Chapter 17

It had been two days since the wedding. Bridget locked herself away in her room, consumed by a profound sense of devastation.

The joyous atmosphere that once filled the house after Olivia and Elliot's wedding seemed distant to her, as if love and happiness had been replaced by a cloud of gloom.

In the wake of the couple's departure, Bridget's heart ached even more. Not only had she lost her dear friend Olivia, but the Duke as well had vanished to only the heavens knew where.

Tormented by her own emotions, Bridget suffered from the belief that his sudden disappearance was a direct result of their shared kiss. She convinced herself that he had fled, unable to confront the consequences of their intimate moment.

Moreso, she convinced herself that it was all her fault. Perhaps if she had never pressed him with her questions, she would still have him around. She found it pathetic that she even had such thoughts, but she couldn't fight them.

Her heart had been irrevocably captivated by him, entangled in a web of love that only deepened her despair. Within the confines of her room, Bridget was enveloped by a melancholic silence of her thoughts and realizations.

The walls were all that bore witness to tears that slid down her cheeks, her heartache echoing through the empty space. Her thoughts were consumed by the memories of their stolen glances, heated conversations, and, of course, their kiss.

Each passing moment, knowing he was likely moving further away from her, felt like an eternity as she yearned for his presence, his voice, and his touch once more.

As the hours had turned into days, her solitude became her refuge. The world outside her door faded into insignificance, for she was lost in the labyrinth of her own emotions.

She longed for a distraction from her thoughts of Abel. Always in low moments like these, when her heart was heavy with problems, she yearned for the presence of a friend.

It saddened her deeply that she lacked companionship in life, and it caused the heaviness she felt to double. She desperately wished for someone to come and disrupt her solitude, even if just for a moment.

In the depths of her despair, Bridget's gaze drifted to the window, yearning for a sign of life beyond the confines of her room. She found herself wishing for Hector to burst through the door, whisking her away on one of his spontaneous adventures, as he usually would.

He usually ended up being her respite when she had heavy thoughts that tormented her. But alas, this time she was truly all alone. Hector had been sent on an errand by their father, leaving her to face her emotions alone.

The room felt suffocating, the silence deafening with every minute that went by. She clutched her chest, as if trying to hold the shattered pieces of her heart together as memories of the days before accosted her.

The air had been heavy with anticipation when Bridget had summoned the courage to confront Abel after dinner the night before his imminent departure.

She wondered if she had done the right thing by going to him. As the tears streamed down her face, she replayed the moment in her mind, shame and pain swirling like mixed paint inside her.

She'd spotted him the night after the wedding, his tall and imposing figure approaching her in the dimly lit hallway. Without hesitating, she'd then stepped in front of him and spoke before he could get a word out.

"Your Grace," she said, her voice demanding and edged with anger as she glared up at him, "we must finish our conversation before you leave."

Abel, his eyes avoiding hers, replied in a weary tone, "Lady Bridget, I am tired. It is late, and I must retire for the night. There are matters I must attend to after my departure on the morrow."

Bridget's confusion and hurt surged within her like a tempest. She was not ready to let him escape without addressing her concerns.

Determined to change his mind at most, she demanded again, "Look at me, Your Grace. Look into my eyes and tell me the truth. How can you leave so abruptly? Have I done something to drive you away?"

Abel's brow furrowed as his eyes bored into hers. "Lady Bridget?—"

But Bridget could tell he was about to repeat his excuse of having to go to sleep early.

"Please, Your Grace. Talk to me." Her eyes pleaded as he averted his gaze again.

There was a moment of silence, pregnant with tension, then he sighed heavily and reluctantly met her gaze. The eyes Bridget liked to remember as filled with warmth and tenderness now seemed distant and glazed. Her heart sank, fearing the worst.

Abel's voice was tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation as he spoke, "You must remember and understand that there are always circumstances beyond our control in life, Lady Bridget."

He paused, and his tone sounded reassuring as he added, "It is not a matter of you doing something wrong. Again, I have obligations that I must fulfill, responsibilities that cannot be ignored. This isn't about you?—"

"Then why have you been ignoring me so?" she spat, her words laced with venom. "Why won't you look at me?"

Her anger was palpable. There she was, begging him in the middle of an empty corridor. How had he managed to change her so much? How had she lost her way so much?

"You owe me an explanation," she added. "I believe I deserve one." She barely managed to keep her emotions in check.

Abel's expression shifted, a flicker of care briefly illuminating his eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a nonchalant mask. With a tight tone, he spoke, his words carrying a coldness that pierced her heart.

"Everything between us is fine," he uttered, his voice devoid of warmth or reassurance.

Bridget sneered. She was done begging him. If he was going to act like a petulant child and treat her like she had caught the plague, then she was not going to try to convince him further.

She had already acted contrary to her character and personality enough by begging for his attention. He could go. She had a life before the Duke came into the picture, after all.

"Fine," she said in a clipped tone. "Good night."

Something flickered in his eyes again, too fast for Bridget to read. He bowed slightly to her and said, "That is well, Lady Bridget. Good night."

Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart shattered, and her remaining words left unspoken.

The memory was too painful for her to bear, and her tears fell faster as she remembered the coldness in his eyes.

Perhaps she could have done more? It didn't seem like there was any way to prevent events from unfolding the way they did, and now it ripped her soul apart.

As she turned in bed, her mind shifted to the morning of his departure. She had joined her family to bid him goodbye, glaring eyes fixed on his figure, hoping her intense gaze would make him reconsider.

Considering how determined he had been the previous night, she'd known the chances of changing his mind were slim at best.

Well, leave if you want to. This is your loss, Abel.

In that fleeting moment, the world had seemed to hold its breath. Despite her icy demeanor, Bridget's every fiber ached for him to turn around, to acknowledge her presence, and to give this thing between them a fighting chance.

But alas, fate had other plans. Abel, resolute in his decision, had climbed into the waiting carriage without so much as a glance in her direction. The carriage door closed with a definitive thud, sealing their separation.

Bridget had fought the angry tears that welled up in her eyes as the carriage pulled away, disappearing into the distance. The echoes of their stolen kiss still lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

How could he have left like that just as she realized that she loved him? She felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces, each shard a painful reminder of her first love slipping through her fingers.

As Bridget tossed and turned in her bed again, her heart heavy with sorrow, a sudden knock on her door shattered the silence. Startled, she rose to a sitting position. She waited till she heard a second knock before her feet touched the floor, and she went to open the door.

She raised her eyes to find her father standing there, his expression a mix of shock and disapproval.

His words cut through the air like a sharp blade as he took in her appearance from head to toe. He clucked his tongue and remarked, "Just look at the state of you, child. You appear positively dreadful."

With her spirit dampened by the weight of her heartache already, Bridget chose not to engage in a snappy retort. She barely had the energy to give one if she wanted to anyway.

Instead, she quietly made her way back to the bed, her eyes cast downward, a silent testament to her inner turmoil.

Leonard was taken aback by his daughter's lack of response even more than her disheveled state. He stood awkwardly for a moment, clearing his throat before taking a seat on the chair in the room.

A heavily awkward silence ensued. His gaze remained on his daughter, doing his best to try to read her expression, but to no avail. At last, he let out a heavy sigh and began to speak.

"I learned from your brother before he left for his honeymoon that you spent your time eavesdropping on his conversation and mine, late at night, when you were supposed to be asleep in your chambers."

The accusation in his tone was a cover-up for the shame he felt. He felt it'd be better to stir up an argument than face his daughter's worry, or worse, disappointment in his actions, head-on.

Despite his son's plea to handle the matter gently ringing in his ears, Leonard's pride caused him to push on recklessly, his arms crossed over his chest, ready for the fight.

"It's a good thing that you did anyway. Now that you know the situation, you have little cause to fight the inevitable."

He coughed awkwardly, and his tone was demanding as he glared at her quiet figure. "It's time you play your part in securing our family's future, Bridget. I will not let you argue against this any longer."

Forcing an air of heavy expectation in his tone, he continued, "You must find a suitable partner—the situation demands it. Plus, you are of age. I believe I have coddled you long enough."

He allowed his words to continue to rush out in a harsh and direct tone. "I have already informed your mother of this. We have begun looking for worthy and available men in the ton."

"From now on—" He paused to catch his breath, raising his voice. "You shall attend balls, and you must not cause any more scandals. This Season, you shall find a husband. Have I made myself clear enough?"

Bridget's heart sank as her father's words echoed through the room. His statements were all truthful, and hurtful. There was not a word she could say to oppose any of them.

The weight of their financial predicament pressed down upon her shoulders as well, and she could feel the gravity of the situation adding to the turmoil that had already been brewing within her.

She fought off the thoughts of desire that filled her mind. Unless Abel was the man to propose, she doubted she would be able to carry out her father's wishes in all honesty.

Nevertheless, this was the responsibility she bore as a member of her family. It was high time she stopped running from it.

Perhaps, this development could help her forget about the unrequited love she had for the Duke as well. It could indeed work out in her favor.

"Bridget?"

She lifted her head to meet her father's gaze just as he spoke again, and she replied solemnly, "I understand, Father. I will do what is necessary to ensure our family's financial security."

Leonard, who had been expecting a vehement clash of wills, was more than taken aback by his daughter's unexpected compliance. His eyebrows rose in inexplicable confusion as he sought confirmation.

"Bridget, I believe you heard me correctly? Perhaps you've been tuning me out all this while, child?"

Bridget, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, lifted them wearily to meet her father's gaze again. She gave him a nod of silent affirmation, a gesture laden with resignation and an undeniable hint of sorrow.

A heavy silence followed, and she saw Leonard grappling with his own emotions. She saw the way he looked at her, and she wondered how much of her pain he could sense.

Elliot was right, after all. Their father did care, he just struggled with finding the right way to show that he did. She wished she had tried more to help him instead of assuming the worst about him.

Leonard moved closer to Bridget, and she saw in his eyes that he was searching for the right words to say to comfort her, bless his heart. She reached out and held his hand, smiling tiredly at him.

"Oh, Bridget!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. "My sweet, sweet girl."

That was enough for her. She didn't need him to say anything more, she realized. His presence alone was enough, and seeing him struggle with expressing himself had unlocked something else inside her. She had her father's love.

At last, he rose from the chair and made for her door. He turned to her, and she saw a resolve settle over him. His face, his posture. He seemed to stand taller, his mind made up.

"I am grateful for your acquiescence. Tomorrow, we shall depart for London, where opportunities await."