When she stopped before a heavy oak door and pushed it open, the scent of old books and ink greeted him.
“This is my husband’s study,” Bridget said, coming to a stop in the long hallway. “Say what you came to say, and then you will leave.”
Adrian strode in without fear or pretense and went to the Earl’s desk, opening drawers the moment he sat down. As he did so,Bridget joined him, and he noted how her hands shook as she opened the fine wooden boxes that lay in a neat row atop the Earl’s desk.
“Are you looking for something as well?” he asked, shifting his eyes back down to the task at hand.
So far, there was nothing in the drawers except stationery and invoices.
“That is none of your business, Your Grace,” Bridget answered briskly, upending a second box.
Adrian could not help but look back up as Bridget sifted through the mess of pens and metal book markers she had just made. The line of her brows drew down as she clearly did not find what she was looking for, and as she reached for the third box, her plump lips drew back in a surprisingly feral snarl.
“Curse it all!” she exclaimed when there were no more boxes left to upturn. “It is not here!”
The urge to find out what it was that Bridget was looking for was overwhelming, but Adrian had his own clues to follow. He continued to rifle through the drawers, and he let out his own curse as he shot up from the chair empty-handed.
“There has to be something here,” he growled, going to the bookshelves.
It has taken me a year to come this far. I cannot fail now!
Feeling his grip on his sanity slip a little further, Adrian began pulling books off the shelf and throwing them off.
“Your Grace, I will have to ask you to behave. That is my husband’s study,” she hissed, moving closer. “You have no right—”
“When is he coming back?”
“If you are one of his debt collectors, you should come back at a more respectable hour. I told you that he is not home. And I have nothing of value to give you.”
For some reason, Adrian believed her. She was a stranger, but something told him she was not as impressed by the finery surrounding her as other women would be. She was also direct. Adrian liked that. So, in respect, he decided to be direct with her.
He closed the distance between them in two measured steps, stopping so near that she could feel the heat of him.
“I am not a debt collector,” he said quietly. “And I do not believe that you have anything of value that you can give me.”
Her pulse skidded violently.
She lifted her chin in defiance, though her body betrayed her, swaying ever so slightly toward him.
“You should step back,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Should I?”
She would still not quite meet his gaze.
That was when his hand came up.
His fingers closed gently but firmly around her chin, tilting her face upward until her eyes were forced to meet his.
“Do not lie to me,” Adrian said, his voice low and dangerous. “You are the Earl’s wife. You know where he is. You are coveringfor him.”
Her breath trembled against his palm.
“I am not,” she whispered.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes,” she said, shame flickering across her features. “Because it is the truth.”
