Chapter 20
When Bridget smiled at him from the doorway of his study, Lewis straightened his spine and clasped his hands over his desk, making clear with his posture that he was the master of this house.
That fact should have been apparent to anyone, but he suspected that the young miss was plotting against him.
She seemed to be an inexhaustible well of mischief.
“Did you desire something, my lady?” he asked.
She curled her body around the doorframe and watched him with bright, sparkling eyes. The mid-morning sunlight swept through the window across the room. Bridget looked nearly angelic, her red-blonde hair like a cloud of fire surrounding her delicate face.
Her smile widened. “I only wished to see what you might be doing, husband of mine.”
Lewis did not believe her for an instant.
“Managing the Dukedom,” he said dryly.
“That sounds…” she trailed off. “Quite unromantic.”
“Much of it is. Did you imagine I would spend my days slaying dragons and riding a white, majestic steed into battle?”
Bridget sighed forlornly. “I might be allowed to dream.”
He snorted. “Do you not have enough tasks with which to occupy your time? You are a duchess now.”
“I have been very diligently tending to all my duties as the Duchess of Wheelton,” Bridget said primly. “I feel that I am entitled to a small respite.”
Lewis arched an eyebrow, finding it difficult to believe that she had already so quickly found her place in the household. They had only been married a week, and there must be more pressing matters for her to attend to than torment him in his study.
“And you have chosen to use your time to prevent me from fulfilling my ducal duties,” Lewis said dryly.
Bridget smirked. “Perhaps you might learn something from me.”
“Oh?”
“I have completed all my tasks, while you still labor over yours. You might learn how to be more efficient.”
Somehow, he doubted that Bridget had managed to complete all her duties as a duchess because she was more efficient than him. Lewis did not know enough about women’s work to know for certain, though.
“You are too optimistic,” he said dryly.
“Clearly.” She heaved a deep sigh and slowly stepped away from the door. Bridget walked to him, her hips swinging in a manner which seemed deliberate. “What is it that has so enraptured your attention, husband mine?”
“Tenants’ complaints.”
“Fascinating.”
“You are welcome to review them in my stead,” Lewis said. “I am certain they would be content with a duchess’s response as well as my own.”
“I will refrain. I am certain that my replies would not be to your liking.”
He caught the flash of a challenge in her eyes, as if she was daring him to be contrary and to argue that she might offer responses which were as elegant as his own. Lewis clenched his jaw, his mind working quickly.
Bridget is playing with me. This is another scheme of hers.
Lewis turned his attention to the papers but was unable to resist a quick glance at Bridget’s face, as she reached his desk and placed her palms flat on the polished rosewood.
“I find it difficult to believe that your papers are more appealing than I am.” Her voice pitched high in what Lewis surmised Bridget thought was a seductive tone. She did not entirely succeed in achieving that, but Lewis still found that her closeness set his blood aflame.
“I do.”
Lewis was fortunate that she could not see his trousers, or the lady would know he was lying.
It occurred to him that he was her husband and could possess her right then and there if he so desired.
He could consummate their marriage over his desk, and no one would think ill of him for it.
Indeed, most men would have already consummated their marriage to such a lovely, young woman.
But he was planning for the future. It was not enough to marry Bridget. He must mold her into a proper wife, which necessitated denying her some pleasure until she proved that she was worthy of being the Duchess of Wheelton.
“And what if I take your papers?” Bridget asked. “Then, you will be forced to pay attention to me.”
Her slender fingers inched forward along the polished wood, as if she intended to seize the documents without warning.
Maybe the young woman’s plan was to vex him so thoroughly that he broke.
Lewis wondered if such schemes had been effective against Elias.
The man had always been far too indulgent with his sisters.
He was brilliant with his Dukedom and spineless where his sisters were concerned.
“I would think that you were behaving like a child,” Lewis said. “I suppose that is the penance I must pay for marrying such a young woman.”
“What an unkind thing to say to one’s wife!” Bridget cried.
He glanced up, just as she put an offended hand to her chest. Lewis’s eyes fixed upon her generous bosom. As frustrating as Bridget might be, he doubted that he could have found a more beautiful wife in all of England.
“You are interfering with my work,” he said, lifting his eyes to her face.
Bridget smirked. “Am I?”
She was trying to be frustrating! To what end?
Lewis stared at her for a moment, trying to understand why his wife might be trying to vex him when he had made it apparent that he intended on training her to be a perfect wife. Should she not be behaving more properly than this?
“Yes,” Lewis said. “And you know it. What are you playing at?”
“Why, nothing!”
“Somehow, I do not believe you.”
“What reason could I have for lying to you?”
Bridget’s smile never wavered. The woman was so obviously proud of frustrating him, and the matter was made all the more irritating because Lewis could not discern precisely what her motivation might be.
There were some in the ton who had dismissed Bridget as immature, but he sensed that there was something more to her, that there were depths he had not yet found.
She was being frustrating on purpose, for some secret reason. But not without one.
“You are fortunate to have such a patient husband,” Lewis said. “Are you aware of that? Most men would have already seen fit to discipline you for your presumptions.”
His palm twitched. The thought was quite tempting, especially when Lewis remembered how readily Bridget’s body had surrendered to him.
He had nearly come undone himself when he guided her to pleasure after their wedding breakfast. Following that encounter, he had retreated to his own bedchamber and done something quite shameful.
As his wife, Bridget ought to be tending to his needs. The selfish woman did not realize that she denied him as well by her refusal to be the wife he needed.
“Discipline me?”
Her eyes widened. Lewis could not decide if her surprise was genuine or feigned.
“Indeed,” he said.
“I do not know what you mean.”
“Given your brother’s lackadaisical handling of you, I am certain you do not,” Lewis said. “I suggest you find some means by which to occupy yourself, or you shall soon learn precisely what I mean. I doubt you will still be smiling then.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I do not know about all that.”
Lewis frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Bridget grinned and leaned forward, providing Lewis with a rather attractive view of her full breasts, which threatened to spill forth from the confines of her lace-covered bodice. “Perhaps you ought to show me,” she said softly. “And I will tell you if I enjoy it.”
Understanding dawned. “You are hoping to repeat our encounter in the banquet hall,” he said. “Are you hoping to frustrate me so much that I am forced to pleasure you?”
Bridget shrugged, her expression unabashed. “You have given me no reason for why I should not try.”
“Because pleasure is a reward,” he said. “Distracting me from my work is not worthy of being rewarded.”
“But asking about the Dowager Duchess was?” Bridget asked innocently. “I would have thought that you would be embarrassed by that, but I suppose not.”
“Careful,” he said. “You are wandering onto dangerous ground.”
Her green eyes blazed with triumph, and it took all his strength of will not to pull her over the desk and discipline her soundly.
Lewis’s blood roared in his ears, as he imagined bringing his palm against that lush bottom, covered only with a thin layer of muslin material.
He imagined Bridget writhing and bucking against the desk, enjoying the pain and aching for pleasure.
But she was still new to being his wife.
He must be careful with her, and already, he had erred by giving into his own selfish impulses and in teaching her that misbehavior might be rewarded with pleasure.
Lewis could not blame her for behaving so disgracefully when he had credited such in the past.
“Why should I be careful?” Bridget asked. “As your wife, I ought to know about the Dowager Duchess, and I have not even met her.”
Lewis inwardly bristled. His wife made a fair point, as loathe as he was to admit it. “You shall meet my grandmother when the time is right and not before.”
“When will the time be right?”
“When you have learned to be a proper wife,” Lewis retorted. “I imagine that will be in five years, if not more.”
“How cruel!” Bridget exclaimed. “I know how to behave like a lady; you know. There is no reason for you to treat me as dismissively as you do.”
“I cannot believe you have the gall to say that when you are distracting me from my work,” Lewis said.
Her cheeks became awash with color, so much that Bridget’s entire face was as red as a rose. “God forbid I wish to speak with my husband!”
“Do not pretend that your intentions are as noble as that!” Lewis scoffed. “I know you have some other motive. You are not nearly as clever as you believe, my wife.”
“And you are not nearly as unaffected by me as you claim, my husband!” she shot back. “I noticed how you looked at me in the banquet hall. You looked like a starving man, and although I do not understand it all, I have some inkling of what you may want.”
Lewis stiffened, torn between anger and begrudging admiration. “You know nothing.”
“I do,” she insisted. “I know more than you may think.”
“No,” he said. “You know precisely what I think you do.”
That was what made Bridget dangerous. She knew what set Lewis’s blood ablaze, but she knew not why. Doubtlessly, she had some romantic notion that his punishment had been an act of love, simply because it brought her pleasure.
“I am not one of your fictional heroes,” Lewis continued. “I suggest that you cast such thoughts from your mind.”
His words seemed to penetrate deeply, for she stiffened her spine and set her shoulders. Bridget’s chin tipped up in that familiar defiance, and she nodded curtly. “I have already done so. I know that you are no hero. If anything, you are the villain of the story.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” she said. “If it was not for you, I might have found my love-match. I might be wed right now to a man who truly loved me, rather than one who only tolerates my company.”
“I very much doubt that.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis wished that he could have taken them back. Even if they were true, they seemed far too cruel to fling at his new, young wife.
“Do you know the difference between men and women?” Bridget asked. “You are allowed your errors, but I will only ever be punished for mine.”
Without waiting for an answer, Bridget turned on her heels and stormed from the room. The instant she was gone, Lewis let out a low sigh. He should not have said that.
Worse, Bridget was right. His errors would always be forgiven more readily than her own, simply because Bridget bore the misfortune of being born a woman. And yet—
Those errors had brought her into his path, and despite his earlier reservations, Lewis could not deny that he was just a little unexpectedly charmed by his new wife.