Chapter 2
Her heart hammered against her ribs, and an unfamiliar heat stirred to life between her thighs.
Bridget swallowed hard. Her clothing stuck uncomfortably to her, especially her chest. Bridget’s breasts seemed suddenly too tight in the confines of her stays, but she could not precisely say why she felt that they were.
The man’s eyes lingered over her, darting downward. He could gaze right down the bodice of her dress, something that sent a tremor of delight burning through Bridget’s core. She bit her lip, stifling a moan.
He scowled. “Well, what a fine twist this is! My clothing is ruined!”
He dropped his hand from her cheek, leaving a profound coldness behind. Bridget stared at him in disbelief, as he climbed to his feet. Her romantic illusions were promptly shattered.
She had never before wished so fervently for a man to have said nothing at all.
“Apologies for nearly drowning,” Bridget said dryly. “If I had realized it would be such an unfathomable inconvenience for you, I would have refrained.”
He scoffed. “An expression of gratitude would not be amiss, my lady.”
“I do not see the need,” Bridget retorted. “Gratitude is for saviors who deserve it.”
Admittedly, that comment sounded a little nonsensical even to her own ears, but Bridget knew what she meant. Men who were chivalrous and well-mannered deserved gratitude—not vain men who showed more concern for their clothing than for imperiled young ladies.
“Well, maybe you should not have dived in after me.” She kept her gaze fixed on the infuriatingly handsome man, even as she stumbled to her feet. “Then, you would have spared your clothing.”
“That was not an option either,” the man said, his jaw tight. “I was the closest to you, and if I had let you drown, it would have reflected poorly on me.”
Bridget’s face grew hot. Had he really just said what she thought he had? Was this man claiming that he had rescued her only out of fear for keeping his good reputation?
“Oh, poor you!” Bridget exclaimed. “With an attitude like that, I am surprised you even have a reputation to diminish.”
He scowled. “With a mouth like yours, I imagine your reputation is also in tatters.”
It was, but hearing him say it made her blood boil.
“Are you always this lacking in charms?” Bridget asked. “Or is today a special occasion?”
“Strange. I was going to ask you a similar question.”
“Your rebuttals are lacking in ambition,” Bridget shot back. “Thus far, you have only volleyed my own words at me. Perhaps you ought to find your own.”
“You presume you are worth the effort,” the man said.
It took all Bridget’s strength of will not to let her jaw drop. “It is quite remarkable how you made this rescue entirely devoid of romance!” she snapped.
“Oh! Bridget!” Dorothy exclaimed, joining them. Her husband Gerard followed, lingering back a little.
“I see you have met His Grace,” Dorothy said.
His Grace. This man was a duke, then.
And rather lacking in any sort of grace! Bridget thought.
It was a little ridiculous of her, but she could not decide if her dislike stemmed more from his dismissive attitude or from his ruining her fantasy. A man rescuing a lady from drowning certainly ought to be the beginning of a beautiful romance, rather than this frustrating encounter!
“Greenway,” the Duke said. “It has been some time.”
That was an absurdly formal address. Bridget did not know if that meant the men were long-time acquaintances or if this Duke was just uncommonly informal.
Suddenly, Bridget realized that they were not alone. The ton had gathered around them, watching and whispering. Lady Susan looked especially smug, and the victorious gleam in the lady’s eyes made Bridget wonder if Lady Susan already planned to twist this into her favor somehow.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Dorothy said. “For saving my sister.”
“If you really wish to thank him, you ought to send him banknotes for his clothes,” Bridget said.
“Do not trouble yourself,” the Duke said.
“It seems we should,” Gerard said. “After all, if clothes are a concern to you…”
The atmosphere became tense, like the sky before a coming storm, and Bridget shifted uneasily.
Although somewhat reformed, Gerard still reminded her of a rake.
He was cheerful and enthusiastic, a little salacious with Dorothy when he thought no one was paying him any mind, and generally a presence of good will and energy.
But this was something else. He and the other Duke looked at one another as if they were engaged in a passionate, silent war that was being fought entirely with brittle smiles and hard stares.
Bridget took a step backward, meaning to move toward her sister, when her foot slipped from beneath her. The stranger reached for her, and in the same instant, Bridget darted away from him. She did not care if she fell. Any misfortune was better than accepting aid from that man.
She crashed onto the ground, landing hard on her buttocks. The sound of her fall was accompanied by the thin trill of fabric tearing, and cool air rushed up Bridget’s wet legs. Her petticoats and chemise were suddenly visible, and with a dull sense of dread she realized what had happened.
His Grace had tried to catch her and grasped her gown, which had torn. Now, the gathered ton had a most indecent look at her partially bare legs, and that wet, white material was doing little to conceal the part of herself that remained covered.
“Bridget!” Dorothy exclaimed.
Dorothy seized the torn material from the Duke’s grasp and practically threw it over her sister’s exposed skin all while looking fantastically flustered.
“I suppose Lady Bridget does not even need privacy…” Lady Susan whispered, the insinuation clear.
Bridget’s eyes burned with tears, as Dorothy leaned towards her. “Do not listen to them. Come on, Bridget,” she murmured.
“Will he marry that ruined girl?”
“He touched her!”
“What a start to the Season!”
“I was drowning!” Bridget shouted.
The whispers stopped, but the anticipation of more hummed beneath her skin.
“While you were all talking, His Grace rescued me,” she continued, her voice quivering.
“Yes,” Gerard said sternly. “There is no scandal here, except that the rest of you are evidently so apathetic that you would let a woman drown in a lake!”
Bridget could not bring herself to look at the crowd to see if Gerard had successfully cowed anyone.
“Give me your coat, dearest,” Dorothy whispered. “We need to cover her.”
“I disagree that it is not a scandal, Your Grace.”
Lord Beaumont. Once, he had been interested in courting Bridget, too.
“Do you?” Gerard asked, giving the man a murderous look.
“Yes,” Lord Beaumont said.
“Gerard,” Dorothy said insistently.
Gerard removed his coat and tossed it to Dorothy. Bridget thought about diving into the lake once more. Maybe no one would rescue her, and she could become a mermaid and just swim away from them all.
“Come on,” Dorothy whispered, draping the coat over Bridget’s shoulders.
“Talk if you must,” the unfamiliar Duke said. “I will not apologize for saving a life.”
Dorothy put her hand at Bridget’s back and helped her stand. Bridget pulled the coat closed over herself, the hem nearly dragging the ground. At least, Gerard would not care if his clothes suffered a little dirt.
Unlike that man.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Dorothy whispered. “Again.”
He jerked his head into a sharp nod. “It is a pity people have no decency. Good day, Your Grace. Greenway.”
The man sounded so utterly unaffected, as though they had merely encountered one another on a promenade and were parting ways. How did he manage that?
Maybe he already had a poor reputation, so this recent scandal was nothing to him.
“Good day,” Gerard said.
Dorothy put an arm around Bridget’s shoulders and led her through the crowd, which parted before her. Bridget forced down the lump that rose in her throat, as they stared and leered at her.
She was ruined. Again.
And it was only partially because of her own actions.
Bridget blinked back tears and smothered a sob. She had not even attended the first event, and already her Season was ruined!
“Oh, Bridget! Do not cry,” Dorothy said. “It will be fine. I promise.”
“How can you possibly promise that?” Bridget exclaimed. “Everything has gone wrong, and it was not even my doing this time! This is unfair!”
“It will be fine,” Dorothy said.
But Bridget could discern Dorothy’s expression from the corner of her eye, and her sister did not look nearly as convinced as her voice seemed to imply.
“It is bad,” Bridget said, her throat so thick that it was difficult to speak.
“We will think of something,” Gerard said. “Perhaps, if Wheelton and I both insist—”
“Wheelton?” Bridget asked.
“Lewis Thorn, the Duke of Wheelton,” Dorothy said. “Your…rescuer.”
“My begrudging rescuer,” Bridget muttered.
They had reached the park entrance, where Gerard’s carriage waited.
Bridget sighed in relief, longing for the concealment that the coach would offer.
Even if she was ruined, at least she would be away from the prying eyes of the ton for a little while.
Safe in the coach and safe in Gerard’s townhouse.
“But he did rescue you,” Dorothy said. “That is the most important thing.”
Gerard’s footman snapped to attention and bowed. “Your Grace.”
“Home, if you would,” Gerard said.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The footman opened the coach door, and Gerard shifted around, helping Dorothy climb the step.
Dorothy offered him a soft smile, and his answering grin was dazzling.
It was nothing suggestive or improper, but Bridget looked away uncomfortably.
She felt as though she had witnessed a deeply private moment, as though she was an intruder in her own family.
“All settled?” Gerard asked.
“Yes,” Dorothy said.
“Your turn,” Gerard said.
Bridget reluctantly met his gaze, inwardly wincing at how happy he looked.
A small, ugly part of Bridget—one which she did not ever wish to acknowledge—thought that it was unfair, like some cruel joke, that her sister had sworn never to wed and yet had found her perfect love-match.
And Bridget, who had always longed for love, had been disgraced twice.
“This is bad,” she said.
“For now,” Dorothy agreed. “But we will manage. This will not be the first storm that either of our families have weathered.”
“No,” she said tightly. “I caused the last one, too.”
Bridget gripped great handfuls of her wet, dripping skirts and hauled herself into the coach, purposefully ignoring her brother-in-law’s waiting hand. Gerard still hovered, though, like he feared she might fall again.
Bridget settled sullenly on the seat beside her sister, while Gerard positioned himself across from them. Her thoughts turned to the handsome Duke of Wheelton. Why couldn’t the man have just been a charming rescuer?
The coachman shut the door.
“Nothing you say will make me feel better,” Bridget said. “This is a disaster.”
Bridget roughly rubbed her hands against her eyes, forcing away the accursed tears. A small part of her wondered if she would prefer that Gerard or Dorothy yell at her and tell her how badly she had ruined herself.
But that was hard. The first scandal had been her own; she had made her peace with that.
The second scandal was all because of Lady Susan, though. It seemed grossly unjust that Bridget was being asked to suffer the consequences for it. And worse—
She had been so close to being the heroine in a fairy tale, rescued by a dashing knight in shining armor, but then, the Duke of Wheelton had just opened his mouth and ruined everything.