Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Bridget winced against the sharp pain in her skull. She felt somehow detached from her body, as if she were a ghost haunting someone else's mortal shell. The last thing she remembered was Lady Hastings shoving her down the steps.

Glimpsing movement out of the corner of her eye, Bridget squinted. Even though the room was dark, her eyes still ached at the sight of the flickering candlelight. She glimpsed lilac silk, and a blurry woman swept toward her.

"Oh, Bridget!" The voice was soft and familiar, but it still took Bridget a moment to put a name to it. Anna, her sister. "Can you hear me?"

Anna curled her hand around Bridget's. Her sister's face came into sharper focus, and Bridget had so many questions. She tried to find the words to voice them, but her tongue was so thick and heavy. When she opened her mouth, no words emerged.

"Give me a moment!" Anna exclaimed.

Bridget winced at the volume of her sister's voice. Anna stepped away, and although Bridget longed to beg her sister to return, she felt still the dull pull of sleep. Black spots dotted her vision.

She must have fallen asleep. To Bridget, it seemed as though no time had passed, but some must have. Anna and her parents were in the room, and an elderly man raised a teacup to her lips. Bridget swallowed. The warm herbal tea was like a balm to her aching mouth and throat. She coughed.

"Careful," the man murmured.

A physician, she realized.

"Can you hear us, Bridget?" Her mother's voice was soft. "Dearest?"

Bridget swallowed hard. "Y-yes," she croaked.

Her head and neck hurt so badly that she thought she might vomit. Bridget wanted nothing more than to roll over and fall into the blissful darkness of nothing once again, but her body would not obey her.

"Take your time," her father said. "You suffered quite an injury."

An injury? Bridget frowned. She tried to mentally recall everything that had happened, but it was like trying to swim through mud. For all her efforts, she found herself unmoving and exhausted.

"Lady Hastings shoved you down the steps of Lady Emily's townhouse," Anna said. "You have been unconscious for days now."

"A—Anthony?" she asked.

His name came without any conscious thought, but once she had spoken, Bridget sluggishly realized that she wanted him to be at her side. He was not. Where was he? What had happened to him?

"What about him?" her father asked sternly.

"My lord," said Bridget's mother. "Please."

Bridget forced down the bile that rose in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut as pain sliced through her skull. Everything returned at once—Lady Hastings shoving her down the steps, the argument behind the townhouse, Anthony saying that he did not love her—and Bridget's eyes burned with tears. She blinked.

"Oh, dearest," her mother murmured, stroking the back of her hand.

"She will need rest for some time," the physician said. "I know it is tempting to speak to her and tell her everything, but she has just awakened. She needs time to recover her energy."

"Of course," Bridget's mother said. "We should not be too taxing on her nerves. I apologize, Bridget."

"Anthony?" Bridget repeated, her voice emerging as barely a whisper. "Has—has he…?"

"He is fine," Anna said, leaning forward and pressing her weight against Bridget's bed.

Bridget closed her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath that rattled her chest and sent a new jolt of pain searing through her skull. "Has he…has he come?" she asked.

"No," her father replied curtly. "Thankfully."

Thankfully?

Bridget felt as though her body were floating. Blackness threatened the edge of her vision, and her last conscious thought was of Anthony.

He does not love me. He has not even come to see me.

***

Bridget spent days drifting through sleep and wakefulness. When she managed to claw her way to consciousness, Anna or the physician or her parents were always there, coaxing her into drinking tea and eating filling soup.

Still, Anthony did not come. Bridget's chest felt as though there were a great weight pressing upon her every time she thought of him. He did not love her. Bridget vaguely remembered that she had resolved to have one night of pure pleasure before reluctantly submitting herself to a long, loveless marriage with the Marquess of Thornton. It should not hurt that Anthony did not love her, but it did.

Of course he wouldn't want to visit her. Why would he wish to see her ever again if he did not love her? Worse, the two of them had been caught shortly after their rendezvous in the gardens. She had marred his reputation once again.

"Bridget, are you awake?" Anna asked, as she entered the bedroom.

"Yes."

Anna smiled and lowered herself into the chair beside Bridget's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

Bridget forced a smile. She had lost count of how many times she had been asked that by everyone. Sometimes, she suspected that she was asked multiple times a day. "I am well," she said.

"My poor dear," Anna said, clasping Bridget's hand.

"I am much improved," Bridget said. "Truly, Anna."

"I know, but I still worry about you."

"You should not worry. Soon, I will even be walking again," Bridget said. "I must be careful for some time, but I will soon be able to resume my usual activities."

Anna nodded, looking relieved.

Bridget bit the inside of her cheek. "We have not spoken much about everything that happened when I was unconscious."

"No," Anna agreed. "Would you like to?"

"I feel like I must," Bridget replied. "What happened after… after Lady Hastings shoved me?"

"The ton was scandalized," Anna said, sounding as though she were choosing her words with the utmost care. "Because of your fall and also because you were allegedly caught in a compromising position with His Grace."

Bridget sighed. Warmth spread across her face. It had been a magical night that had awakened so many sensations within her. She looked away, hoping that Anna either failed to notice the gathering tears or else assumed they were because of the pain in Bridget's skull.

"I do not care if it was true," Anna said hesitantly. "When I am with David, I long to enjoy the pleasures of the bedroom, too. Waiting until we are wed is agony."

"The engagement was announced, then," Bridget said. "I missed it."

"Well, it was not formally announced until after Lady Emily's ball," Anna said. "And even then, it was nothing special. David wanted to make some grand gesture, but I did not really care for that. As long as I could marry him, I would be happy."

Bridget nodded. She wanted to be wholly happy for her sister, but she could not deny the despair she felt at her own lack of love. "What about the Marquess of Thornton?"

"He does not wish to marry you any longer," Anna said, smiling bitterly. "Do you remember him saying that he wished to cancel the engagement?"

"No."

"He did."

"Father's debts—"

"Those are not your concern," Anna said. "Bridget, you must not blame yourself for anything that has happened. It was cruel of our father to order you to marry Lord Thornton from the start. Now, you are free."

Bridget shook her head, wincing at the ache that spread through her temples. "His debts are of concern to all of us," she said.

"David has promised to take care of them," Anna said. "I have only to ask, but I have not."

Bridget's breath caught in her throat. "Why not?"

Anna sighed. "Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I cannot bring myself to do it. Our father caused all of this. He is the reason that you spent days lying her in this bed, while we worried that you might never wake up."

"Our father did not push me down the stairs."

"But if he had not arranged the marriage with the Marquess of Thornton, this would never have happened!" Anna argued, her face reddening.

"It still might have," Bridget said. "Lady Hastings might have detested me and shoved me regardless. She had already told me rumors about Anthony. And—and even though he does not love me—"

"What do you mean?" Anna asked, eyes widening. "Of course he loves you."

"He does not," Bridget said. "I told him that I loved him, and he looked terrified. He admitted that he does not love me."

Anna shook her head. "I do not believe that."

"You do not believe it?" Bridget asked.

"He must love you. He acted like he did."

"It was all an act," Bridget said tiredly. "He pretended to court me as some sort of plan to deter the Marquess of Thornton's advances. It was my folly for allowing myself to feel anything more than friendship for him."

Anna furrowed her brow. "Even if your relationship began that way, I cannot believe that is all it ever was. I saw how the two of you looked at one another. He loves you, Bridget. There must have been some other reason for him to deny it."

"How can you know that?" Bridget asked. "What other reason could he possibly have for saying something so unkind?"

"There is only one way to learn what his reason is," Anna said. "You must speak to him once you are recovered."

Bridget shook her head. "If he loved me, he would have already come to see me, but he has not."

"Maybe he has an equally good reason for staying away," Anna said. "Perhaps His Grace has surmised that he would be unwelcome given that the two of you were allegedly engaged in an intimate encounter. Or maybe he fears that you do not wish to see him."

Anna's words seemed too fantastic to be true, but Bridget wanted to believe them. "You have become terribly reasonable," she said.

"I have been listening to David too much," Anna said. "He would want me to reassure you."

"And you do not wish to reassure me?" Bridget teased.

"Of course I do," Anna replied. "I am pleased to see that you have not lost your wit as a result of this ordeal."

Bridget let her shoulders slump and sank further into her pillow and the bed linens. Fatigue pulled at her eyelids. "I am still so very tired," she murmured.

"That is to be expected. Shall I fetch the physician?" Anna asked. "Are you in pain?"

Bridget's thoughts drifted to Anthony. "No," she lied.

There was no point in telling the truth. The pain of a broken heart could not be cured by a physician, no matter how gifted he might be.