to marry her?
“Around,” Adrian said, finally answering his friend’s question.
Damien glared at him as he took a seat next to him.
“Do you have any idea how long I have been looking for you?” Damien insisted. “By God, I thought the constables had gotten hold of you and were lying about it! When did you return from Alfriston?”
That shook Adrian fully from his Bridget-riddled thoughts.
“What are you talking about? Why would the constables have me?” he demanded.
“He is dead, Adrian,” Damien stated without pretense, his features carved into a most serious expression. “The Earl of Winslow is dead.”
Adrian deadpanned, which caused Damien to let loose a snarl as he reached out and shook his friend’s shoulders. Farley, as promised, had sent word that he had returned Bridget safely to her home, but there had been no information of the Earl’s passing in his message.
“Did you hear me?” Damien demanded. “Winslow isdead.”
“When?” Adrian’s mind finally caught up to the gravity of the news. “How?”
