Chapter 20

Finding Comfort

Bridget had not had a chance to find the Duke and take a walk with him—she had spent most of the day with her sister, and the Duke had spent most of the day with his brother. Margaret had slipped the Duke into the conversation multiple times during the day, and Bridget had deflected each time.

He had been all she had been able to think about, and as she snuck out for the second night in a row, she wondered what sort of person she truly was. There was no future to be had with the Duke—neither of them wanted to marry—but she wanted to kiss him. If she found him out walking in the darkness, and he tried to kiss her this time, she knew she would not be able to resist.

Bridget was extra quiet this time, not wanting her mother to be woken again, and decided to investigate.

She made it outside and headed down toward the wall where she had sat with the Duke the last time. The night was clear, and the moon provided enough illumination that she could extinguish the oil lamp. The sound of the lapping waves made her stomach flutter.

When she reached the wall, she was disappointed that she had not found the Duke. She smiled to herself. It was likely for the best that she did not tempt fate and put herself in that position again.

"Were you looking for me?" the Duke asked from behind.

Bridget spun around to find him standing before her. Her lips curled into a smile, and the butterflies flapped furiously in her stomach. She had wondered if coming out was a bad idea, but as soon as she saw the Duke beneath the moonlight, she knew it was the right decision. He made her feel something she had not felt before.

"I only wanted some air," Bridget lied. "I did not expect to find you out here. Do you always take a nightly walk at this time?"

"Only when I have the chance to meet a beautiful woman."

"And did you meet her?" Bridget asked, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

"I believe I just did."

Bridget smiled more, unable to contain her glee. All she could think about now was how the Duke's lips would taste. She had made up her mind that she could not return home until they had kissed.

"My brother dragged me into town today to buy a locket for Lady Margaret. He intends to seal a lock of his hair into it as a gift and informed me it was your idea," the Duke told her.

"It was all his idea. I only agreed that it was a good one. He came to me for help on the day you organized my ride, and thankfully, his problem was an easy one to solve."

"A locket for Lady Margaret and her cat returned. Perhaps I can help you with any other problems, and you will have none left on your plate."

"I am not sure you can," Bridget countered. "I don't know if I will be able to solve this last one."

"You must share your problem," the Duke urged. "Come, we can sit and look out at the water again."

Once more, the Duke led her to the small wall and placed his jacket down for her to sit on. Bridget appreciated the repeated gesture, and she sat and gazed out toward the black horizon. When she listened to the water and looked into the darkness, she could fool herself into thinking there were no problems in the world.

She felt it was a mistake to talk to the Duke about her father previously, but she wanted to talk to him about the man this time.

"It is my father again," she began. "We can't stop him from coming to the wedding, but Mother believes there is a chance he will make a fool of himself if he turns up drunk. It could ruin Margaret's entire day."

"And you have to convince him not to come?" the Duke asked.

"I wish I could, but I don't know if that is possible. We can't deny him being there, and Margaret will want him there. Between Mother and I, we can manage him—No, I must convince him that he cannot walk Margaret down the aisle. I hate to admit it, but my father is a pompous and self-centered man. He makes everything about himself, and Margaret must not suffer. She will be frustrated by him not walking her down the aisle, but there will be less hurt. That is the problem I am faced with."

The Duke sighed and stared out at the sea. Bridget did not need to fill the silence. She knew he was considering the problem.

"If anyone can convince him to do the right thing, it is you, Lady Bridget. Still, it is a delicate problem that could escalate if not handled correctly. I firmly think you can handle it, but if not, I will gladly step in."

"You don't need to do that for me," Bridget informed him.

She wanted to handle the problem herself, but she appreciated his offer nonetheless.

"Yes, I would do it for you, but I would also do it for my brother. He deserves to have the best wedding possible, and if your father might ruin that, then it is my duty to stop him. I protected my brother for many years, and I sympathize completely. I had to deal with my father from a very young age."

"Oh," Bridget murmured. "Your father passed, didn't he?"

She did not wish that on anyone, but life would be a lot simpler if her father was not around.

"He did," the Duke replied. "I grieved my loss, but it brought great relief for my mother and me. We are similar in that way, too. My younger brother knew some of who our father truly was, but not all of it. Mother and I shielded him from that."

Bridget didn't know how to respond to that. Her trauma was very recent, but the Duke's sounded like it came during childhood.

"My father was an abusive man," the Duke continued, his voice somber and low. He spoke quietly and slowly, measuring every word. "He abused my mother during most of their marriage, and he abused me too. He would give me terrible beatings for inconsequential things. He always told me that he was beating sense into me to prepare me for inheriting the dukedom."

"That is awful," Bridget said. Tears sprung to her eyes.

"I don't know where his anger came from," the Duke murmured. "Perhaps he was abused himself, or maybe the Devil was in him. I took my beatings like a man—equality be blasted on that point. No woman should ever be beaten like that. I placed myself before my mother to protect her, and then my brother when he became old enough to be taught a lesson by my father."

There was nothing that Bridget could say to make the situation any better—she was only glad that it was in the past.

"When I was strong enough, I stood up to him," the Duke said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "He still beat me, but I gave as good as I got, and he soon learned to leave me alone. He learned to leave my mother and my brother alone, too, using verbal abuse as a weapon instead. He was a horrible man, and I am glad he is six feet under the ground. I am a much better man than he would ever have been."

"You are," Bridget agreed. "Even without knowing that story, I would know you were a good man."

"I try to be," the Duke told her. "I try to be good, and that means not being like my father. I do what I want, and I don't listen to anyone except myself. That is why I will never marry."

"Your father married, and you wish to do the opposite?" Bridget asked.

"No, not quite," the Duke told her. "I… I still feel him in me. I will always carry his influence with me. I have made my peace with that too, but I worry that if I marry, I might…"

"You don't want to hurt anyone you love," Bridget concluded. "You are worried that if you marry and have children, you might become like him and hurt them."

"Yes." The Duke swallowed. "I know I am nothing like him, but I don't believe he got married with the intent of hurting his family. It ended that way, but it did not begin like that. I shall not marry, and I will protect myself and others against the pain he inflicted. I carry my burden gladly."

Bridget still did not know what to say that might help. She did the only thing she could think of. She reached out and took his hand, pulling it onto her lap. She held his hand tight and stared out at the water—at a future where there was no pain for the people they loved.

They sat and stared, and Bridget hoped the Duke found comfort in her presence, for she found comfort in his.