Chapter 26

A Deep Longing

Bridget stood at the front of the chapel as the harpist played a gentle tune. She looked at the back of the chapel, as everyone else did, to witness the bride enter.

Margaret, in her long cream gown with frilly sleeves and blue stitching on the collar, hem, and cuffs, had tears in her eyes but held them back as she slowly walked down the aisle. By her side, Penelope, her heart bursting with pride, held her head high.

It was a moving sight, but it was not what made Bridget weep. The scene was perfect because there was no one around to ruin it, and that was thanks to the Duke. She did not look over at him for fear of breaking down, and she would not have been able to see him anyway with the tears in her eyes.

When Margaret reached her, she hugged her, and the sisters broke down into tears together.

"I am so happy for you," Bridget whispered.

"Thank you," Margaret whispered back. "I feel so happy to have you by my side today. This is the first day of the rest of my life."

"It is," Bridget agreed.

They came apart, and Bridget finally wiped the tears from her eyes. Then, she took the bouquet of flowers from her sister and took a seat in the front row with her mother. She stole a glance at the Duke.

He stood with his brother, giving him some final words before he sat down, too. Bridget cursed that he looked so handsome. She had known she would run into him again, and even though they had already spoken earlier that day, she felt as if she were looking at him with fresh eyes.

The Duke wore pitch-black trousers and a tailcoat, a cream shirt, and a green cravat to match his brother's cravat. He looked far too elegant, and it made Bridget's heart rate quicken ever so slightly. She wished things had been different between them. She wished she were the woman who was waiting for him back in London, but it still would not work between them.

He had spoken of respect and love back at the seaside estate, but he did not have that. Not for her, nor for the woman he was to wed. After talking with him, Bridget was sure he was not to wed her anymore, but it made little difference. He had strung her along, and she would not beg for his love. She had far too much respect for herself to do that.

I must get a hold of myself. He is not in my life anymore, so I should not let him dictate it.

Still, throughout the ceremony, she could not help but glance over at him every so often, and each time she did, he looked back at her. She did not learn her lesson and went back for more each time, locking eyes with him before looking away, embarrassed.

"His Grace looks very handsome in his attire," her mother whispered at one point.

It was not the first comment Penelope had made about the Duke, and it was not helping. Bridget ignored the comments and willed her feelings to go away. She knew they would in time, but she wanted them gone now.

The ceremony was beautiful, even if most of it was a blur. Bridget could feel the Duke's eyes on her the entire time, and he became all she could think about—a dark cloud that confused her.

She stood back up as the ceremony came to an end, and she did not dare look at him this time. The happy couple kissed, and it became too much for Bridget. She hated the Duke for what he had done to her, but she could only think of kissing him. What she would give to have his lips gently pressed to hers again.

The Duke joined her and the happy couple in signing the register and making the marriage official. She stood too close to him, and her resolve weakened a little. She had visions of the dance she had shared with him, a moment in a multitude of happy moments until it all came crashing down.

She stood almost with her shoulder touching his as the married couple sat at the table and signed the wedding register. His scent triggered something in her, and she could imagine riding across the moors again. She wanted to hate him, but there was still love in her heart.

Why did you have to do this to me? What did you have to make me feel this way?

"I wish Father could have made it," Margaret commented to her.

"You know how it is," Bridget replied. "I know he will have wanted to be here, and I am sure he will arrive for the celebration."

She finally chanced a look at the Duke, and she was at least thankful for his intervention. The meaning of the look she gave him was clear: please check on my father. It would mean the world to Margaret to have him with her on this special day, even if it is only for a few moments.

The Duke returned her look, but there was more in his eyes. She could see his desire for her, and she had to turn away before it fueled her feelings more.

"I must talk to you before we return to your estate," Bridget told him as the rest of the congregated guests cheered for the new couple.

She hugged her sister and congratulated Lord Michael. She might not have a future with the Duke, but she was glad that Lord Michael was now part of their family. He would be a fine husband for her sister, and he would be a good brother-in-law, too.

When Bridget made it outside, the Duke joined her immediately.

"I must—" he began.

"Please," she said. "I have to say this before we leave for the estate. I enjoyed my time with you, even with how it ended. We are tied by family bonds now, and we must be civil with each other. I have feelings for you, but they will wane over time. I don't regret anything we did together or the time we spent with each other. You do not feel the same toward me as I felt toward you, and I don't dislike you for that. Still, you chose to leave, and you broke my heart, and you chose another woman and broke my heart all over again. None of that matters. I will marry soon, and I will start a new life, and all of this is for the best. I shall move on from you, but I will not forget you, Your Grace."

"Bridget—"

"Please don't say anymore," Bridget begged. "This is already hard enough as it is, and I don't know if my heart can take it. Please, let me move on with my life."

Nicholas stood before her, and she could tell he wanted to say more—she could tell he had some feelings for her. He had made his choice, and she had made hers. She was at least glad that he respected her enough not to mess with her feelings again.

* * *

Bridget sat at the head table with Margaret and watched as the Duke got up and headed for the exit. He stopped to shake hands with his Uncle Albert, his mother's brother who had traveled down from Newcastle. It would be easier to enjoy herself with him gone from the great hall, but she did not wish for him to leave.

The music had not started playing yet, but all she could think about was the dancing. She did not want to dance with anyone if she could not dance with the Duke, but she would have to.

For now, she enjoyed the food and a little wine. Her happiness did not matter. Only Margaret and Michael mattered that day, and they were joyful. The mothers-in-law were happy, too. Rebecca and Penelope sat together.

Bridget had not told her mother about the trouble her father had caused at the chapel earlier, but she could see the relief at Ralph not being in attendance on her mother's face.

That changed a few minutes later when the Duke returned to the room with two footmen and her father.

"What is he doing here?" Penelope gasped.

"Father has arrived!" Margaret exclaimed. She stood up to go to her father.

"Stay where you are," Bridget ordered. "It is your wedding day. Those in attendance should come to you and not the other way around. Stay and have some food and drink. I shall have Father come up and congratulate you."

She looked at her father and was glad to see that he was in good shape. He was dressed well and held himself tall, even if he did look a little sheepish. The Duke moved with his two footmen and her father toward the corner of the room, not bringing the troublemaker fully into the center of the hall. When the Duke looked at Bridget, it was obvious he was waiting for her.

Bridget made her way through the numerous guests and went to her father. When she got close to him, she was surprised. She had not seen him look or smell so good.

"I had him taken care of," the Duke explained. "He was a little worse for wear, but I found some of my father's old clothes for him to wear, along with some cologne to cover the smell of alcohol. I shall have my two footmen attend to him the entire time he is here, and at the slightest hint of trouble, he shall be thrown out. The more trouble he decides to cause, the more forcefully he shall be thrown out."

"Father?" Bridget prompted.

"I don't know what happened. I couldn't stay away," Ralph admitted quietly.

Bridget shook her head. "I don't know what to say, Your Grace. Margaret will be overjoyed that Father is here. Father, will you go to her and congratulate her on her marriage?"

"Yes," Ralph said. With the Duke and two footmen beside him, he looked afraid to do anything without permission.

Bridget looked at the footmen. "He is not to have any alcohol. I won't risk it."

The footmen looked to the Duke, and he nodded.

"Before you go, Lord Lincoln, will you please tell your daughter what I managed to get out of you?" the Duke asked.

"I… I'm sure that can wait until later, Your Grace. I must speak with my youngest daughter," Ralph said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

"No, you will tell her now," the Duke ordered.

No one was within earshot, but Bridget did notice some people looking their way. It was an unusual scene for the father of the bride, the bride's sister, and the Duke to be conferring together in secret in the corner of the hall, when there was a celebration to be had.

"I might not have been entirely truthful," Ralph began.

"Keep going," the Duke pressed.

"My dear, you must know that I only acted in the best interests of the family."

"Tell her," the Duke demanded.

"When I said His Grace had a woman in London, that might not have been the complete truth."

"Not the complete truth or not the truth at all?" the Duke hissed.

"It was… I had to tell you that, or else you might have gotten some silly ideas in your head and ruined everything. I was trying to save you from this man, Bridget. You must see that. I know you better than anyone, and I know the type of man you deserve—no offense to His Grace—but he has a certain reputation, and I knew you would regret it if you fell for him, because he would only hurt you."

"What did you do?" Bridget asked.

"I only wanted to protect you, and I had already received a handsome offer for your hand from a gentleman who had a son looking for a wife. He is the type of man who will respect you as you deserve, and I know you will find comfort in him."

"Father, you suggested a gentleman when I was at my lowest, and you informed me that you were unsure if he was eligible and that you would talk to his father. Now, you tell me it was arranged beforehand, and you lied to me to drive me away from His Grace."

"You make it sound as if I did something horrible, but I only wanted to protect you, my dear. I only want you to be happy. You would not have your heart broken, and you would find love. I know you want to wed, and Lord Barton is a good man. He will give you a good life."

"And I shall not meet him," Bridget told him.

"No, you must!" Ralph stated. "His father is giving me enough money to cover my gambling debts. Do you understand what that means, Bridget? This is not only about you or me but about our entire family. Do you wish Margaret to know about our debts on her wedding day?"

Bridget pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Don't you dare do that! You threaten me, but you are in the wrong, Father. If you wish to tell her that on her wedding day, then it is on your head. Perhaps it is time for it to all come out. Lord Michael will take care of Margaret anyhow. I don't need to worry about her anymore. So, go and congratulate Margaret, and if you wish to spoil this day any more than you already have, then you can tell her, but I know you are not that foolish."

Ralph held his daughter's gaze, and then he looked at the footmen and the Duke. "Is all of this really necessary?"

"Yes," Bridget stated.

"You heard her," the Duke warned. "Please escort Lord Lincoln to his daughter, and at the slightest sign of trouble, you have my full permission to throw him out of the house and not let him back in."

"It is all on you now, Father," Bridget said. "You can choose to make this a better day for Margaret, or you can choose to ruin it."

She watched her father leave with the footmen. She knew he was not a complete fool, but she still did not know what would happen with him at the wedding.

Bridget looked back at the Duke, but she could not speak. It suddenly hit her that she had been thinking with the wrong information for the past three weeks. He had still broken her heart when he had left, but he had not left for the reasons she had thought.

"Will you take a walk with me?" the Duke asked. "I think we have a lot to discuss."

"Only a short walk," Bridget relented. "We still have a wedding celebration to attend."