Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The next day, Anthony paced across the floor in the studio, his thoughts consumed by Bridget. Her mostly finished portrait graced the studio, placed in a spot of honor beside the completed painting of Anastasia. In his opinion, the painting was not nearly as good as one that Anastasia herself would have painted, but it was recognizably her. It was his best work by far.

After the recital, he had made some adjustments to Bridget's portrait, choosing to depict her as seated at the pianoforte. He had finished her hair and face, and one eye closely resembled the actual thing. The other was a mass of shapeless color, but Anthony felt that the overall image would be serviceable once it was complete.

He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the image, his heart racing as he remembered the feeling of his fingers inside Bridget. She had felt so warm and tight, her inner walls pulsing against him. Anthony groaned. Every time he remembered her clamped around his fingers, her heaving breasts, reddened face, and breathless moans, his muscles grew taut. He had ached to sheath himself inside her, but Anthony could not penetrate the young lady in the gardens. That would be a step too far, and he could not frighten her away.

He had shown her pleasure, which she had accepted eagerly. Anthony had been as gentlemanly as he could have been while giving the lady pleasure, and he felt the sharp sting of regret that he had not taken some pleasure himself.

Anthony adjusted himself and sat before Bridget's portrait. His gaze fixed on her full breasts, which he had painted with such care and attention that he found himself becoming aroused at just the sight of them. How artists managed to paint entirely nude women and maintain their composure, he had not the faintest notion.

A light knock sounded. "Enter!" Anthony called.

The door opened and closed. "You asked for me, Your Grace?"

"So I did," Anthony replied.

"Is something the matter?"

"Why would you assume that something is awry?" Anthony asked, gesturing for James to sit across from him.

The man pulled a chair over and lowered himself into it. "It is rare that you ask for me outside of my usual duties, especially when you are in this room."

"You are too clever," Anthony said. "You are right. There is something that bothers me, and I need to discuss it with someone. I considered Mr. Russell, but while he is kind, he does not know me as well as you do."

"Does it involve Lady Anastasia?"

"Somewhat." Anthony paused. "I was thinking of Lady Hastings and what happened to her."

"That was no fault of yours."

"I would say that the blame was both of ours," Anthony replied wryly. "Although her father did not need to marry her to that dreadful man, we nevertheless did engage in activities which unmarried lords and ladies should not."

James frowned. He opened his mouth as if he wished to speak, but no words emerged.

"Say what you are thinking," Anthony said.

"I do not think it is my place, Your Grace," James said.

"I disagree. Tell me."

"I suspect many unmarried couples engage in such activities, and nothing terrible happens as a result. There was no reason for Lady Hastings's father to behave as vindictively as he did. You would have wed Lady Hastings if only you had been given the chance. The fault was not yours."

"Do you truly believe that, or are you saying it simply to comfort me?" Anthony asked. "To assuage my guilt?"

"I do believe it," James said.

"Even if I had…" Anthony trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Even if I had done something similar with another young lady?" Anthony asked.

"By something, do you mean deflowered?" James asked.

"Strictly speaking, I did not deflower her. I pleasured her in another way," Anthony said awkwardly. "Do not ask any further questions about specifically what occurred. Please."

"Understood, Your Grace."

"This young lady was Bridget," Anthony said, his gaze fixing on her portrait. "I took her to the gardens, where no one would see."

"Ah," James said. "And I assume something untoward may have occurred."

Anthony felt a twinge of discomfort at having that assumption leveled against him, but it was correct, nonetheless. "Something untoward may have occurred."

"You feel very deeply for this young woman," James said.

"I do. I want to pursue her," Anthony said. "I know that will have complications. I will need to contend with the Marquess of Thornton. A confrontation is inevitable to an extent, but he will be even angrier if I pursue Bridget in earnest. If I propose to her."

"Is this not the best possible solution?" James asked. "From the start, you expressed reservations about this plan."

"Of course," Anthony said. "All the plan would achieve is delaying the inevitable, assuming the Marquess of Thornton did not assert his right to Bridget's hand regardless of my involvement."

"If Bridget loves you, and you love her," James said, "that is surely the best possible solution. You could court her, which might bloom into a fruitful relationship."

"I suppose," Anthony said.

"You would surely fight the Marquess of Thornton for her," James continued.

"Of course I would. But I feel as though I am destined to repeat all my previous errors with Bridget."

"Why should that happen?" James asked. "You were younger and less experienced when you believed yourself to be in love with Lady Hastings. You have learned from those experiences and become a better man."

"Perhaps, I have. But it is a similar situation to Lady Hastings, is it not? I desire Bridget and want to please her, and her father wishes to see her wed to an older man whom she detests. The situations are quite similar."

"Not entirely," James said. "The Duke of Norfolk wishes to see his daughter wed to the Marquess of Thornton, something which would have occurred without your interest in Lady Bridget."

"That is true, but I still would not want the Duke of Norfolk to wed Bridget to that man out of spite."

"You are the Duke of Hamilton now," James pointed out. "You are a far more appealing suitor now than you were when you had your dalliances with Lady Hastings."

"That is true, but that does not guarantee His Grace would wish for his daughter to wed me over Lord Thornton."

James nodded. "Your Grace," he said. "I feel like we have spoken twice now about this matter, and you seem no closer to deciphering your own feelings."

"That is because I am not."

"I know, and I understand why it is difficult to figure out what your heart truly desires. If you do not let yourself be open to love once more, however, I fear you may miss something truly wonderful in your life. Lady Bridget is a charming young lady. I am sure she will find a husband among the ton, and if you do not learn to move forward, that man will not be you."

Anthony inhaled sharply. "I do not recall you being quite that forward when we last spoke about Lady Bridget."

"I know. Then, I was not certain about your feelings toward Lady Bridget, but I am now. You adore her. Even if you intended for this to be a feigned courtship, it is apparent that you desire it to be something more. I suspect that Lady Bridget does, too."

Anthony furrowed his brow. "Lady Hastings spoke to Bridget. I do not know what she said, but I imagine it was less than complimentary."

"Do you intend to talk to Lady Bridget about it?"

"I must," Anthony said.

Perhaps Lady Hastings had not said anything too terrible, though. If she had, Bridget surely would not have hastened to meet him in the gardens. Still, he must speak to Bridget as soon as possible. The thought of courting her in earnest was terrifying, but it was also freeing. He liked the thought of calling on her and having a candid conversation about themselves.

"But what if I do not truly love her?" Anthony asked. "Should I not know? With Anastasia, I was certain that I loved her."

"And perhaps Lady Anastasia is the reason that you are unsure," James said. "Your doubt is less about your feelings toward Lady Bridget and more about your refusal to leave the past behind."

"Probably. But what can I do? I cannot make myself love Anastasia any less."

"Why would you have to? Love does not come in some measurable, finite amount," James said. "You can love Lady Anastasia and Lady Bridget both equally. Your Grace, you have thought so much about repeating your mistakes toward women. Have you considered that, perhaps, Lady Bridget instead presents an opportunity to correct them?"

"That is rather optimistic."

"Well, I try to be good-humored," James replied. "I am told that is an attractive trait in valets."

Anthony grinned. "Listening and offering thoughtful advice are also admirable traits."

"Indeed."

Anthony stood and stretched. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and considered Bridget's portrait yet again. "I intend to finish this piece today," he said.

"You have made excellent progress thus far."

"Thank you."

James bowed and departed, and Anthony brushed his thumb over a corner of the canvas, smiling wryly at Bridget's painted face. When he saw Bridget next, they would need to have a long conversation about their courtship and Lady Hastings and—if he were feeling particularly bold—Anastasia.