Chapter 10
Bridget had been awake since dawn. She lay sprawled across the bed like some forlorn heroine, waiting for her dashing hero to return.
Bridget’s lips tingled with the memory of her shared kiss with the Duke, and her face warmed.
She had kissed—well, she had kissed a man on the cheek before.
Bridget had always been rather proud of that; in her mind, that kiss on the cheek, shared in a dark library, had been a brave and scandalous act.
Now, having shared a kiss with His Grace, her small experience felt as insignificant as a flea. Heat spread through her body, its intensity growing with every heartbeat spent lingering on the kiss.
Fabric rustled. She recognized the sound of her lady’s maid moving about, preparing Bridget’s gown for the morning. With a sigh, Bridget sat upright. Her heart raced, thoughts of His Grace swirling about her head. “Good morning!” she called.
Amelia appeared at the foot of Bridget’s bed. “Good morning, my lady,” she said. “It is a rather exciting day.”
Amelia was so cheerful, even in the early morning. Bridget forced a smile. It was unkind of her to think, but she found it just a little vexing that Amelia was so joyful shortly after waking.
“Is it?” Bridget asked.
“Indeed,” Amelia said. “Or have you forgotten that your enchanting husband-to-be is to spend the day with you?”
Well, Bridget supposed that the Duke of Wheelton’s visit would make the day exciting. She sighed and fell back against her pillow, grimacing. It was not as if the man had come to court her, after all. He wanted to assess her, to determine if she was worthy.
“I had forgotten,” Bridget admitted.
Perhaps that was not entirely true. She had rather hoped that the man might have changed his mind.
“Well,” Amelia said. “I shall ensure that you are suitably prepared to meet him. He sent word this morning that he wishes to meet you at the lake where you first encountered one another.”
“Oh.”
That gesture would be almost romantic, if it had not been coming from such a frustrating and unlikable man. Well, not unlikable. Bridget was finding that she did like him just a little, as loath as she was to admit it.
“It will be a splendid outing,” Amelia continued, clearly oblivious to Bridget’s lack of enthusiasm. “It is fortunate that he was your rescuer. He is such a handsome man, if it is not too bold to say.”
Bridget sighed. “Well, I suppose no man can be composed entirely of flaws.”
Amelia cast her a confused look, which Bridget purposefully ignored.
She swept the bedclothes aside and clambered from the bed.
Bridget’s eyes flickered to the window, the curtains spread wide, and imagined leaning forlornly against the glass, awaiting some truly noble and pleasant man to rescue her.
“Are you…unhappy with the match, my lady?” Amelia asked.
Bridget sighed. The lady’s maid was trying to comfort her, and she supposed that she ought to be charmed by that.
“It is a match,” Bridget said. “Nothing more. I cannot say that I am especially delighted with His Grace, but I doubt any other man will offer. I have discussed this extensively with Elias already.”
Amelia wisely said nothing.
Bridget washed her hands and face in silence before returning to Amelia, who presented her with the chosen gown for the day.
It was one of her favorite gowns, lavender and trimmed with delicate pearls and fanciful floral patterns of white lace.
The garment showed her delicate figure to its best effect, and Bridget had often delighted in the attention that she drew when wearing it.
“I suppose I will appear appropriate,” Bridget said dryly.
“More than appropriate, my lady,” Amelia said. “I daresay His Grace will be unable to look away from you.”
“Wonderful,” Bridget said, seating herself before the vanity. “All the better to gaze at me like an animal he wants to purchase at market.”
Amelia laughed, the sound anxious. “What a pointed comparison, my lady.”
“It is the reality of my situation,” Bridget said darkly. “The man has no real affection for me, and this marriage is entirely a matter of convenience. That is assuming that he continues to find me suitable, of course.”
“I am certain that he shall, my lady.”
Bridget bit the inside of her cheek, considering that. “Well, I do not intend on making it easy for him,” she said. “It is insulting enough that he has reason to doubt my suitability.”
Not truly insulting, for Bridget knew all too well why her suitability might be questioned. Still, the man might have acted in a more respectable manner. It was not as if he did not know of her scandals, after all. What else could he be searching for?
“His Grace could not have meant all that,” Amelia said soothingly. “Perhaps he merely misspoke or wishes to learn who you are as a person before he commits to a marriage. Maybe he wants to determine if you are a woman with whom he might fall in love.”
Bridget shook her head. “If that was it, he would not be so eager to change who I am.”
Amelia hummed and rubbed her fingers with rose oil, carefully coating Bridget’s natural ringlets with the substance.
The soft, floral scent drifted around her, and Bridget’s chest tightened.
How many times had Amelia done this before her before she was to meet some fine gentleman?
The memory of her previous Season burned painfully.
Those had been exciting days, seated before Amelia and flushed with excitement, for Bridget had known that she would have an enjoyable day and night ahead of her.
She had known that she was desirable, that every head in the ton would turn to her as she entered.
The eligible bachelors would descend upon her like a flock of swans, eager to gain her attention first. But not if she married His Grace.
“I would not relinquish romance so easily,” Amelia said hesitantly. “There must be love for someone like you, my lady, who so earnestly wishes for it.”
“One would think,” Bridget said.
Amelia fell silent again, gently coaxing Bridget’s curls into order.
“But,” Bridget continued. “I have a plan, which is to prove myself unsuitable to him. I am certain that he only wishes to marry me out of some misguided, foolish sense of honor. If I show him that marriage to me will cause more damage than benefit, he is certain to change his mind.”
Amelia inhaled sharply. “Truly, my lady?”
“Indeed.”
“But how will you manage that? Aside from that little mistake with Lord Fourton, you are the perfect lady,” Amelia said, gesturing to the mirror.
Bridget winced at the mention of his name.
She supposed that Amelia was right, though.
Bridget was a proper lady. At least, on the surface.
Her beauty had always been a source of pride for her, and she doubted that any amount of neglect or little effort could make her appear so hideous that His Grace would not want her.
“Maybe I will shove him into the lake,” Bridget mused.
Amelia gasped.
“By accident, of course.”
“My lady—”
“But then, Elias would be furious,” Bridget continued, undeterred. “I would rather dissuade the Duke without bringing my brother’s wrath upon me. Do not tell Elias we discussed this.”
“I will not, my lady,” Amelia said.
Bridget was not certain she believed the young woman, but it was not as if Bridget had anyone else with whom she could confide in.
Her sisters were both with their husbands, and Lord Arlington and Lady Susan, at least, had made it clear that Bridget was no longer suitable company for respectable young ladies.
“Your discretion is appreciated,” Bridget said.
She stood, and Amelia helped dress her, smoothing out the wrinkles of the lavender gown. Bridget bit the inside of her cheek, as she gazed at herself in the mirror. A wild thought occurred to her: that she might refuse to wear this gown and sully it with his gaze.
“If I cannot shove him into the lake, I must thwart him in some other matter,” Bridget mused.
“I would not know, my lady,” Amelia said. “I have never tried to dissuade a man’s affections.”
“There is nothing affectionate about him.”
“I am sorry, my lady.”
“Everyone is,” Bridget said. “Even the man who intends to marry me is sorry that he must.”
Amelia sighed softly, as Bridget donned her slippers and left her bedchamber. Doubtlessly, Elias would want to have breakfast together and insist that everything was fine. She was beginning to dread meals with her brother.
Bridget paused at the stairs, listening to the soft sound of the staff moving about, out of sight but never far.
A lump rose in her throat, for the townhouse had—until recently—been much louder.
Catherine’s robust laughs and Dorothy’s gentle chiding had filled the floors.
It was so quiet without them. Unnatural.
With a small sigh, she descended. Elias appeared at the foot of the stairs and smiled. “My sister,” he said.
“My brother,” she responded dryly. “I hear that we are to join His Grace at the lake today.”
“We are,” Elias said. “A fitting choice.”
“Why would you say that?”
Elias offered his arm, and Bridget reluctantly put her hand at the crook of his elbow. He was only leading her to breakfast, and she understand too clearly what this genteel behavior indicated. Her brother was feeling guilty and trying to make amends without admitting any wrongdoings.
“I would have thought you would be pleased,” Elias said. “He wishes to meet you at the place where you first made your connection.”
“You mean where he had to rescue me from an embarrassing situation?” Bridget asked. “Very romantic, Elias.”
“I thought so,” he said.
She could not say if he genuinely thought so or if he was simply choosing not to respond to her admittedly dismal response.
“And I am proud of you,” Elias continued.
Bridget laughed in disbelief. “For what?”
“For accepting this,” Elias said. “I know that it is not easy for you.”
She blinked, taken aback. Did he believe that she had accepted her fate? Bridget had not realized that she was so capable of deception. If she was very fortunate, she might even be able to convince His Grace of her unsuitability without drawing Elias’s ire or attention.
“It will become easier,” Elias continued.
“What will?”
They entered the dining hall and took their usual places.
Bridget’s gaze swept instinctively over the vacant chairs, where Catherine and Dorothy had always sat.
If her sisters were not already married, would they have agreed with Elias, or would the three of them been enough to persuade him against the match?
A knot of guilt twisted in her chest, as she remembered how little she had appreciated Dorothy’s efforts to secure her a match during the previous Season.
“Well, everything will be easier,” Elias said. “After marriage, you will learn what it means to manage a household of your own and to be a suitable duchess. At first, there may be some difficulties, but I know you will overcome them.”
Bridget forced a smile. “I suppose we will see.”
“We will.”
Bridget took a sip from her cup of mint tea. Once, she had been told that mint was effective at settling anxious nerves, but she doubted that all the mint tea in Britain would be sufficient for calming hers.
“Do you suppose His Grace is anxious about meeting with me?” Bridget said.
She shivered, thinking about the dark intensity in the Duke’s eyes and the heat that coiled in her body every time she thought of him.
“Perhaps,” Elias said. “I will admit that I do not know much about the man, but I cannot recall him ever showing interest in a young lady. It would be reasonable for him to feel some measure of hesitation.”
He did not act like a man who had never experienced interest in a young lady. On the contrary, he acted as though he had felt interest in many young ladies. Perhaps even some who were disreputable.
“But I am confident that you will be everything he is searching for in a wife and duchess,” Elias said. “You have everything that the man might want. You have good breeding and all the skills expected of a wife.”
Clearly, Elias saw something in Bridget that the Duke did not. If Bridget was really as exceptional as Elias made her out to be, His Grace would not feel the need to train and assess her. He would accept her as she was and love her.