Page 26 of The Duke’s Untouched Bride (Regency Second Chances #3)

“ Y our Grace looks troubled tonight.”

Owen glanced up from his untouched brandy to find the barkeep studying him with professional curiosity.

The gaming hall reeked of cheap gin and cheaper perfume—exactly the sort of establishment a duke had no business frequenting. But respectability held little appeal when weighed against the need for information.

“I’m looking for someone,” Owen said, sliding a coin across the stained wood. “French. A woman who might have come seeking work recently.”

Even though he’d decided otherwise, a big part of him couldn’t stop whispering to him about Adele’s fate. She was Evie’s natural mother, and the girl deserved to know about her, eventually. And if Owen waited for too long, perhaps he’d never find Adele. So, he renewed his search, for Evie’s sake.

The barkeep’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Ah, a taste for champagne , have we? Let me see what I can arrange.”

Owen’s jaw tightened. He should clarify his purpose, but explanations would only complicate matters. Better to let the man draw his own conclusions.

“Any French girls on your roster?” he pressed.

“Had one asking about work a month back. But she wasn’t looking for this kind of employment.” The barkeep gestured toward the main floor, where painted women plied their trade. “Wanted serving or cleaning. Strange, that. Most girls who end up here ain’t got other options.”

A month ago. The same answer he’d received at other establishments that evening. The timing sent ice through Owen’s veins.

“Do you remember anything else about her?” he asked.

“Pretty enough, but thin as a stick. Dark hair, spoke with a French accent.” The barkeep shrugged. “Told her to try the factories. Ain’t seen her since.”

Owen pushed another coin forward. “If anyone asks, we never spoke.”

“My lips are sealed.” The barkeep pocketed the money with practiced ease.

Owen moved deeper into the establishment, scanning faces without hope.

Adele wouldn’t be here. If she’d been reduced to this kind of work, she would have taken the first position offered rather than maintaining standards about employment.

Unless she’d been looking for something else entirely.

Information, perhaps. Or simply a place to disappear.

The thought of Nicholas’s lover reduced to begging for work in gaming halls made Owen’s chest tighten with guilt. He should have searched for her sooner. Should have expected that a foreign woman with no connections might struggle to survive on London’s unforgiving streets.

“Looking for company, Your Grace?”

An older woman materialized at his elbow. Her painted face showed the wear of too many years in places like this. She moved with the practiced grace of someone who’d learned to read men’s desires before they said them aloud.

“Information,” Owen corrected, steering her toward an empty table in the corner. “About one of your colleagues. A French girl named Adele.”

The woman’s expression sharpened with interest. “Information costs extra.”

Owen produced his purse, noting how her eyes tracked the movement. “What can you tell me about her?”

“Adele.” She repeated the name slowly, as if doing so would jog her memory. “Pretty little thing. Came around, asking questions a few weeks back. Looked like she hadn’t eaten in days.”

“What kind of questions?”

“About work, mostly. But not the kind we offer here.” The woman leaned closer and dropped her voice. “Seemed more interested in finding someone than finding employment. Kept asking if we’d seen any gentlemen matching particular descriptions.”

Owen’s pulse quickened. “What descriptions?”

“Black hair, gray eyes. Well-dressed. The kind of man who might frequent establishments like this for entertainment.” Her smile held no warmth. “Could have been describing half the gentlemen in London.”

Or one specific duke who’d been searching gaming halls for information about a dead friend’s lover.

“Did she find what she was looking for?”

“Not here. But she seemed to think she might have better luck elsewhere.” The woman studied him with calculating eyes. “Strange thing, though. She had that look about her.”

“What look?”

“The hollow-eyed exhaustion of a woman who’d recently given birth. And she kept touching her stomach like she was missing something.” The woman held out her hand expectantly. “Is that enough for you?”

Owen placed several more coins in her palm. “If anyone else comes around asking about Adele, you’ve never heard the name.”

“Of course,” she said and tucked the money away with professional efficiency.

As Owen made his way toward the exit, his mind raced. This was another establishment where he’d received the same disturbing information.

Adele had been in London, searching for someone who matched his description. Which meant she’d been looking for him.

But why?

To reclaim Evie? To demand answers about Nicholas’s death? Or simply to say goodbye before disappearing forever?

The thought sat like lead in his stomach as he stepped into the cool night air.

He’d wanted to believe that Adele had left Evie for a better life.

Perhaps she returned to her home to live with family in France or to find a husband who would provide stability.

But the courtesan’s words painted a different picture entirely.

Now, Owen only saw Adele as a desperate woman making final arrangements before vanishing into London’s shadows.

The alley beside the gaming hall stretched dark and narrow. They were lit only by the occasional gas lamp. Owen had taken perhaps a dozen steps when a familiar voice emerged from the shadows.

“Interesting establishment for a married duke.”

Owen spun toward the sound. His hand moved instinctively toward the knife he kept concealed in his coat.

Felix stepped into the light and his usually amiable smile was nowhere in sight.

“Still following me, I see,” Owen said without surprise.

Felix moved closer wearing a grim expression. “Find what you were looking for?”

“What I’m looking for isn’t your concern.”

“Isn’t it?” Felix’s voice hardened. “When it involves my cousin, everything becomes my concern. Especially when her husband frequents brothels three days after making a scene at Morrison’s ball.”

Owen stiffened. He’d avoided Iris since… their intimate moment.

“My marriage is none of your business.”

“Your marriage affects Iris, which makes it my business.” Felix stepped closer. “So, I’ll ask again. What were you doing in there?”

Owen looked around, confirming they were alone. The last thing he needed was for this conversation to be overheard by the wrong ears.

“Drop it, Halston.”

“Like hell.” Felix’s lips curled into a snarl. “I heard enough from the doorway to know you were asking about someone named Adele. I can only assume she’s your mistress.”

“She’s not my mistress.”

“Then who is she?”

Owen weighed his options. Felix had already heard too much to be brushed off with lies. And despite his rakish reputation, he’d proven fiercely protective of Iris. Perhaps it was time to trust him with part of the truth.

“She’s Evie’s mother.”

Felix went very still. “Her mother?”

“The woman who left her on our doorstep. I’ve been trying to find her.”

“Why?”

“To ensure that she poses no threat to Evie’s future. To learn why she abandoned her child. To…” Owen stopped abruptly. He was unwilling to voice his worst fears.

“To find out if she’s still alive,” Felix finished quietly.

“Yes.”

They stood in silence. The sounds of the gaming hall filtered through the thin walls.

“Does Iris know you’re searching for the mother?” Felix continued.

“No.”

“Christ, Carridan.” Felix rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“You’re lying to her. Again.” Felix’s voice carried disgust. “How do you think she’ll react when she discovers that you’ve been hunting for another woman through London’s underbelly?

How do you think she’ll react when she learns that you are still planning romantic rendezvouses with Evie’s mother especially after whatever happened between you at the ball. ”

The reminder of the kiss at Morrison’s ball sent heat through Owen’s veins. Iris had been so warm and willing in his arms. Her soft cries of pleasure and the way she’d looked at him afterward had been a gift. It was like she’d given him something precious.

“I’m not involved with Evie’s mother. I never touched her. And nothing happened at the ball.”

“The hell it didn’t.” Felix’s laugh held no humor.

“It was a moment of weakness. Nothing more.”

“Was it?”

“What I want is to protect them—all of them. Iris, Evie, and Evie’s mother.” Owen turned toward the mouth of the alley. “It’s my responsibility. Anything else is irrelevant.”

“You have a woman who loves you despite having every reason not to. And you’re throwing it away because you’re too much of a coward to risk being happy.”

The accusation hit home with painful accuracy.

Owen was a coward. He was terrified of becoming his father and letting passion destroy everything he’d built. He was scared to death of trusting Iris with his heart, only to watch her turn it into a weapon.

“If you’re so concerned about my marriage, help me end this threat to Evie’s safety.”

“How?”

Owen hesitated, then made his decision. “Ask around about a French woman named Adele. Discreetly. If you learn anything, bring the information to me.”

“And then?”

“Then we ensure Evie remains safe. Whatever it takes.”

Felix studied him for a long moment. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

“I’m telling you enough.”

“Fine.” Felix straightened his coat with sharp movements. “But Carridan? When this is over, when Evie is safe and Adele is found, you’re going to have to decide what you want. Because I won’t watch you continue hurting my cousin. There is only so much pain I will allow you to inflect on Iris.”

He melted back into the shadows, leaving Owen alone with his guilt and the bitter taste of necessary choices.

Felix was right about one thing. Owen was running. He had been running since the moment he’d felt something more than duty when he looked at his wife.

But some things were worth running from. His parents had loved each other once, with a passion that had consumed everything in its path. Owen had spent his childhood watching that love turn toxic. He saw how desire could become possession, and how that need could become destructive.

Better to keep Iris at arm’s length than risk becoming the kind of man who destroyed what I’m planning to protect.

The memory of her face in the carriage rose unbidden. He’d seen how his words wounded her, but he couldn’t take them back.

She deserved better than a husband who saw threats in every shadow and couldn’t trust himself with her heart. She deserved someone who could love her without reservations and without the constant fear that passion would curdle into poison.

Owen walked through London’s dark streets, carrying the weight of his choices and the knowledge that protecting Iris meant breaking both their hearts. But heartbreak was survivable.

Destroying her the way his father had destroyed his mother was not.