Page 21 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
He let go of her hand, but she could feel the warmth of his fingers even as he quickly checked her neck and ears.
He does care.He does not want me to enter these places adorned with things that will make me more of a target.
“Stay behind me at all times,” he told her.
They entered the tavern, finding it low-lit and mostly empty.
Edwina was not sure if that was a good thing or not, but the Duke only strode towards the back of the tavern and planted a hand on the bar. She lingered behind as she was told.
“I am looking for information on the whereabouts of the Earl of Montgomery. He could have used an alias.”
Edwina had not thought of that. The bartender shot her a curious look over the Duke’s shoulder.
Subtly, the Duke shifted, blocking her from view. “Well?” he prompted when the man said nothing.
“I ain’t running my mouth.” The bartender shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.
Edwina glared at him, but the Duke was already tossing a pouch of coins to him. “Reconsider.”
The bartender peeked inside the pouch, his eyes lighting up at the coins inside, and then he beckoned the Duke closer, glancing around.
“You ain’t heard nothing from me, but there’s a man goin’ by that name in these parts. Last I heard, he owed money—a very handsome sum, you know?”
“To whom?”
“Some underground lord—not of any estate, mind you. He goes by the name of Patrick Benson.”
The Duke pulled back, slowly nodding. “I see. You will keep this a secret.”
It was not a question, and he only gave the bartender a long, scathing look before he turned around.
Once they were outside, he frowned as he thought of their next location.
“Should we try?—”
Edwina didn’t get very far with her suggestion, for he spoke over her.
“Patrick Benson. I do not know that name, but there is this man, and then Stockton.” His mouth tightened. “Just how many men does your brother owe money to?”
He continued before she could respond.
“Andwhy? Your house certainly does not seem to reap the benefits of any loaned money. And your personal touches are not those typical of an earl’s sister, and surely there would be more staff.” A pinched look crossed his face as he shook his head. “Let us keep looking. There has to be something else to discover.”
Edwina had an idea who Patrick Benson might be—who any man her brother owed money to might be. She believed they were the suppliers of opiates. But she bit her tongue and nodded, following the Duke as they visited more gambling hells, dens, and taverns, until eventually, neither could think of another location.
She retreated to their carriage and sat down next to him. Her panic and fear for her brother had increased until she was on the verge of tears. A sense of dread had long settled in her chest, seizing her until she fought to breathe.
“We shall wait until he returns,” the Duke said quietly. “Until then, I want you back, safe, at the house.”
“And my brother? I cannot help but worry about him. He has never jumped out of the window before.”
“He has made a choice tonight, for whatever reason he has. If he wishes to gallivant in the night and leave you worried, that has to be his choice. You cannot fret every time a man goes missing, for half the ton would lose their wits entirely. He is a young earl, no doubt deep in his cups somewhere, perhaps flirting.”
Edwina turned to fix him with a glare. “You are so certain that he is a villain, hellbent on leaving poor, little me defenseless. I amnot. Whatever recollection you have of me from your friendship with Nicholas, banish it.”
His eyes flashed as if he did not deny her anger.
“You do not know him anymore! You cannot fathom what he has been through, and yet you judge him, you scorn him, and you fight with him. How can you protect him from everyone else when he cannot be protected from your own judgment?”
