Chapter 23

The Father of The Bride

Bridget did not cry until the coach had left the estate. She did not want the Duke to see the emotion he had stirred in her. She faced away from the house in case anyone was watching and let the tears fall, not moving her body as the sadness seeped from her.

I must be strong for Margaret. This is about her and not me. I was living in a fairytale for a few days, that is all it was.

She consoled herself with the fact that she was the only eligible woman in the area who had created a connection between them. If they had both met in London, nothing would have happened. Everything was amplified because they had been thrust together.

Bridget tried to convince herself that she did not have feelings for the Duke. She might have been able to do that if she did not think about him constantly. His coach had barely left the estate, and she found herself missing him.

She took the handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and wiped her eyes before turning to face the music. It was not only helping Margaret with the wedding, but there would be questions, too. Margaret would still be convinced Bridget and Nicholas were a good match, when the truth was that it was all over between them.

Bridget caught sight of someone in a window to the right, and while she could make out who it was, she knew the identity of the imposing figure. Some of the guest bedrooms were at the far end of the house, and it would have been where her mother would have put her father when he returned last night.

She knew it was stupid to get so angry, but she was ready for a fight after the Duke had left so suddenly. She stormed back toward the house as if leading an army toward a castle.

When Bridget entered the large house, Margaret was in the main entranceway, and she looked at her sister and opened her mouth to speak. But she quickly clamped her mouth shut when she saw the look on her eldest sister's face. Bridget marched past her and down the long hallway that led to their father's room.

She knocked loudly on the door when she got there.

"Yes!" her father shouted. "Come in."

Bridget opened the door and entered the room. Ralph looked fresher than he had the previous time she had seen him, but he was still unshaven, with black circles under his eyes. Even though he had told her to come in, he looked annoyed that she had.

"Father, I need to speak to you," Bridget stated.

"And I need to speak to you," he replied. "You may go first."

Bridget folded her arms and stared at her father. She wanted to defy him and insist he should go first, but she loved her sister too much to miss the opportunity. She had been nervous to face her father, but with the feeling in the pit of her stomach with the Duke leaving, she was prepared to do anything.

"Why have you come back, Father?" Bridget demanded.

"What sort of question is that?" Ralph asked. "I warned you before about treating me with respect, and?—"

"Don't you think we are past that, Father?" Bridget cut in. "You are my father, but you have done nothing in the past few years to gain any of our respect."

Ralph waved his hand in the air and walked over to the window. He was a little unsteady on his feet, though he tried to hide it.

"You were out drinking last night," Bridget stated.

"What I do is none of your business. I am doing all I can to steer this ship, and you are not helping."

"I'm not helping?" Bridget shouted. "Do you have any idea what I am doing for our family? No, because you are never here. Mother is doing her best, but it is me who is doing what you are supposed to be doing, and you are making that ten times harder for me."

Ralph turned around and raised his hand, glaring at her.

"Are you going to hit me, Father? Will that teach me a lesson?"

Go on, do it! Make me feel something other than the desolation in my heart.

"I would be well within my rights," Ralph hissed.

"And I am well-wishing my rights to tell Margaret exactly who you are," Bridget shot back. "She still loves you."

"Is that your way of telling your father you do not love him?" Ralph asked.

The look in his eyes almost made Bridget feel sorry for him.

"I will always love you, and so will Mother, but Margaret truly loves you for the man she thinks you are. I could tell her everything, but it would hurt her a lot more than it would hurt you. I can't put her through that, and that is the only reason I won't tell her. She will discover it for herself one day, and I will be there for her, but I will not spring it upon her."

"You always were annoyingly noble," Ralph snarled. "You are so wonderful, aren't you? You speak about doing my job, but you gladly accept it, don't you? You want to be in control of every aspect of everyone's life, don't you?"

"I only want to protect Margaret," Bridget told him.

That was her sole mission in life now that she could not have happiness of her own.

"Go on, say what it was you came here to say," Ralph instructed.

"I won't let you walk Margaret down the aisle," Bridget told him.

"Oh, you won't, won't you?" Ralph laughed. "You are my daughter, and I am your father, and you don't get to tell me what to do."

"Please," Bridget begged. "She deserves the best wedding possible."

"And she shall have that. She asked me to walk her down the aisle, and I shall accept that duty. If you have a problem with that, then you might take it up with your sister."

"Father, please," Bridget pleaded. "You shouldn't even come to the wedding. You will get drunk if you are not already, and you will make a fool of yourself. You will ruin Margaret's day."

"Am I not supposed to enjoy my daughter's wedding day? I shall drink however much I want, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

Bridget wished the Duke had not left. Not only for her sake but for Margaret's, too. She could see that their father would not listen to anything she said, but he might listen to the Duke.

"Please don't ruin this for all of us. I am begging you, Father. You have made a mess of everything, and you need to accept that. Doing this for your family will go a long way toward making amends."

"Not attending the wedding will make amends?" Ralph asked.

"Yes," Bridget confirmed.

"You are out of your mind," Ralph snapped. "I shall be at the wedding, and I will walk Margaret down the aisle, and I shall do as I please. I am your father, and I am a husband, and I am in charge of this family. I am sick of your moaning and whining, Bridget. Is this because he left?"

Bridget brought her hand to her face, as if her father had just slapped her. She tried to maintain her composure but was unable to stop the tears from falling. She wiped them quickly with the back of her hand.

"What?" her father asked with a smile. "Did you fall in love with him? They say that daughters look for someone like their fathers. It must be a good match. He is a drunkard and loves debauchery, too, doesn't he? You stand here and judge me, when you have feelings for a man who has done much worse than I have."

"He is nothing like you," Bridget muttered.

"No?" Ralph drawled. "That is not what I heard."

Bridget turned to walk out—she was done with her father. Yet, something pulled her back. Perhaps the way he had said it or the lack of parting words as she was leaving. Her father knew something, and he was prepared to keep it secret for now.

Bridget sighed and stopped walking. She turned around to face her father, but he still did not speak. She placed her hands on her hips.

"What did you hear?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"If you must know, I was in a tavern last night, and it was a good thing I was there. I talked to a patron there, and the conversation turned to His Grace. Now, I might not have thought anything of it, but I noticed you were spending time with him on my previous visit. You might not think it, but I do love you, Bridget, and I wish to protect you."

"Please, just get to what you heard, Father," Bridget pressed.

She was impatient to know what was said about the Duke.

"I bought the man more drinks to keep him talking, hoping I would not hear something unwelcome, but I was prepared to do all that was needed to protect you. It is the reason I came back here last night and concluded my business early."

"Father, please!"

"You love him, don't you?" Ralph asked.

Bridget did not say a word.

"I saw how you were when he said goodbye to you. I watched you, Bridget. Ever since you were a young girl, I have been able to read your emotions. It is obvious what you feel toward him, and it is obvious that he has been stringing you along."

"Stringing me along?" Bridget frowned.

"Did he tell you why he was returning to London?" Ralph asked.

Bridget took a moment and looked beyond her father to the window. There were lush greens outside, but they did nothing to brighten the darkness in her heart.

"He didn't inform me why he was returning," Bridget admitted.

"No, he wouldn't," her father said with a sigh. "He is in love with another woman."

"Another woman?" Bridget gasped. "He never mentioned anyone else."

"And why would he?" her father asked. "It is obvious what he wanted to do with you, and I hope you did not give it to him."

Bridget was silent again.

"He is hardly going to tell you he has a woman back in London when he wants to have fun out here in the middle of nowhere. I believe he always planned to leave so soon. He does not care about you, and he does not care about his brother's wedding. All he cares about is getting… well, some things are best left to the imagination."

"I can't believe he would do that," Bridget admitted.

"I heard things last night that would make you shiver. I had to tell you before it was too late, and I am glad I got here in time. I can see in your eyes that you are untouched by him. You deserve much better than what he has to offer. You deserve a man who will love and respect you. A husband who will treat you as an equal and not as a plaything. I know in your heart that you do want to wed, but it will be on your own terms. I am here for you, Bridget."

Bridget had not heard her father talk like that before, and it felt nice. She'd had her heart ripped out by the Duke, and it had been crushed by the things she had heard from her father, but she was comforted by his kindness.

"I don't know if it is true, but the rumor is the Duke will wed immediately after his brother. He intends to start a family with the woman. I hear she is very beautiful."

"He lied to me," Bridget murmured.

"He lies to everyone who crosses his path," her father scoffed. "I am sorry you had to hear this from me."

"No, I am glad you told me." Bridget felt the room spinning around her. "I need to lie down."

"Take whatever time you need," her father told her. "When you feel up to it, I need to talk to you about something else. His Grace does not deserve a woman as wonderful as you, Bridget. We will talk again, and I hope what I have to say will calm your heart a little more."

"Alright," Bridget said.

She felt her father's hand on her shoulder, and even though she hated him for what he had done to their family, she found herself falling into his embrace. She was a small child again in her father's arms. She needed someone to make everything right again, and that person was her father, even if he smelled strongly of brandy.

"Go," her father said. "Take some time to rest, and we shall talk some more when you are ready."

"Thank you," Bridget mumbled.

For the first time in a long time, she held some hope that perhaps her father had changed.