Chapter 27
“My husband has gone to see the Dowager Duchess,” Bridget informed her sister. “He visits her at this same time every day without fail.”
It had been two weeks since the garden party and Bridget’s wonderful reward in the carriage, and ever since, she had been thinking about her conversation in the garden with Lewis.
Any hopes she had about the garden party bringing them closer together were destroyed almost at once, for he had said nothing more to her, aside from pieces of polite conversation, since returning.
Without her husband’s assistance, Bridget had been forced to find answers on her own, which was how she had learned that Lewis went every day to visit the Dowager Duchess, as she had suspected.
Regrettably, she had been unable to learn much more, for both Lewis and his staff were reluctant to speak of the woman.
“Have you met the duchess?” Dorothy asked.
They were seated together in the drawing room, sharing tea and biscuits.
“No,” Bridget said, sighing. “He says that he will let me meet her when the time is right, but he has given no indication of when that will be. It is very suspicious.”
“It is,” Dorothy replied, furrowing her brow.
“I imagine he is trying to hide the cruel conditions in which he keeps the poor woman,” Bridget said.
For a moment, she was the heroine of a novel once more. She imagined bravely sneaking into the Dowager Duchess’s townhouse at night and discovering the imperiled woman locked in the attic. They would flee into the night, and—
“Do you really believe that?” Dorothy asked quietly.
“It is a possibility,” Bridget said.
But did she really believe it? That question was more difficult to answer. Her husband was cold and mysterious, but he had also proven himself capable of being kind and open.
“If you are in danger,” Dorothy said slowly. “You must tell me. If anything about His Grace makes you uncomfortable—”
“No,” Bridget interrupted. “I do not really believe that he is unkind to his grandmother. I think it is as he says.”
Maybe.
She was mostly certain that the Dowager Duchess’s health was truly poor, but it was difficult to imagine Lewis being so devoted to the Dowager Duchess that he visited her every day.
Dorothy sighed deeply. Her eyes took on a distant look, as if her thoughts were an ocean away.
“I shall meet her soon,” Bridget said. “Lewis has said so, and I have no reason to disbelieve him. He has always been honest about everything else.”
Admittedly, the only real promise he had made her—aside from their wedding vows—was that he would give her pleasure if she was a proper duchess, and he had fulfilled that promise.
“Very well,” Dorothy said. “But if you ever have any doubts, I implore you to tell Elias or me. If you are unsafe or unhappy, you can always stay with Elias or Gerard and me.”
“I know,” Bridget said. “I can always depend on you and my brother.”
A warmth swept over her. Not everyone had the family that she had, and maybe Bridget could have been more grateful for her siblings in the past. They loved her and wanted the best for her.
“I have other obligations this morning,” Dorothy said. “I fear it is past time for me to depart.”
“I understand,” Bridget said, standing.
Dorothy also rose, her hand going to her stomach. Her condition was impossible to miss, and Bridget imagined that she would soon withdraw from polite society.
“If you need anything from me, do not hesitate to ask,” Bridget said awkwardly.
It was strange to make such an offer to Dorothy, who had always looked after her, but it felt like the right thing to say.
“I will.” Dorothy smiled in the same soft, maternal way that she had always used. “It was good to see you, Bridget.”
Bridget walked with Dorothy to the foyer and bid her sister farewell. Then, she stood in the doorway, watching as the footman assisted Dorothy into the carriage.
Once Dorothy was gone from sight, Bridget frowned and considered the state of her marriage. At present, Lewis was visiting the Dowager Duchess and based on what Bridget had observed from previous visits, her husband would return soon.
There was nothing preventing her from going to see the Dowager Duchess on her own while he was gone.
What was the worst that could happen if she went to visit the Dowager Duchess, after all?
The old woman already knew that Bridget was married to Lewis, and Bridget would be able to assuage all her fears about the Dowager Duchess potentially being mistreated.
Smiling, Bridget stepped into the townhouse, her eyes snapping to the maid, who happened to be standing nearby. “Have the carriage prepared. I wish to visit the Dowager Duchess.”
Rather than obeying, the maid inhaled sharply. Her face went pale, and her curtsey was careless. “His Grace would advise against going to visit his grandmother.”
“I am certain he would,” Bridget said, tipping her chin defiantly upwards. “Nevertheless, I will see her.”
The maid bit her lip. “Your Grace, I must beg you to reconsider. If His Grace learns—”
“I will accept the consequences,” Bridget said, waving a flippant hand. “Have the carriage prepared and ask the kitchens if we have any honey cakes. I should like to present the Dowager Duchess with one.”
The maid’s face was still hesitant, but at last, she nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
Bridget smiled, a little smug. It did feel rather nice to be the Duchess of Wheelton and managing her household, with only her husband to answer to.
By the time Bridget arrived at the Dowager Duchess’s house, she was much more confident in her plan.
Bridget knew that she was not a perfect person, but before her scandals, she had generally been liked.
It would not be difficult to charm the Dowager Duchess, especially given how little company she received.
If Bridget was disallowed guests, she would be desperate to speak to anyone.
The door was opened, and Bridget blinked in surprise as she met the startled gaze of a plump, middle-aged woman. “You are not expected,” the woman said.
What an improper welcome! Bridget’s smile faltered, but only for an instant. “I am the Duchess of Wheelton,” she said, “and I have come to see the Dowager Duchess.”
“Your Grace!” The woman dropped into a startled curtsey. “You should not have presumed to—”
Bridget stepped around the woman, her eyes sweeping over the foyer. It was a wide, open space decorated with vases of pink roses and a red and gold tapestry hanging on the opposite wall.
“Her Grace does not want visitors,” the woman said. “Please, you must leave.”
“Nonsense!” Bridget exclaimed. “I am married to her grandson. It is long past time that we met.”
“You do not understand,” the woman insisted. “Her Grace is unwell.”
Bridget frowned, her patience beginning to fray. This was the second time that she had been denied entrance!
“I know,” Bridget said. “And I brought her a cake! I did not bake it myself, so I know it is safe to eat.”
Footsteps thundered on the stairs, and an elderly woman appeared at the top of them. She was spindly and frail; her thin, white hair hung in faint wisps around her soft-featured face. “Did Lewis forget something? What is this noise?”
“Good afternoon, Your Grace. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you,” Bridget said with her best manners, taking a step forward.
The woman’s eyes widened, and she curled herself around the banister. She looked like a mouse caught in the claws of a vicious predator, but Bridget could not imagine why anyone would be threatened by her. But this—
This woman was ill, and Bridget had made everything worse.
Ice crept into Bridget’s veins and clawed at her chest. Lewis had not been exaggerating the Dowager Duchess’s condition, and Bridget had clearly distressed this woman.
The urge to flee rose within her, but she found her feet rooted to the floor.
She had to fix this. Somehow, she had to calm the Dowager Duchess’s nerves once more.
“I am Bridget,” she said, forcing her spine straight and her shoulders back. “I am the Duchess of Wheelton, and I have—”
“Where is Lewis?” the woman yelled.
Bridget froze.
“Lewis!”
“Your Grace.” The woman, who had greeted Bridget at the door, hurried up the stairs. “Your Grace, why not return to bed? You usually take a brief respite during this time.”
“But she is here, Mrs. Clove!”
Bridget stared at the Dowager Duchess, her mind moving sluggishly.
The Dowager Duchess truly was ill, like her husband had said.
Bridget took a deep breath that shuddered in her chest. “I apologize for upsetting you,” she said.
“I just had to see the grandmother of my husband. I know that you were a large part of his upbringing, and you took such good care of him. He is….an honest man. Trustworthy. Maybe a little chivalrous, even.”
Her Grace’s eyes darted to Bridget’s face. She still had a wild, hunted look, but at the mention of Lewis, something nearly imperceptible changed in her posture. The Dowager Duchess uncurled her fingers just a little from the banister, her hand visibly shaking.
“I learn more about my husband every day,” Bridget said. “With each new finding, I realize that I want to share more and more of my life with him...I’d like to be part of your life, too.”
The woman who had denied Bridget entrance previously, Mrs. Clove, took a careful step to the Dowager Duchess. “Stay calm, Your Grace.”
“And I want to be a part of your life, too,” Bridget said. “Lewis speaks so highly of you.”
The Dowager Duchess slowly nodded. Although her body still trembled, her eyes remained fixed firmly on Bridget’s face. The woman was no longer yelling, at least. That was an improvement, however slight it might be.
“Bridget!” Lewis’s voice filled the room like a crack of thunder.
Bridget started at the unexpected sound, her head snapping in the direction he had come. Her heart plummeted. Lewis should have already returned to the townhouse, but he stood before her. His face was hard; his brow furrowed in anger.
“What are you doing here?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“I—I came to see your grandmother,” she stammered. “I—I know that I—”
“You should not have come!” Lewis snapped.
“I know,” Bridget said, “but I—at least, she is feeling better!”
Bridget’s eyes darted to the stairs, where the Dowager Duchess still stood. Mrs. Clove had reached her and was attempting to coax the frail woman up the stairs and back the way that she had come.
“Your definition of better must differ significantly from mine!” Lewis snapped, storming to Bridget.
She stared at him with wide eyes, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Lewis had never been well and truly angry at her before. A chill traced the path of Bridget’s spine. She swallowed hard and forced down all the guilt she felt in favor of the smoldering fury in her chest.
“This would have never happened if you had been honest with me!” Bridget retorted. “If I had known, I could have planned another way of doing this, but you would not tell me anything useful!”
The Dowager Duchess let out a sharp sob.
“You will never set foot in this house again!” Lewis commanded. “When are you going to realize that you are a married woman and the Duchess of Wheelton? This behavior is entirely unbecoming!”
Bridget’s eyes burned. She blinked, trying to force away the tears.
“You cannot continue to behave like a child!” Lewis exclaimed. “You cannot continue to be so callous and reckless, as if you are the only person in the world who matters!”
The world was too much, and Bridget did not know what to do. No one had ever yelled at her before. No one had ever made her feel so small before. With no other options, she turned on her heels and fled.