Chapter 26
Lewis had never spoken so frankly about his family before, and his openness made Bridget smile affectionately at him. She was not in love with him, of course; she would not even say that she particularly liked him, but rather the pleasure that he had proven capable of giving her.
But hearing him speak in that soft, contemplative voice awakened something within her.
It was maybe fondness of a kind, though Bridget preferred not to linger too much on what that might mean.
Her husband was speaking to her like a normal person, who had family and friends and worries, and she ought to use the moment to gain an advantage.
That was all she was doing. Truly.
“When will I be allowed to meet her?” Bridget asked. “I imagine that will be soon.”
Lewis drew in a sharp breath of air, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “Do you?”
“Of course. I assume that you must hesitate because it is difficult for her, but I should still meet her. Now that we are married, she is my family, too. You told me that I must wait five years, but that cannot be true. No man would make his wife wait five years to meet his relations.”
To that, he had no answer. Lord Boutwell and his mother approached, and Bridget inwardly winced.
While the encounter with Lady Susan had not gone as badly as it might have, she still had no desire to encounter all her old acquaintances and former would-be suitors.
Even if her reputation could not be harmed as much as it once had been, Bridget had realized that being in society again was simply strange.
It was as if she had become a different woman, one who no longer belonged in this world.
“Your Grace,” Lord Boutwell said, inclining his head.
“Boutwell,” Lewis said.
Lord Boutwell’s eyes flickered to Bridget, who fought to keep her pleasant expression.
After the scandal, he had not wanted her, and she refused to let herself be hurt any longer by his rejection.
At least, outwardly. It remained to be seen if Bridget could do anything about her feelings, which were still raw and tender.
“Congratulations on your marriage,” Lord Boutwell said.
His mother nodded. “You make such a charming pair.”
It was an innocuous statement, but Bridget wondered if it reflected the lady’s honest opinion of them. Bridget’s scandals seemed to linger in the air between them all, like the sky before a lightning strike.
“Thank you,” Lewis said.
“I am very fortunate to have met my husband,” Bridget said.
She kept her tone even and polite, so she was the very picture of a poised lady. Of course, that had nothing to do with wanting to please her husband. It was only that their conversation made her a little less willing than usual to fight.
There was no real significance in her behavior. Certainly, it had nothing to do with any tender feelings directed towards him.
“You are very fortunate,” Lord Boutwell said.
Bridget tried and failed to decipher his expression. Did he regret casting her so callously aside? Or was he truly happy for her? Did he really believe that she was fortunate?
“I believe that I am more fortunate than she,” Lewis said. “Bridget is proving to be an exceptional wife and duchess, not that I expected anything less of her.”
Bridget’s face warmed in the glow of his praise, despite her fierce efforts not to be moved by this man or his words.
“Indeed,” Lord Boutwell said. “I regret that I must end our conversation so quickly, but my dear mother has expressed a desire for lemonade.”
“Of course,” Lewis said.
Lord Boutwell and his mother continued along the path in the opposite direction. Bridget sighed, and some of the tension bled from her shoulders.
“You are doing well,” Lewis murmured.
“Thank you.”
As they continued their walk, Bridget’s eyes drifted to her husband’s handsome face. He looked a little softer than usual, a change that was perhaps prompted by their conversations about their friends and loved ones.
“About your grandmother,” Bridget said, determined not to let Lewis avoid the matter, as she suspected he wanted to.
“You will meet her when it is appropriate,” he said.
“But when is appropriate?” she asked. “That could mean any time.”
“You will have to trust that I know the best time.”
“What about the rumors? Are you unkind to her?” Bridget paused, considering him more carefully. “Do you pay her visits? Is that where you always go in the afternoon?”
He clenched his jaw, and the softness that she had seen in his eyes suddenly vanished. “Enough,” he said.
“What do you mean enough? It is customary to meet your husband’s relatives!”
“Most relatives are well,” he shot back. “My grandmother is not ready to meet you yet! Leave it.”
He did not sound unkind about it, which was confusing. Rather, Lewis presented his grandmother’s condition as if it was…
Something genuine. Something that he feared, and Bridget could detect no malice in his words.
Bridget pressed her lips together and fought down the irrational frustration rising within her.
Perhaps it was unfair of her to expect so much from her husband, but it was also entirely reasonable for her to be concerned about the rumors of him mistreating his only surviving relative!
Refusing to answer her was absurd behavior, and with a jolt of concern, Bridget wondered if her husband was hiding some malicious deeds.
That was the rational cause for him to deny her knowledge of his grandmother, after all.
They continued their walk in silence, Bridget’s mind awhirl with possibilities. Beneath all the curiosity and frustration was something perilously close to dismay, though. They had been talking to one another, truly talking to one another, and discussing more personal matters than they usually did.
For a moment, she had thought even a little kindly, a little sympathetically, for this man and what sounded like a lonely life.
And he had ruined it all with his refusal to truly answer her questions.
It was as though all Bridget’s progress during the past several minutes had been swept away, like debris left on the beach.
Once the garden party was at an end, Bridget and Lewis entered their carriage, which would take them back to their townhouse.
Before her scandals, Bridget would have been eager to discuss the event—what all the ladies were wearing, who the most eligible gentlemen were, and the gossip that she had heard over the course of the party—but all those matters seemed trivial now when she had no one to talk them over with except her stoic husband.
This man did not care about any of those things, and Bridget’s pride was still a little wounded that he had refused to finish answering her entirely reasonable questions.
Was it petulant of her to refuse to speak at all?
Of course. But he would not answer her questions, and he had no interest in any matters that she might wish to converse about.
The carriage jolted into motion. Lewis cleared his throat. “You behaved appropriately at the garden party.”
“Did I?” she asked. “Given how you refused to answer my questions, I assumed you would chastise me for wanting to know about you.”
“There are some questions which I do not wish to answer just yet,” he conceded. “However, that does not mean that you are in the wrong for asking them. Someday, I would be happy to give you the answers that you seek. I simply do not know when that will be.”
“I see.”
“And I do not expect perfection from you.”
Somehow, she had a difficult time believing that, for she seemed to be doing everything wrong.
“Otherwise, you were quite well-behaved. You were quiet and polite, and you controlled your emotions, even when you were speaking to Lady Susan,” Lewis said. “I am proud of you.”
Her face warmed, and she raised her fan to hide the faint smile playing over her lips.
Bridget swallowed hard, trying to force away the warmth and light that filled her chest at being praised by him.
Since when did she care about receiving his approval?
She was not some desperate maiden, who would swoon from the smallest amount of adulation!
“You were so well-behaved that I believe you deserve a reward for your efforts,” he added.
Her pulse leaped at the thought. “Truly?” She scarcely dared to breathe.
Maybe she did care just a little about his approval if he was finally going to grant her the pleasure that she had wanted for so long.
Or if not that, maybe she might use the opportunity to learn more about this enigmatic man.
She wondered when she had begun thinking about him as such, as someone who she might wish to know.
Bridget hesitated in lowering her fan. She did not want to appear too eager.
Looking so visibly delighted at finally being given the pleasure she ached for would be admitting defeat, and Bridget had never been good at that.
He sat on the seat opposite her and leaned forward, placing his hands on her thighs. Bridget swallowed hard and lowered her fan. She was torn between arguing with him and saying nothing. What was more important, her pride or her pleasure?
Bridget collapsed her fan and placed it on the seat next to her as his hands stroked her thighs. His palms were warm, and his touch sent her blood roaring in her ears. “Please,” she said, decision made.
Bridget would worry about her wounded pride later. At the moment, the pursuit of pleasure presented a far more compelling course of action.
“Of course, my wife. Shall I show you something that you have not seen before?”
The lump in her throat made speaking impossible, so she nodded her assent. He seized a handful of skirts and hauled them upwards. “Lift your hips,” Lewis ordered.
She did, and he pushed her skirts up past her waist. Bridget’s bare buttocks sat against the seat, and she drew in a sharp gasp.
Lewis took her hips and coaxed her into arching her back.
The position was disgraceful, and her sex quivered at being so exposed, both to his eyes and the cool air that swept over her.
He spread her thighs wider, and Bridget’s stifled a groan.
She dug her fingers into the fine upholstery of the seat in an effort to brace herself, but already, her body was tight and taut with anticipation of the coming pleasure.
Bridget feared that if he touched her even more than he already was, even for a heartbeat, she might come entirely undone.
Her slipper-clad feet barely balanced on the edge of her seat.
“My beautiful duchess,” Lewis murmured.
With his hands grasping her hips, he lowered his head between her thighs. An anxious cry escaped from between Bridget’s lips, as his warm breath ghosted over her core. She watched with rapt attention, as he opened his mouth.
“You cannot possibly—” Bridget’s words of surprise were soon lost in a shriek of pleasure, as his tongue worked between her folds. “Oh, you—”
She gasped, incapable of more than broken and incoherent strings of words.
Bridget had never imagined that a man could bring such pleasure with his mouth, and her hips bucked from the seat.
He was merciless, matching her every movement with his mouth.
Wetness gathered between her legs, and Bridget clawed at the seat, desperate to maintain purchase.
It was nearly impossible with the uneven streets of London, which sent the carriage jolting with even the smallest movement.
Each crack and hole in the road sent shocks of pleasure coursing straight to her core.
Bridget’s legs trembled, as her husband worshipped her with enthusiastic kisses and licks.
At last, his lips pressed against a wondrous place at the top of her sex, and Bridget’s muscles grew taut. Her breath came in helpless pants.
She cried out, as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. Black spots dotted her vision, leaving her wonderfully disoriented. Bridget felt like a star that had come to life in the sky without warning. Lewis smirked at her, but Bridget had no desire to chastise him for such a smug expression.
“Is…is there more?” she asked.
Bridget’s eyes darted to the large bulge outlined by his trousers. What would it feel like when he was inside her? Her walls pulsed with need, her body aching for his.
“Not today. We are nearly home, and you will need to make yourself presentable.”
Bridget’s face was hot, and when she looked down, she found that her flush spread all the way to the tops of her breasts. She squeezed her damp thighs together, the proof of her attraction obvious to anyone who would know where to look.
She worked her skirts down, making herself decent once more, and he chuckled. “Keep being my good duchess,” he said in a sultry voice. “And there will be more rewards for you.”