Chapter 2
“Ihave an exciting announcement to make, my dear friends!”
A hush settled over the room as Bridget Carter, the Countess of Winslow, turned away from the polite conversation she was having with the other young ladies at the party and focused on her best friend, Katie Harland, Marchioness of Harris.
Katie’s smile was infectious as she looked back at everyone and raised her glass into the air.
“I am thrilled to announce that my husband and I are expecting our first child!” Katie exclaimed.
Bridget’s honey-brown eyes went wide as her heart skipped a beat.
Pain began to ebb into her jaw as she clenched her teeth together, trading her emotional pain for a physical one.
It was better to do so than to show her envy.
She had to be polite. She had to always be polite. Even when her heart ached.
Another friend, another woman two years younger than her—and married for less time—was pregnant.
At three-and-twenty, now married for five years, Bridget had nothing to show for it.
Nor did she believe she ever would, seeing as her husband had not touched her since their wedding night.
It was not bitterness that consumed her, though.
It was a sense of emptiness, of nothingness.
It was the realization that, unlike her friends who had found love with their husbands, she had not.
Bridget pushed such thoughts away and gathered herself quickly.
Now was not the time to dawdle on that. She raised her glass with everyone else’s, as she knew she was supposed to, and forced that smile she had learned to perfect so very long ago.
She joined the others in the shouted chorus of congratulations, and as she brought her glass to her lips, she tilted her head back and drained the last of the spirit completely.
“What joyous news!” Lady Petra crowed.
“Oh, happy day!” Lady Lydia Cornwall added.
One by one, the young ladies who had gathered at Katie’s for dinner and parlor games offered their praises, and by the time it was Bridget’s turn, she was struggling not to cry.
How long had she wanted a child? How long had she patiently waited for her husband to look at her and see a woman worthy of his love? Five. Long. Years.
I should be glad. He could have been cruel to me. Ignoring me is much better.
“Katie, darling,” Bridget rasped out, forcing a smile despite her misting eyes. “This is wonderful news. I am so very happy for you.”
Katie beamed at Bridget and lunged toward her, wrapping her up in a tight hug.
“Thank you, Bridget. You have no idea how happy this makes me,” Katie whispered emphatically.
No, I do not. But I really wish that I could.
Bridget shoved the aching thought away and gained control over her tears before Katie pulled back, and by the time the two women were face to face again, Bridget’s smile had become genuine.
She had accepted that she would not share a great love with her husband.
Or even a like for one another, for that matter.
And that was fine; she had never felt anything about him.
And yet… she felt a painful void every time she saw how happily married all her peers were.
“I am certain that this makes John quite happy as well,” Bridget offered.
Katie and the other young married ladies laughed politely.
“Oh, he certainly is,” Katie replied. “He is out with his friends celebrating at White’s.”
“Jeremy said he was meeting John at White’s,” Lydia said.
“Yes, as did Ambrose,” Petra added. “He said he was going to celebrate with a friend but would not tell me more. Now I understand why.”
“These men,” Lydia said with a sigh as she shook her head. “Always keeping their secrets.”
Needing a moment away from the chatter, Bridget did her best to slip away from the circle of women to refill her glass. Unfortunately, she barely made it to the servant holding the decanter of port before she heard Lydia call, “Bridget? Where are you off to?”
Bridget forced her plump, pink lips to once more spread into a polite smile as she looked over her shoulder at her friends.
“Oh, just a bit thirsty,” she said. Her smile dropped instantly as she turned back to the servant.
“Fill it to the brim, if you please,” she implored under her breath.
“Do not imbibe too much, dear,” Petra said, her tone laced with slight condescension. “You would not want to be in an improper state when you go home to your husband.”
“Petra,” Bridget quietly heard Katie chastise.
Bridget’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“What?” Petra asked as Bridget turned back toward them. “I am only saying. She is the last of us who has not yet had a child. I am sure coming home foxed is only going to delay the gratification that comes with becoming pregnant.”
Bridget suddenly wanted to disappear. Wanted to shrink to the size of a mouse and scurry out the door. She did not like where this conversation was heading. She also did not like that she was not at all sure whether her husband was actually home.
“Let her be, Petra,” Katie warned. “Bridget will have her children on her and her husband’s own time. Will you not, Bridget?”
Seeing as my husband has not touched me since our wedding night five years ago, I highly doubt such a time even exists, she thought bitterly.
Bridget shivered with disgust at the memory of that night.
She had gone to her marriage bed, divided between excitement and terror.
Unlike her friends, who all married noblemen in their late twenties or early thirties, her husband, Warren Carter, the Earl of Winslow, was twenty-seven years her senior.
With his age, she had foolishly assumed that he would handle her purity properly.
He had not. In fact, the experience had been so poor that for the first year of their marriage, Bridget had been thankful that he had not summoned her to his chambers.
Then the second year went by, with hardly a word or kind look passing between them, and her gratitude had turned to fear.
While it was true that she had not enjoyed their copulation, Bridget did understand that without it, she could not have what she was most looking forward to in her marriage: a child.
“We have plenty of time,” Bridget said, trying to sound as casual as possible with such a subject. “My husband has much he wishes to accomplish before we have children, and as a dutiful wife, I want to support such things.”
“Such a diligent wife you are,” Regina Parson cooed, joining the conversation.
Bridget stiffened, sensing a trap. Katie was her true friend, yes, but the others? She had never been quite sure.
“I try to be,” she answered carefully, then took a sip of her port.
“And I am sure that as a diligent wife, you support all of your husband’s efforts?”
If Bridget’s cheeks were not red before, they were certainly so now. The heat radiating from them made a bead of sweat form on her brow.
“As many as I am aware of,” she agreed.
“And being so aware as you are, where is your husband this evening, Bridget?” Lydia asked.
Bridget did not answer.
“All of our husbands are at White’s with John, celebrating the news of the baby,” Petra goaded with a condescending smirk. “Where is yours?”
“He has been quite absent as of late,” Regina pointed out. “I could not help but notice that he did not accompany you to last evening’s ball.”
“Or to the Alwrights’ garden party the weekend before,” Lydia added. “Busy man, is he?”
Shame flooded through Bridget as she felt herself become the object of ridicule. She did not have to answer. The others already knew. Gossip spread fast among the ton.
Bridget lifted her chin, trying not to appear as intimidated as she felt.
“He is… away on business. As I have stated, my husband has much to accomplish.”
It was a lie. She knew it as well as the women who were surrounding her like vultures did.
She had no idea where her husband was. Or who he was with.
Due to the carelessness he showed with his reputation, however, they—especially her—could predict that the person in question was a woman.
Most likely, one that men paid to be in the company of.
“And what does such business entail, I wonder?” Petra asked.
“The kind that makes money?” Regina asked.
“Or the kind that involves… the company of people?” Lydia piped up.
“Not just people, or so I have heard,” Petra said, raising a finger, “It is specifically women. Young women. Beautiful women.”
“Women who are… paid for,” Regina added.
“Not to mention the gambling,” Petra went on. “It is said that debtors have started gathering at your estate. That furniture and such were seen being carried out. Is that not troublesome to you? I do not know how I would cope, poor dear.”
Bridget blushed, trying to keep up with them all.
“I do not…” she stammered. “None of it is true.”
The lie came out small and helpless.
The three women smiled down at Bridget, who felt her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red. It was not the first time she had been privy to what was being said about her husband, but it was the first time people dared to tell her to her face.
“I believe I have had enough of such vile gossip for one night,” Bridget said, her voice strained and barely above a whisper.
“It is not malicious gossip. These are sensible questions,” Petra urged.
“Well, they are questions you should be asking of your husband,” Lydia added.
“I would be utterly scandalized if my husband’s ‘business’ revolved around women as yours seems to,” Regina stated.
“Utterly scandalized,” Petra agreed, shaking her head as she looked down at Bridget. “How ever do you stand it, given that he makes it so public?”
Unable to take the intense stares of the women around her—save for Katie’s, who just stared at her with open pity—Bridget drained her glass and set it down.