Chapter 35
Lewis sat in his grandmother’s drawing room, noting with a twinge of guilt that there were flowers everywhere. The flowers reminded him of Bridget’s handiwork, which in turn made him think of her innocuous request. She had only wanted him to stay with her throughout the night.
“Is Bridget going to join us?” his grandmother asked, clasping her hands in her lap.
Lewis took a sip of tea to delay his answer.
He had dreaded her asking. Would a fit follow when he finally told her that he did not know?
A familiar wave of frustration swept over him, made worse when he remembered Bridget’s soft insistence that he should not feel guilty for being frustrated by his grandmother’s behavior.
“I do not know,” Lewis conceded. “She left early this morning, and I have not seen her since then.”
His grandmother frowned. “And you have no notion of where she went?”
“No.”
“Highly unusual.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow. “I live my life, and Bridget lives hers. I try to give her some measure of independence.”
“But to not know where she is.”
Lewis sighed. “If you must know, we quarreled last night. I assume that she left early to avoid me, and I cannot fault her for that. Even the staff do not know where she has gone. She insisted on leaving unaccompanied and would tell no one where she was going.”
“Unaccompanied?” His grandmother’s face twisted into an expression of horror.
“Bridget is a willful, young woman. She goes wherever she likes, regardless of the consequences,” Lewis said. “Impropriety has never been of any particular concern to her.”
“Impropriety? That is your concern?”
Lewis sipped his tea. “Of course.”
That was not entirely true. Bridget’s distraught face had kept him awake throughout the night. He had never even returned to his bed. Instead, Lewis had passed the night in his study, resisting the impulse to return to Bridget and apologize for his refusal.
“The streets of London are no place for a young lady to wander unaccompanied!” his grandmother exclaimed, wringing her hands. “What if some harm befalls her? There are so many villains roaming the London streets who would rejoice in bringing harm to some innocent, young Duchess!”
Lewis sighed. “I am certain that Bridget is fine.”
His grandmother was right. London could be unsafe for an unaccompanied young lady, but somehow, he could not imagine any harm befalling Bridget. She was too clever to come to harm.
“How can you be certain?” his grandmother asked. “You do not even know where she went! It is midday. She could be hours away from London! Oh!”
His grandmother leaped to her feet and paced the floor. Her entire body quivered like a leaf caught in a gale.
“I promise that Bridget is fine,” Lewis said. “There is much that you do not know about her, Grandmother. I have only let you see the best of her.”
His grandmother halted abruptly and stared at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
Lewis sighed. “My wife is selfish and scheming. She cares for no one except herself.”
“That is untrue.”
“It is entirely true,” Lewis argued. “Ever since we married, Bridget has tried to ruin our marriage. If she is not upset and avoiding me, she is doubtlessly conspiring against me.”
“You are wrong.”
“Am I?” Lewis asked bitterly. “I know my wife far better than you do, Grandmother.”
The woman put a hand to her forehead and inhaled deeply. She slowly lowered herself into her chair. “I have become fond of Bridget.”
“I know you have.”
Lewis’s chest twinged with guilt. His grandmother had no acquaintances or friends except for Bridget, and Lewis risked taking away the one person who had made his grandmother’s life a little brighter.
“I am not finished speaking,” his grandmother said, fixing him with a stern expression.
Lewis blinked, taken aback. He sipped his tea and said nothing. His grandmother had not used that tone with him in a very long time.
“You might know Bridget better than I do,” she continued. “However, you also do not give Bridget her due. She is kind and patient and thoughtful.”
“She is good at pretending to be those things.”
“You do not really believe that,” his grandmother said.
“At least, I hope you do not. Bridget has not only come to visit me every day, but she has visited on days when you have not. She helped me redecorate. For the first time in decades, I have changed how the townhouse looks without being consumed by feelings of distress!”
A lump rose in his throat. “I know you want to see the good in her, but I cannot.”
“Then, that is very unfortunate,” she said. “Bridget is a good woman, and she is good for you.”
Lewis rubbed his temples. “You are right,” he conceded. “But I am right, too. If Bridget could have our marriage annulled, she would do it in a heartbeat.”
“Maybe you should give her a reason to stay,” his grandmother said. “Have you considered that? If Bridget is conspiring against you, maybe you deserve it. You are so eager to find every flaw in her, but you seem less enthusiastic in acknowledging your own shortcomings.”
Lewis inhaled sharply. “I see.”
His grandmother’s eyes softened. “I say this from a place of love, Lewis. It is always easier to find faults in others than in ourselves. But Bridget has been good for you, and if you give her something to want, she will not feel the need to scheme anymore. You are a likable man. Is it really so difficult for you?”
“Evidently,” he muttered. “Look…maybe you are right. When Bridget returns, I will speak to her and try to make amends.”
“I do not think you should wait,” his grandmother said. “I think you need to search for her. She might be in danger.”
“I doubt that very much,” Lewis said. “And if Bridget is not in danger, she will be angry with me for pursuing her.”
His grandmother fiercely shook her head. “You cannot leave Bridget alone out there!” she exclaimed.
The woman’s face flushed with color, and she twisted her fingers in the skirts of her gown.
“I am not,” Lewis said, knowing that she was quickly working herself up to a fit of hysteria. “Do not be distressed. If Bridget was upset, she likely went to her siblings. I imagine she will be with Elias, painting herself as the sympathetic victim of our marriage.”
Such a characterization might be warranted. After all, Bridget had only made a small request for kindness, and he had denied her that. If he wished to calculate who was most at fault, it would be himself.
“You must find her,” his grandmother said. “I—I will not be able to rest easy until you have found her!”
“I promise I will,” Lewis said.
“At once,” she insisted.
Lewis had no intention of going to Bridget immediately. Given their argument the previous night, it only made sense that Bridget would need some time to herself. He would give her just a little longer before starting his search.
“At once,” Lewis lied.
His grandmother’s hands curled so tightly over the arms of her chair that her knuckles were white. “Please, do. And once you have found her, I suggest you apologize for everything you have done. I—I cannot bear the thought of not—of not ever…”
“Of not ever seeing her again,” Lewis said, as his grandmother’s voice faltered. “I know.”
He had been a fool. Even if he wanted to refrain from showing Bridget any affection for fear that she might become unnecessarily involved in his life, he could not undo the damage that was already done.
His grandmother adored his wife. There was no turning back or rewriting the past. Bridget was a part of his life and more involved in it than he ever thought she would be.
Lewis stood. “Good afternoon, Grandmother.”
“You must let me know when you have found Bridget.”
“I will,” he said. “I promise.”
He would wait until nightfall. That would be sufficient time for an angry wife to calm herself, and if he had not seen Bridget by then, he would send the servants to make inquiries at Elias’s townhouse. If they returned without knowledge of Bridget’s whereabouts, Lewis would decide what to do next.
Still, he knew his grandmother would not accept that answer, so he took his leave. Lewis shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered down the street, trying to decide what he ought to do in the meantime. Perhaps he ought to veer toward home? Then, he would know if Bridget had returned.
But he did not fancy the thought of returning to his townhouse and waiting for her. He was not a brooding man, and even if he was, men were not supposed to brood over their wives.
Especially not when they were in a marriage of convenience. Instead, he went to his usual club and took his favorite place near the fire. He settled in with a glass of brandy held carelessly in his hand and fixed his gaze across the room.
I am brooding, Lewis thought. Just here instead of at home.
“Wheelton.”
Lewis was so lost in thought that he started at the address. George stood just a few feet away, watching him with a bemused expression.
Lewis sighed. “Morington, join me. I can tell you all about the woe that is in marriage.”
Unlike his grandmother, who was convinced that Bridget had met with some great misfortune, Morington would listen to reason; he would agree with Lewis and be a sympathetic ear.
“I can scarcely imagine what woes might arise from being joined to such a lovely wife as yours,” Morington said, dropping into the chair beside him.
“You do not know her well,” Lewis said dryly. “We have quarreled, and now, she is avoiding me. And my grandmother is convinced that Bridget can do no wrong.”
Speaking with Morington was much more freeing than conversing with his grandmother. Lewis did not feel the need to soften his words, for fear of upsetting his friend.
Morington’s lips twitched in amusement. “Your wife is too well-liked.”
“Evidently.”
“I cannot say that I am surprised. Before the scandals, your wife was one of the most desirable women of the ton,” Morington said.
“Well, I have gotten more than I promised.”
Morington frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
Lewis considered his friend for a long moment. Then, he downed the rest of his brandy in a long gulp. The spirit burned his throat and filled his chest with warmth. “I like her more than I am comfortable with.”
Morington raised an eyebrow. “Oh.”
“It is disastrous,” Lewis said. “A flight of fancy, nothing more than that.”
“If it was a flight of fancy, you would not be here looking so morose,” Morington said. “When you say that you like her, do you really mean something else?”
“Careful,” Lewis said.
Morington slowly nodded. “Well, my friend. Most men would be delighted to learn that they love their brides of convenience.”
“I did not say I loved her.”
“I know.”
Lewis rubbed his jaw and shook his head. “I do not,” he insisted. “And even if I did, it would be the worst possible outcome for the both of us.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Lewis trailed off. “Because I cannot love someone like that. Bridget is unpredictable and spirited, and—and what if I could not love her forever? She would be devastated.”
Morington stared incredulously at him. “Do you love her now, though?”
Lewis worked his jaw for a moment, trying to find a neat way to evade the question.
When he found none, he conceded with a helpless shrug.
“I do not know. I am fonder of her than I anticipated being, but that does not mean I love her. I have never loved anyone before, and I have no intention of starting with Bridget.”
Morington laughed. “Bold of you, my friend, to assume that you have any control over who you love.”
“Don’t I?”
“You do not,” Morington said. “No one does. And if you want my thoughts on the matter, I think you should be open to whatever it is you are feeling. You deserve something wonderful in life, and if you have a chance to find true love, you should take it.”