Chapter 13

Bridget watched from the mirror as her maid helped adjust her corset, securing it until it was a perfect fit. Her mother had picked out a fanciful evening dress of the finest lace for her to wear to this evening garden party held at Wareham Estate by Abel.

"This dress looks beyond flattering on you, my dear," the Countess said, giving her a once-over.

Bridget ran her fingers along the soft satin of the gown. "I can't deny, it doesn't look bad," she said, her face masking her true sentiment.

She knew that in no time, the Countess was going to start with her lectures about how she needed to find herself a husband.

"Perhaps you might find a suitable suitor from this gathering—" she started.

There she goes…

"Mother!" Bridget tried cutting her off.

Ruth never missed a chance to bring it up, so this conversation was inevitable.

"If only you could act more ladylike just like your soon-to-be sister-in-law, Olivia, you could have long been married to a reputable man in Society," Ruth chided.

Bridget knew there was no stopping her mother once she started on these customary lectures of hers. Hector was the only person who could have easily distracted her once she began, but he was nowhere in sight, so Bridget let her go off.

"The Duke will be in attendance this evening, as you know. He is a very fine young man, so try to make a better impression on him this time and refrain from bickering so much"

"I already told you he was a waste of time," Bridget pointed out for what must have been the hundredth time.

The Countess cast a questioning glance at her daughter. "And what would you know about wasting time?"

Bridget suppressed a sigh, steeling herself for arguing with her mother.

"The carriage is ready and waiting. Get ready to leave," her mother said with a note of finality as she walked out of Bridget's chamber.

Bridget's relationship with the Duke was one for the books. They were at each other's throats at every given chance, yet there were also moments, just small fleeting moments, when they really got along, bonded over things they had in common, and it seemed like there was a hint of a deeper connection there, but she knew better than to delude herself into thinking of such.

However, whenever he was close by, her heart raced with reckless abandon against her chest. She didn't know what this meant.

These complicated waves of emotions confused her as well as the unpredictability of the man. Yes, it bothered her, but she reined herself in from delving deeper into it.

Pondering over all this, she took one last look at herself. The dress transformed her from a regular maiden to a dazzling beauty. Still, she felt unsettled wearing it.

When Bridget and her family arrived at the Wareham residence, the party was already in full swing.

She emerged from their carriage, her dress brushing across the properly cut grass of the garden. Her family trailed behind her. This party was organized by Abel for the whole ton to officially announce that his sister, Olivia, was engaged and about to be married into the house of Borthwell.

The atmosphere was charged with beautiful melodies and sounds of chatter and laughter.

Her eyes darted across the freshly manicured lawn and blooming roses of the garden, but indeed, she was searching for the Duke amidst the sea of guests in attendance.

And when she found him across the yard, he was rather engrossed in a conversation with a viscount.

She linked arms with her brothers as they walked through the lush garden until Elliot spotted his beloved and then hastened off to be with her.

Bridget shared a knowing glance with Hector.

"See the quickness in which he's going over to her," he remarked, his tone tinged with playfulness.

"Oh, what a feeling it is to be in love," Bridget drawled, and they both laughed.

"Dear sister, this is where I leave you to go pursue my own diversions." He let go of her arm.

She slapped him jokingly on the arm as they bade each other goodbye.

As Hector left, she found herself standing alone right in the middle of the garden. Her parents had already begun exchanging pleasantries with a few dignitaries that came to greet them.

She thought of how silly this all was. Exchanging false pleasantries and wearing a smile throughout the evening for people you don't even care about.

"Lady Olivia is getting married to one of the Borthwell brothers?" the Viscount questioned, acting perplexed.

Abel took a sip of his drink before responding, "Yes"

"Isn't that a bit hasty? I mean she is a proper young lady, and care should be taken when picking a suitor for her…"

"Are you not aware of the misfortune that has befallen the Earl's household?" he continued, his face twisting in disappointment.

Abel was already getting annoyed by his non-stop attempts to convince him that he was making the wrong decision.

"It is a love match. I know this is rare, but surely, a lady of her status deserves that much at least. Or don't you think?" Abel said sternly.

"I suppose so," the Viscount acquiesced, seeing there was nothing more he could say to change the Duke's mind.

Abel knew exactly why the Viscount was acting this way—he had been seeking out an opening to suggest his own son to Abel as a suitor for Olivia.

Frankly, Abel also questioned his sister's choice, but he had finally come to terms with it because he wanted the best for her, and Elliot seemed like a genuine gentleman.

"The truth is that they have been courting for a while now, but I just decided to go public with their engagement, so it doesn't come as a surprise when they eventually marry," Abel pointed out matter-of-factly.

As he spoke, his eyes wandered across the garden until they landed on Lady Bridget fiddling with a rose petal and speaking cautiously with one of the servants.

He thought she looked incredibly beautiful in that dress. The dress, made from the finest silk, lay in gentle folds around her slender form. The bodice, made from intricate lace, hugged her body with grace, and the neckline dipped modestly to give her bosom a beautiful allure.

He quickly excused himself before the Viscount could get another sentence in.

Abel began to walk towards her, faltering a bit in his steps in a bid to maintain eye contact.

He couldn't fathom why he felt the need to go over to her as soon as he laid eyes on her. Something was just drawing him to her like a magnetic pull.

Upon getting to her, he cleared his throat, maintaining composure. "It's surprising to see you all cleaned up for once," he stated.

Although he was burning to let her know how ethereal she looked in that dress, his tongue failed him, and all he could come up with was that.

"Your Grace, I'll have you know that I'm always cleaned up and presentable, despite your opinion. Especially in these settings," Bridget said, glaring daggers at him but still trying to keep it respectful.

"Oh, are you now?" he asked with a smirk.

"My mother picked out the dress, just so you know whom to direct your insults at," she added.

"Oh, your mother has impeccable taste, but I can't say the same for you."

Inwardly, Abel wondered why he couldn't stop antagonizing her even when it wasn't his intention. What is it about her that made him act out of character?

Then he saw the blush in her cheeks, and realization dawned on him that maybe he just wanted to get her riled up. Perhaps he enjoyed the banter with her more than he was willing to admit.

"Your Grace, I appreciate our witty battles. Unfortunately, I'm not feeling up to it tonight."

"That's a shame, Lady Bridget. I feel in impeccable form. It seems that now is a better time than any for one of our battles, seeing as I have you at a severe disadvantage."

She grimaced and glanced around. There was something on her mind, but he knew enough about her to know that he wouldn't get any information out of her.

An awkward silence started building between them. He missed the banter. He realized that he even looked forward to it.

"You know, Lady Bridget?—"

"Pardon me, Your Grace," she said, cutting him short, "but I realize I have something to take care of. I'd be back shortly."

She curtsied, only to bump into a servant as she turned and get red wine spilled all over her fancy dress.

Abel's heart sank at the sight of the incident, and he was visibly upset because he really loved that dress.

The ruckus was loud enough that most of the guests turned around to watch the pair. Bridget looked absolutely devastated as she observed the ruined state of her dress.

He hated how much pain he saw on her face—pain mixed with dread and embarrassment.

Thinking quickly, he pulled her close and grinned at her. "Now, that looks even better than the original design."

She stared at him with red eyes. "What? My dress is ruined. This is a disaster! I reek of alcohol. I… I…"

"I think you look just fine," he said, giving her his most charming smile. And then he turned her around, putting her back to the gawking crowd.

There, that is better.

"Your Grace," she said, shocked but amused. "Have you gone mad? This is hardly the time for one of your jests."

"No jest. I just prefer this view better."

He saw relief bleed into her countenance, and he felt much better. The servant was still apologizing, but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

Bridget ran her hand over her dress and frowned again. "I appreciate your trying to cheer me up, but this dress is well and truly ruined. And it is starting to feel sticky." She shivered. "I don't feel comfortable, Your Grace."

Abel nodded. "You could go clean up and change dresses. I do think you still look resplendent."

"I'd rather change my dress, thank you very much."

"That is well."

She retreated quickly into the manor, trying to hide the embarrassment she was feeling.

Abel would have loved to go with her, but he held himself back. He watched her leave, wishing he could find a way to undo the mess that had happened. He could still feel eyes turned in his direction, and he tried to ignore how uncomfortable the attention made him feel.

Going after her would raise more than a few eyebrows. He strode across the lawn and met her mother instead.

"Would you kindly check if all is well with Lady Bridget?" he asked politely after describing what had happened, even though she witnessed it herself.

"Certainly—"

"I'll send a maid to help her clean up," he added.

Ruth watched him curiously, probably taken aback as to why the Duke was concerned about her daughter's well-being, although she gave him a small smile before walking off in her daughter's direction. "Of course."

Abel couldn't understand why he felt this degree of concern for Bridget. These kinds of feelings were foreign to him, and he'd never felt this protective for another woman except Olivia.