Chapter 1
“Can you believe it? She has returned!”
Bridget Leedway’s face grew hot. Her green eyes snapped to the scandalized speaker: Some lady, whose face was partially concealed by her open parasol.
She seemed to notice Bridget’s gaze, for her eyes took on a new gleam—one of delight—and she hurried along. Her companion had the grace to look a little embarrassed, as though she realized that this behavior was untoward, but she offered no defense to Bridget.
Their paths crossed for but a moment, and the ladies were gone a heartbeat later, continuing in opposite directions through Hyde Park.
“Soon, the Season will begin, and everyone will find some new scandal with which to occupy their attention,” said Dorothy. “I promise.”
Bridget cast a sideways glance towards her elder sister and felt a small spark of guilt.
The previous Season had been Bridget’s first, and she had not been kind to Dorothy.
While her elder sister had meant well, wanting to guide Bridget through the dangers of ill-intentioned suitors, the advice had been disregarded.
Bridget had resolved to be her own woman, and it had…
Well, it seemed as though the entire ton remembered how poorly it had gone.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” Bridget said, “and enjoy the Season.”
Following the scandal, she had retreated to the countryside to stay with Catherine, their other sister, and her husband. It had been enjoyable enough but mostly too peaceful. Bridget had longed for the beauty and life of London.
“It will be nice to have the company,” Dorothy said, her hand lowering seemingly unconsciously to her stomach, which was large enough that it was obvious even through her loose gown.
Many ladies who were with child would have already retreated from polite society, but not Dorothy.
Bridget suspected that her sister’s new brazen streak had something to do with her husband Gerard Layton, the Duke of Greenway.
He had once been a notorious rake and responsible for a seemingly endless litany of scandals, but he had been forgiven.
The ton was kinder to men’s vices than women’s, though.
“It should not be long now,” Bridget said.
Dorothy cast her a puzzled look.
“Until the baby,” Bridget clarified. “A few more months.”
“Indeed.”
The sisters continued their walk, the whispers plaguing their every step.
“She has some nerve showing her face again!”
“Who do you imagine will want to marry her now?”
“No one.”
“Well, someone might. Her brother is a Duke, after all.”
“Someone desperate.”
“Someone poor.”
“Someone ruined even more than she is.”
Bridget inhaled, trying to focus on the sweet smell of spring flowers and recently fallen rain, but that was insufficient for silencing the whispers all around her. The cruel gossip beat against her eardrums like a symphony.
“Would you like to return to the townhouse?” Dorothy asked.
Bridget took a shaky breath. “Do you want to?”
Dorothy furrowed her brow. Bridget knew her sister well enough to realize that she was thinking about how to spare Bridget’s feelings, rather than trying to decide if she wished to continue their promenade or not.
“I am a little fatigued,” Dorothy conceded at last. “Perhaps we can stop by the usual bookstore on our way home?”
There was the guilt again, mingling with frustration. Bridget knew that her sister’s offer was really for her benefit.
“Lady Susan said that Lady Bridget was in the midst of an amorous congress.”
Bridget glanced at the speak and grimace. “Traitor,” she muttered.
“Do you mean Lord Arlington?” Dorothy whispered as they passed by the haughty marquess. He locked eyes with Bridget and held her gaze which only served to embolden her.
“Yes,” she said in a tone filled with derision. “He is downright despicable.”
“Come now,” Dorothy soothed. “I know how it must have hurt you when he withdrew his attentions last Season, but surely you do not pine for him still.”
Bridget snorted. She continued to glare at the man who had spent many hours chasing her around London ballrooms last spring only to taunt her mercilessly a few months later. “I would not marry Lord Arlington if he were the last gentleman alive.”
Dorothy tsked quietly. “Dear sister, if he means so very little to you, I wonder why you take this opportunity to provoke him.”
“Because he revels in my suffering,” Bridget said through gritted teeth. “He knows that I was smitten with Lord...Lord Fourton.” Her heart ached as she forced herself to spit out that scoundrel’s name. “He...he…”
“Do not speak of that man publicly.” Dorothy placed her hand gently on Bridget’s forearm. Immediately, Bridget felt both cautioned and comforted. “No good can come of reliving his painful rejection.” She squeezed Bridget’s arm lightly. “It will not do to dwell on what came before.”
Before Bridget could decide how to reply, Dorothy released a tremendous sigh—as if she had been holding her breath throughout the entirety of their conversation. Bridget looked up to see Gerard standing beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree.
“There is my husband,” Dorothy said, sounding relieved.
Indeed, Bridget spied Gerard just ahead, standing in the shade of a large oak tree. He gestured animatedly with his hands, seemingly in a delightful conversation with Lady Everleigh, a widow of some fifty years, and a young, fair-haired lady.
“Gerard!” Dorothy exclaimed. She quickened her pace, as she approached her husband. From how she behaved, one might have thought that her husband had been away for years, rather than for only an hour.
A feminine laugh split the air, and Bridget tore her gaze away from her sister, who had at last reached the embrace of her doting husband.
Beyond the tree under which Dorothy and Gerard stood, there was a lake.
A few members of the ton were gathered around it, enjoying delicacies and lemonade in the spring sunshine.
One figure stood out, though, and that was Lady Susan.
Lady Susan, who claimed that there had been an amorous congress. How would she know? Lady Susan had not been there that night. Bridget clenched her jaw and curled her hands into the skirts of her pale, yellow gown.
Their eyes met, and Lady Susan smiled.
Scarcely thinking about the consequences, Bridget crossed the expanse of grass and approached the edge of the lake. “Why, Lady Bridget,” Lady Susan said.
She was all smiles and honeyed tones.
“Lady Susan,” Bridget said through clenched teeth.
A gaggle of lords and ladies stood nearby, whispering to one another. They stood too far away for Bridget to hear them properly, but there was no doubt about what—or rather, who—the topic of their conversation might be.
“I had heard that you arrived in London, but I did not really believe it,” Lady Susan said. “I had thought that you might remain in the countryside for—well, in truth—quite longer than you have.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Bridget said.
“Thoughtful?”
“To be so concerned about when I would return,” Bridget explained. “Unless you mean to say that your concern stems from some unkind motivation?”
Lady Susan’s smile thinned. “Well, I need not remind you how the previous Season ended.”
“No, you do not,” Bridget replied coolly. “So why mention it at all? I am certain there must be more pressing matters in the world than my behavior nearly a year ago.”
“One might think,” Lady Susan said. “But I feel the opposite is true. If you are hoping to attend soirees and balls, it is only appropriate to warn people, is it not? What if you capture the affections of some respectable man? He ought to realize the true character of a woman whom he may wish to court, and I would not want some young lady to damage her own reputation by associating with you.”
“As you are now?” Bridget asked.
“I make this sacrifice for the greater good,” Lady Susan said. She lifted her hand that was covered in a thin pair of kid gloves and laid it over her heart. “And besides, you approached me. Everyone saw it.”
Bridget took a ragged breath, trying to force her racing heart to calm. Lady Susan produced a charming smile then as she withdrew her hand from her bosom and opened a lace fan, seemingly enjoying Bridget’s growing frustration.
“I made a mistake,” Bridget said. “I will not deny that.”
“Indeed,” Lady Susan said flippantly. “It would do you no good to deny something that everyone already knows about.”
“They do not already know about it!” Bridget snapped. “You are telling people that I committed a greater wrong than I did.”
“Am I?” Lady Susan asked as she fluttered the fan daintily. “Can you prove that?”
Bridget straightened her spine, fury coursing through her like a mighty river. She was not prone to anger, but this woman awakened such ferocity within her that Bridget found herself powerless against it.
“Why should I be asked to prove the truth? I was there. You were not,” Bridget said. “It is as simple as that.”
“Hardly. You might well lie to salvage your reputation.”
Bridget shook her head. “No.”
“And the only person who can corroborate your account has fled to the continent,” Lady Susan continued. “Who knows when he will return?”
Bridget flinched at the oblique mention to Lord Fourton.
“Besides,” Lady Susan continued. “I do not believe the truth matters much. If you were willing to let Lord Fourton dishonor you in one way, who is to say what else you might do when no one is watching?”
A lump rose in Bridget’s throat.
“I am to say,” Bridget said. “Nothing else occurred.”
“So you say,” Lady Susan said, waving her fan dismissively. “I am tiring of this conversation, Lady Bridget. We are returning to ground that we have already covered.”
Bridget paused. It would be wise to end the conversation there and return to her sister, but—
She could not do this. She could not remain silent while Lady Susan implied such salacious things and spread such terrible rumors about her.
“I was alone unchaperoned with him,” Bridget admitted. She straightened her spine and looked directly at her accuser. “That is all. But I do wonder about something. If you are so pure and perfect, how would you have any notion of what might occur between a man and woman when no one is watching?”
Lady Susan’s face reddened, and Bridget allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.
“Moreover,” Bridget continued, “I must wonder what manner of woman delights in speaking of such things. That is a rather unusual preoccupation for a respectable woman, Lady Susan. Is there something you wish for the ton to know about you?”
Without warning, Lady Susan jolted forward. A sudden force struck Bridget’s shoulders, and she careened backwards. She dimly realized that the other woman had swatted her with the fan and sent her falling. Bridget struggled to find purchase with her slippers, to no avail.
With a sharp yell, Bridget fell backwards and into the lake, the impact of her body striking the water filling her ears.
Warm water soaked through her gown, all the way through her stays and chemise, with quick efficiency.
Bridget gasped, forgetting in her confusion that she was entirely submerged.
Water plunged mercilessly into her lungs, as she struggled.
She kicked, her legs becoming tangled in her skirts and petticoats.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as her hands brushed the lakebed.
She struggled, trying to force herself to the surface, but with every passing second, more water seemed to sink into her clothes.
Bridget’s skirts were like a deadweight, seeking to keep her down.
Her jaw hurt from the effort of keeping her mouth closed, and her chest ached.
Panic rose within her. How long had she been underwater? She could not find the surface. She could not, and she—
Someone must have noticed that Lady Susan had pushed her into the pond. Someone must—
The sound of water crashing jolted through her ears, and through the water and debris of the lake, she caught the blurred outline of a man. He seized her arm and hauled her upwards. Bridget suddenly found herself weightless, and as she broke the surface of the water, sound struck her awareness.
“Bridget!” Dorothy. That was her sister’s voice, high-pitched with worry.
Bridget dug her nails into the grass and dirt of the bank, clawing her way out of the water. She coughed, her chest and throat aching. Her eyes burned, as she blinked back water. But who had rescued her?
Bridget turned her head, and it seemed as if the entire world froze in place. She gasped, the sound loud and sharp, as she beheld the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life.
He had not removed his jacket before diving in after her, and his sodden clothing clung tightly to his impressive figure, emphasizing his broad shoulders and chest.
His face was a thing of beauty. Bridget’s eyes trailed up the line of his strong jaw to his chiseled cheekbones and his dark blue eyes, which reminded her of sapphires. His hair was as black as night, and as droplets of water made trailed down his forehead, Bridget swore that they were stars.
A warmth settled into her cheek, and it took her a long moment to realize that he had moved forward and cupped her jaw.
“Are you all right?” he asked. His eyes glittered with concern. “Breathe, my lady.”
Her breath shuddered awkwardly in her chest, and she had the wild thought that she would do anything this man asked of her. A giddiness filled her whole being as she stared at her rescuer.
Had it finally happened? Had her dream at last come true? Had she fallen in love with this gallant stranger all at once?