Chapter 17
Late Night Searching
Bridget woke from her slumber. It was dark outside, and only the faint glow from the oil lamp on the chest of drawers on the other side of the room provided any illumination. It had been a small mercy that she had finally fallen asleep with so many problems being piled on her.
And now, she was awake again.
Bridget stared up at the ceiling, and she heard what had woken her: a faint mewling sound.
She would have thought nothing of it if her sister had not visited her earlier that day. No, in the darkness of the night, she was determined to find that naughty cat and let Margaret get on with planning her wedding. She got out of bed and fetched her long robe and bonnet, before retrieving the oil lamp.
Bridget crept out of the room and delved into the silence of the night. She walked quietly, avoiding putting too much of her weight on the floorboards and causing them to creak. She was not so much worried about waking someone as she was about scaring Mr. Peaches away.
She heard mewling again, and she stopped. She listened and heard the cat call out again and headed in that direction. She reached the back of the house and quietly stepped outside onto the veranda.
It was tranquil, with only the sounds of the lapping waves in the distance. She would have been afraid to be out alone if she were in London, but they were on the coast before the holiday season. There was no one in the surrounding houses, and it was not the sort of area that people stumbled upon.
When she heard Mr. Peaches meow again, she knew she was getting close and ventured toward the sound. She was ready to scold Mr. Peaches for sneaking out and being so naughty, but she knew the cat would not understand.
Bridget turned up the oil lamp to better see the way in the darkness. The moon was up there somewhere, but it was obscured by clouds.
“Mr. Peaches,” she whispered. “I have a treat for you. Pss, pss, pss, pss, pss.”
There was no meow or purr in return.
“Come on out, Mr. Peaches,” Bridget whispered, scanning the area.
“I’m right here,” a childish voice replied.
Bridget looked up and almost yelped when she saw the Duke holding Mr. Peaches in his arms.
“What did you do that for?” she demanded. “You scared the life out of me.”
“It was all I could think of to warn you I was out here,” the Duke replied, his face half-lit by her oil lamp. “If I had stepped up beside you, I would only have startled you more.”
“You may have a point,” Bridget relented, calming herself. “What are you doing out here?”
“I could not sleep,” the Duke replied. “It is still early for me, and I usually don’t fall asleep until much later.”
“Out chasing women?” Bridget asked.
“Or cats,” the Duke suggested.
Bridget watched Mr. Peaches in Nicholas’s arms. The cat was quite content to be held by him, and it rubbed its head against the Duke’s chin, purring contentedly. Bridget was pleasantly surprised to see the cat react in such a way to the Duke—she had always thought that animals were much better judges of characters than people.
“I must thank you for finding him,” she said. “He is Margaret’s cat, and she was quite worried about him. I was afraid that she might call the wedding off if the search for this naughty cat continued until then.”
“Well, it need continue no more,” the Duke told her.
She looked at the cat again, who was happy to be in the Duke’s arms and rubbing against him. Bridget shook her head a little.
“What is it?” the Duke asked.
“No, it’s just… I never expected you to be an animal lover or for animals to love you so much.”
“Well, that hurts, Lady Bridget.”
“No, I didn’t mean… I apologize, Your Grace. That came out wrong. Perhaps I never expected to see you with a cat in your arms. And Mr. Peaches does not usually take well to strangers.”
“So, his name is Mr. Peaches? I thought you were calling that into the night,” the Duke noted. “What does it suggest?”
“That cat taking to you so easily?” Bridget asked.
“Mmm.”
Bridget took a deep breath. “That you have some goodness in you.”
“Some goodness?” the Duke echoed. “You seem surprised. You have decided who I am before you even know me, and I am sure my reputation precedes me, but can’t a good person do questionable things at times? Or things that are questionable to others?”
“I suppose,” Bridget replied.
“I have never treated anyone unfairly,” the Duke told her. “I have not hurt anyone purposely. I am sure you would frown upon the things I have done, but I do them with a clear conscience. Do you not also strive for independence? Should you not get to do what you like as long as it does not hurt anyone?”
“I can’t disagree with your points, Your Grace. I strive to be seen as an equal to men in a world that does not view women that way, and I am sure I have done things that men might find disagreeable, but I have never set out to hurt anyone.”
The Duke stroked the cat’s head and then behind its ears. “Then we are not so different.”
“Perhaps not,” Bridget said.
It was all so confusing. She would never compare herself to the Duke, but she could only agree with his points. Did that make her more of a rogue than most people, or did she misunderstand who he was?
“He really likes you,” Bridget observed.
She was out alone in the darkness with a man, but she did not feel afraid. Nor did she feel he might try to seduce her. When she thought about it, he might have teased her, but he had been nothing but kind during their time together.
“And I like him,” the Duke said. “I have always liked cats much more than dogs. They are more independent, and they remind me a lot of myself.”
“Do you also like to be scratched behind the ears?” Bridget teased.
The Duke laughed, his chuckle echoing in the night. The waves on the shore were receding, and the tide was going out. In the morning, the water would be very far out but returning. Bridget looked up when she noticed something flying through the air out of the corner of her eye—perhaps a bat.
“Do you need to return to the house?” the Duke asked. “I can walk you if you like, and we can return Mr. Peaches to safety.”
“Perhaps I can stay out here for a while longer,” Bridget replied. “There is something freeing about being out here when no one else is, and I feel safe with you here with me.”
“Mr. Peaches was walking along a short stone wall when I found him,” the Duke said. “You can see the reflection of the moon on the water when it peeks through clouds from there. Would you sit with me a while?”
“Of course,” Bridget replied.
She watched the Duke and Mr. Peaches out of the corner of her eye as they walked. She still could not get over how much the cat had taken to the Duke and how tender the Duke was with the small animal. He could tame a horse as he rode it and care for a cat in his arms. The scene was so adorable that Bridget wanted to giggle.
Do I misunderstand everyone I meet? I must remember not to have preconceptions when I don’t want people to have them about me.
The Duke took off his jacket when they reached the wall and placed it on the stone. “Sit here. The night does not have a chill.”
“Thank you,” Bridget said, staring at him.
It was dark, and the only light came from her lamp, but it was as if she could see him clearly for the first time. She sat on the wall, happy for a thin layer of warmth to cushion her.
“I must thank you again for my horse ride earlier today. I needed to rest, and I could not. The ride out to the estuary helped to clear my mind so I could think a little straighter. I feel much better for it.”
“You are welcome,” the Duke replied.
Even his voice sounded softer at night, as if dampened by the darkness.
“I want you to know that I shall not repeat our conversation to anyone,” the Duke continued. “I know it was hard for you to talk about your father, and I understand you did not mean to tell me so much, but I will not tell a soul. You have my word.”
Bridget felt her heart beat a little faster. She didn’t want to talk about what they had spoken about or even acknowledge it, but she took some comfort in his words.
“Did you manage to solve all the problems presented to you today?” the Duke asked, changing the subject.
Bridget felt less nervous talking about that compared to her father, even if he was one of the problems she had to solve.
“You have found Mr. Peaches, and that has solved one of the problems. Another was solved very quickly, and a third will have to be solved later.” Bridget did not have to think about the conversation with her father until he returned to the estate or they returned to London. “I do not wish to deal with so many problems, but I want to help people at the same time.”
“I can understand that,” the Duke replied.
Bridget looked out at the reflection of the horizon on the water, a pale zigzagging strip of grey on the rippling water, the moon coming out for a while. She had swum in the cold waters and ridden her horse at speed. Both were freeing in their own way. Now, sat on a wall with the Duke, in the darkness, she found some freedom in that too. It made her heart beat quicker at the thought they might get caught, but it was also something she wanted to do to challenge convention.
Why can a man and woman not sit together alone and not have it mean anything other than they enjoy each other’s company?
“What would people say if they caught us out here like this?” Bridget asked.
“I wouldn’t care,” the Duke admitted. “And I am sure you don’t care much about people’s opinions of you.”
“I don’t,” Bridget confirmed.
“Besides, we have Mr. Peaches as a chaperone. Nothing will happen as long as he has his beady eyes on us.”
Bridget laughed, and her titters echoed into the night.
“We have our freedom, and Mr. Peaches should have his, too,” the Duke announced. He let the cat down and placed him on the wall between them.
“No, he might run.” Bridget reached for the cat, but the Duke held up a hand to stop her.
“He won’t go anywhere,” he assured her. “The more you try to tame a wild animal, the more it wants to run. If you show it that it can leave whenever it wants, it will find comfort in that. He will not desert us now.”
Bridget was not sure, but she held back a moment, ready to run after the cat if needed. Mr. Peaches stretched his back and shook his tail. He rubbed against the Duke, circling him and then coming back around to Bridget. He bumped his head against her arm, and she rubbed his head and back.
The cat walked onto the grass behind the wall and sniffed it before turning back around and returning to the wall. It sat between them and remained there, as if taking on the role of chaperone. Mr. Peaches stared out at the sea as if planning a grand adventure as soon as he could find a boat.
Bridget could not help but be impressed with how the Duke handled the cat.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“You shall have to find out,” the Duke replied.