“I’m rather curious too,” Warrick muttered.
A figure filled the doorway. “Then allow me to appease your curiosity.” He arched a brow at Selena’s pistol, and then at Lady Ridgeland, his eyes taking on a steel edge.
“Ah, Duke, you are just in time,” Selena said. She patted the duke on the shoulder, eyeing Warrick. “Mortimer offered to help me find the club, and he did.”
“Mortimer.” Warrick’s gaze shifted between the duke and Selena, and for one miniscule second, she rejoiced in the emotion she saw flash across his face. Her gaze flicked briefly to his bare chest before meeting his gaze. Drat her heart. Always skipping beats when their eyes collided.
What on earth was this feeling?
She loved him, she loathed him. She wanted to punch him and hug him. He was both her longest infatuation and her most ardent opponent. Selena was conflicted in so many ways and about so many things. But one thing she was certain about, one thing she had no doubt about.
She wanted Warrick.
In her life.
Her heart.
Her bed.
She wouldnevercut ties with him.
She blinked. Now was not the time to be thinking about such things!
The duke stepped forward. “I’ll take the pistol,” he said, and expertly transferred the weapon to his hand.
Selena blinked again, stepping aside.That’s what you get when you’re distracted by a man.
“It’s over, Lady Ridgeland,” Mortimer announced.
Lady Ridgeland. “Today, perhaps. It’s such a shame, as I’ve been having so much fun.” She tapped Warrick’s shoulder. “With this one in particular.”
Warrick scowled. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh?” Selena asked, arching a brow. “What does it not look like? Because from where I am standing, you are bound to a chair and bare chested with a woman pawing you.” She glanced at her brother. “And with an audience on top of that. Quite the compromising position you find yourself in.”
“Not willingly.”
Selena bit down on the inside of her lip. Seeing him with her own eyes, though he was a bit disheveled, some of her good spirits returned. And now that the duke was here, he could removethatwoman.
“That is enough.” Lady Ridgeland said to the duke, “You have no power here, Your Grace. Elias will return any moment now. I suggest you leave before he does.” Those eyes settled on Selena. “And I suggest you retrieve that book for me.”
“If you are referring to the man with the scar,” Mortimer said, “he is already in my custody.”
Selena glanced over her shoulder. “He is? When? I thought you said you weren’t going to call for Runners.”
“Not Runners. My men. They’ve been following us from the start.”
The man left nothing to chance. “Why did I even ask?” Selena muttered. She turned to Lady Ridgeland. “I have a question. What was the goal of the trousers?” She wiggled a leg. “What did you gain from that parade, if you can even call it that?”
Lady Ridgeland let out a huff. “Who are you to ask me questions about things that aren’t any of your business?”
A few days ago, Selena would have faltered at the question. She’d started this journey questioning her selfhood. But now, this very moment, she had no hesitation whatsoever.
“Who am I?” She strode up to Lady Ridgeland. “I am Selena Savage. And I have every right to question your business.”
“You are nothing but—”
A swift, crisp crack echoed through the room. Lady Ridgeland head jerked to the side; her hand clasped her cheek in shock. Selena’s palm burned. But it was a satisfying burn.
