Chapter 3

Bridget's grip on her fork tightened, her knuckles turning white as she glared at the chattering man across the table.

"Ah, these curtains! They're so bold and passionate. Never have I seen ones like these before. I must say, they do a splendid job of keeping the sunlight out and the drama in."

Abel's eyes were fixed on her as he smiled sardonically. "One might say they are just like the fiery spirit of the young lady of the house!"

"Your Grace, if only the curtains could match your wit, we'd have a true spectacle on our hands, yes," Hector was the one to respond this time, attempting to shield her.

Bridget flashed a small smile at her brother when he turned back to face her. The Duke merely squinted at him though and turned back to Bridget with a malicious stare.

At this point, it had become clear to everyone at the grand dinner table that the Duke was persistently doing all he could to provoke another reaction from her.

His comments about the choice of dinner, the architecture, and every and anything else were all disguised as good humor, but she saw right through his smirking facade that forced her family members to nod and pretend to laugh.

It was her fault. She hadn't been able to hold back when he spoke about the gardens. There was a deeper meaning to the garden's unorthodox appearance. Bridget had spent days planting each flower with her runaway older sister in their younger years.

It had been playful, and no one expected their attempt at gardening to stay that way for long, but with her sister's absence… the memories created had lasted in the minds of each member of the Fadden household.

Including their father.

Bridget sometimes wondered if his decision to leave the garden untouched was a sign of his hidden remorse. But she always quickly dismissed the notion, unwilling to believe that he could miss Virginia after disowning her so cruelly.

Unfortunately, Abel knew none of that.

She felt her blood boil as his eyes locked onto hers and he opened his mouth to speak again.

"Won't you just take a look at this exquisite napkin!"

Next, he turned his attention to the linens on the table. He picked up a napkin, examining it closely.

With a theatrical gasp, he exclaimed, "So pristine and delicate, as if afraid of getting a single stain! I must say, you have all imposed quite a challenge to eat at peace without the fear of defying the napkin's perfection."

Bridget's mother's voice was tense as she chuckled. "Indeed, Your Grace, I suppose we'll have to eat with extra caution to avoid disappointing the napkin's… delicate sensibilities."

"And on that note, the decorations as well, they are quite… eccentric, aren't they? They add a certain, unique charm to the ambiance."

Bridget's mother gracefully replied, "Yes, our family takes pride in embracing individuality and expressing it through our choice of decor. I agree, it adds a touch of whimsy to our home."

But the Duke wasn't done. He tasted the flavorful food again, pretending to fan his mouth dramatically. He turned to Bridget, feigning distress.

"My dear, you have to agree with me, this dish is an absolute masterpiece of spice! It's like a fiery dance on my taste buds. It leaves me both exhilarated and… well, slightly terrified."

His boisterous laughter felt like a torch set alight in the inner parts of her soul. Bridget bent her head and gritted her teeth, gripping the hem of her dress to keep herself from throwing her fork at his eye.

"Your Grace, we're glad you appreciate our culinary adventure. We like to keep things interesting around here," the Countess spoke again.

Bridget sighed at her mother's attempt to normalize what was happening.

"Yes, we appreciate your kind words, Your Grace. We have grown used to the pleasure of experimenting with new flavors and indulging in the art of gastronomy." Elliot smiled.

As Abel looked in Bridget's direction again, sensing his sister's growing frustration, Elliot cleared his throat with a nervous laugh and continued.

"Ahem, since we're all here," he began, his voice tinged with affection as his gaze lovingly fixed on Olivia, "allow me to announce the decisions Olivia and I have made for our upcoming nuptials."

He laughed as his bride giggled and nodded. "We envision a very grand affair, filled with opulent decorations, a feast beyond what most have ever seen, and music that will make hearts soar."

Olivia's eyes sparkled with excitement as she interjected, "Yes, and we've decided on the most enchanting venue. It's nestled amidst sprawling gardens." Her smile was genuine as she stared at her husband-to-be. "Our love bloomed alongside those very flowers."

"It did." Elliot's eyes told a multitude of stories as he smiled back at her. Then he let out another laugh and turned his eyes back to the rest of the table. "As I was saying, we've also decided to?—"

"While your vision is undoubtedly grand, may I offer a different perspective?"

The smiles at the table slowly faded as Abel cut him off with a raised eyebrow.

"Instead of a grand spectacle, you two should opt for a more intimate affair. A small gathering is much better. The testament of your love and joy would be cherished better by those closest to you."

Elliot's brow furrowed in surprise. His voice was steady but tinged with a hint of defiance as he replied, "While I appreciate your perspective, Olivia and I believe that our love should be celebrated with all those who have supported us throughout our journey."

He met Abel's gaze with determined eyes. "We're not afraid to declare our love to all who can witness it. A grand wedding allows us to share our joy with a wider circle of loved ones."

"You can certainly declare it after the wedding takes place." Abel's eyebrow rose higher as he faced Elliot head-on. "I insist my sister has a small wedding, Lord Borthwell."

The room fell into silence as tension hung in the air. Bridget caught sight of the tick in Elliot's jaw, and she smiled, excited for someone else to go toe-to-toe with the pompous duke.

However, Olivia, the peacemaker, as Bridget had seen from her already, placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Elliot, my love, let us contemplate my brother's suggestion. A small, intimate gathering does have its merits. Perhaps we can find a compromise that honors both our desires. We… shall consider it, Your Grace."

Bridget wondered if it was merely a trick of the light, but there seemed to be an annoyance flashing behind Olivia's eyes as she spoke to her brother.

"My hope is that my input is not just considered, but done." Abel pointed his fork at his sister in a commanding manner before picking food off his plate again.

As the words hung in the air, Bridget's eyes widened at his audacity.

"My apologies, Your Grace, but you seem to forget that it will not be you standing at the altar, ready to exchange vows and hearts with another. It would not be your day. It is not your wedding." Bridget's voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade.

The Duke's eyes widened, and he choked slightly at her sudden comment. As quickly as he could, he dropped his fork and swallowed his food.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and his eyes narrowed as he retorted, "And who appointed you the spokesperson for this couple, Lady Bridget? It is not your wedding either."

"Your Grace, I'm not the one insisting on anything for this wedding." Her voice rose, laced with defiance. "Surely it is not wrong of me to insist that the couple should have their own say in how their special day unfolds."

Abel let out a chuckle, and the air crackled with unresolved tension. Bridget knew she was giving him what he'd wanted all along, but she was not about to back down now.

"Here we go, it's begun." Hector's small mumble drifted to her ears just as the Duke began speaking.

"As Olivia's older brother, I believe I have a say?—"

"You underestimate the power of love and the importance of personal choice, Your Grace. This is simply not a matter for you to dictate, brother or not," she jumped in before he could land his self-important statement.

Abel started. He glared at her in shock. Bridget guessed nobody ever dared interrupt him, which was probably why he spoke like he could bring the world to heel with a snap of his fingers.

Her lips parted into a wicked smile as she watched him pretend to be amused. She could see through the facade, though. She had gotten to him.

Serves you right. How do you like a taste of your own medicine?

"So, what? I just sit idly by and have no right to talk about my own sister's nuptials?" Abel leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Indeed." Bridget flashed him a tasteless smile. "Her nuptials, Your Grace. You're getting there. A bit more thought and you might be able to grasp the point."

"Unfortunately, that won't do, Lady Bridget." Abel leaned forward, his eyes going as hard as flint. "The way I see it, a large portion of this wedding will be paid for from my coffers. That is more than enough reason for me to have a say in this. You, on the other hand, are nothing more than just another guest. If anyone should have a say, it should be me."

Bridget started to speak, but the Duke raised a hand sharply, silencing her. It seemed he was still smarting from her previous interruption. Bridget held her tongue instinctively, holding his gaze.

"More importantly, Olivia is my sister and primary responsibility. It is within my authority to see her married in a proper way, so I advise you to start listening more to my suggestions."

"Well, that's too bad—" Bridget started.

"Bridget, that's enough." Her father's loud voice sent a chill down her spine. With a firm and direct tone, he stared her down as he said, "You're being rude to our guest."

Bridget's eyes widened as Leonard's words cut through the air. Embarrassed, yet still enraged by the Duke's antics, she lowered her head again as she tried to calm down and refocus on her meal.

However, despite her efforts, she couldn't shake the feeling of the Duke's gaze upon her. It was as if his eyes were silently questioning her, egging her on for more. It made her uncomfortable for the remainder of the dinner.

The instant dinner came to a close, without another look at the table, she made a hasty attempt to escape to her room. Her lips were full of angry mumbles as she scurried down the hall, desperate for seclusion.

"Sister, wait!"

To her dismay, a loud patter of running feet sounded behind her before she could get far enough away. Despite the familiar voice, she pushed on, walking as quickly as she could despite her heavy hems.

Suddenly, a gentle hand grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "Hold on, Bridget."

She let out a sigh as she turned to face Elliot, his expression filled with confusion and concern.

"You would run from me? Since when did such behavior begin?"

Bridget sighed again, and her eyes fell to the ground as she mumbled out a response. "I am tired, Brother, and was merely trying to retire to my bedroom. Am I not allowed to?"

"What was that with the Duke back there?"

With her father's scolding still ringing in her ears, Bridget, feeling a mix of frustration and vulnerability, held her tongue and simply shrugged in response.

Elliot let out a weary sigh, and she could feel his eyes boring into her for answers.

"I know you don't like him," he finally spoke, his voice filled with understanding.

"What's there to like?" Bridget couldn't help but remark.

"But this marriage means the world to me." Elliot lifted an eyebrow at her as he continued. "I'm asking you, as your brother, to try to make these next two weeks easy for me. Please, try to get along with the man."

"The man is infuriating, Elliot. Surely, you see that?" Bridget gritted her teeth as she finally lifted her eyes back to her brother's. "Not to mention arrogant and so full of himself?—"

"And he's the only family of the love of my life." Elliot's words were desperate. "Please. They won't be here that long, and I doubt you two would cross paths that often."

"Elliot—"

"I beg of you." Elliot gently took her hands into his. "It is only two weeks. I ask you to be civil towards him when you see him, that is all."

Bridget's initial instinct was to protest again, to voice her discontent. But as she looked into her brother's pleading eyes, she hesitated. She knew how much this meant to him, and in truth, she couldn't bear to see him hurt as a result of her actions.

With a heavy sigh, she finally relented. "Fine," she murmured, her voice tinged with resignation. "I shall try, Brother. I shall try for you."