Chapter 4

Politeness Never Hurt Anyone

Bridget took her place at the large, round dining table beside her sister. Michael sat on the other side of Margaret, with Nicholas beside him, then the Dowager Duchess, with Bridget's mother completing the circle.

"Your Grace, it is great to finally meet you properly," Penelope said.

"The pleasure is all mine," Rebecca replied. "I must thank you for inviting us out here to spend this time with you. You have a marvelous estate here, and I have loved exploring it."

"You are too kind, Your Grace," Penelope replied.

"And where is your husband, my dear?" Rebecca asked. "I have not had the chance to meet him yet."

"He is a very busy man. You know, with business dealings and other things to worry about," Penelope replied.

Bridget could see her mother acting her way through the conversation now that the topic had turned to her father, the Earl of Lincoln.

Penelope and Rebecca made a fine pair, another set of opposites in a house full of opposites. Penelope was tall and thin, while Rebecca was short and plump. Penelope had sharp features, while her counterpart was rounder and softer.

"My husband was ever so busy before he passed," Rebecca stated.

"Mother, I don't think we need to talk about death while we're having lunch," the Duke interrupted. "We are here to celebrate a wonderful couple, and that means we should spend our time celebrating life."

Michael smiled at his brother and gave him a good-natured nudge with his elbow.

"As a token of my appreciation for this fine day and the union of my brother and this fine woman, I have brought some of our best wine from my estate, and I thought we could have a bottle during lunch to celebrate."

"A wonderful idea," Michael agreed.

"I am so happy, I might cry," Margaret said.

Bridget should be happy and appreciative, but it only made her angrier. After the altercation earlier, the Duke's politeness would only make her look bad.

She cleared her throat. "I believe it was Aristotle who said, Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. When I look at the two of you, that is what I see. His Grace is very kind to have brought wine for us, and when it is poured, we must have a toast to the couple of the hour."

Margaret took her sister's hand and squeezed it gently. Then, she placed her other hand over her heart.

"You are a wonderful sister," Margaret told her.

"I do what I can," Bridget replied. She could feel the Duke's eyes on her but didn't give him the satisfaction of looking back at him.

Cream of mushroom soup was served for the first course. One maid wheeled a small trolley around, and a second ladled soup into the bowls.

"Thank you," the Duke said to the maid when she placed the bowl in front of him. "Your service is impeccable, and I know you strive for excellence."

The maid looked a little surprised but also touched by his words. She moved around the table with a little more bounce in her step. When the maids reached the other side of the table, Bridget was not to be outdone.

"Thank you," she gushed. "I have not yet tasted the soup, but the aroma is divine. You must send my compliments to the kitchen staff for creating such a wonderful start to the meal. And thank you both for making our guests feel so welcome."

The maids looked even more surprised at the gratitude from a second person at the table, and their spirits were lifted even more. They wheeled the cart out of the dining room with a mix of confusion and gratification.

It was not the Duke's eyes that Bridget felt on her this time, but her mother's. Again, she did not turn to meet her gaze. Her mother, however, did lean in and whispered in her ear, "What are you playing at, Bridget?"

"Nothing, Mother," Bridget whispered back. "I am not being impolite, am I?"

"No, but you are being unusually polite," Penelope pointed out.

"Mother, how can you say such a thing?" Bridget whispered with mock offense. "Do we need to talk about this at lunch when we are here to support Margaret?"

"No, I guess not," Penelope muttered.

Bridget finally looked over at the Duke, and he was looking back at her with amusement. When he had a slight smile on his face and was not talking badly of her, he was much more agreeable. She liked him better as the man she had met on the moors rather than the one she had overheard in the sitting room back on their estate.

Still, he was only doing what she was doing, and Bridget needed to strike again before he did.

"Oh, Your Grace," Bridget said as pleasantly as she could.

The Duke's expression changed to one of apprehension, knowing something was coming.

"I noticed you were about to eat, but we have not yet said grace," Bridget continued. "Would you mind saying grace for us?" She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh, my. That was funny to say."

Once again, she could feel her mother's curious eyes on her, and she didn't turn to her again. She only held the Duke's gaze, challenging him to rise to the occasion.

"I would love to," Nicholas replied. "I had no intention of eating before saying grace, but the soup smelled simply divine. Lady Lincoln, you certainly have employed wonderful cooks."

Penelope shook her head nervously at the compliment.

"I am often tempted by the wrong thing, but I am glad to have Lady Bridget here to keep me straight. I don't know what I would do without her."

"I appreciate you saying that, Your Grace," Bridget replied.

"Now, if we will all bow our heads, I shall lead us in the grace," Nicholas said.

Bridget could not help herself, so she opened her eyes to look at the Duke. She should have known the rogue would be looking straight at her, and she almost gasped when he winked at her from across the table.

"Lord, we wish to thank you for the food we are about to consume. Let us always see with open eyes and love with open hearts," the Duke said.

"Amen," Michael uttered from beside him. He patted Nicholas on the shoulder and then held his hand there, squeezing gently as if he knew exactly what was going on.

Bridget looked at her sister, who was eating the soup, looking oblivious and happy. Bridget felt a little guilty for pushing the politeness, but her sister was having fun, so the lunch was so far a success.

A large, savory pie was served for the main course with a filling of chicken and vegetables in a cream sauce.

"Please, serve the ladies first," the Duke instructed when the trolley was wheeled into the room.

"Oh, we will not hear of it, will we, Margaret?" Bridget countered. "I know how hard you men work, and you must get the first serving so we can be sure you both get enough."

"Lord Michael, you must try some of the pie first," Margaret said to her betrothed.

"Whatever you wish, my dear," Michael replied.

Bridget would never feel that way about a man, but she did enjoy seeing Margaret with Michael. She was glad he was nothing like his brother.

Bridget looked over at the Duke as he was served his slice of pie. "You will want to send your compliments back to the chef after tasting one of their wonderful pies."

"Whatever are you talking about?" Penelope murmured from beside her.

"I am sure I will," the Duke replied. "My mouth is already watering for the smell. For now, I ask everyone to raise their glasses as I give a toast. To the most beautiful couple I have ever seen, Margaret and Michael."

"To Margaret and Michael!" the collective reply came.

"This is a wonderful occasion, and what a wonderful toast," Bridget enthused. "I am overjoyed to have gentlemen in our house again, especially two with such good manners."

"Well, politeness is everything," Nicholas declared. "Without manners, we are nothing but animals."

"That is very true," Bridget agreed. "Without manners, we are animals."

"We must discuss the wedding some more," Penelope interjected sternly, steering the conversation to other matters. "Margaret, have you decided what flowers you would like."

"Lilacs," Margaret stated.

"You didn't tell me that, my dear," Michael said.

"Oh, do you not like lilacs?"

"On the contrary," he replied. "I would have asked for lilacs for the wedding."

"Those two are made for each other," Rebecca commented.

Penelope clasped her hands in front of her. "They certainly are. Is it not beautiful to see?"

The conversation carried on, and Bridget and the Duke shot each other the occasional glance. Penelope had steered the conversation to the topic of the wedding, and neither of them tried to dominate it anymore, fearing they would take it too far.

The Duke looked continually amused, and it only irked Bridget more. She had gone toe to toe with him and had not come out on top. Still, neither had he. For now, she enjoyed her pie and tried to think about other things. He had consumed her thoughts for long enough.

The plates were taken when the main course was finished, and no dessert was immediately brought out.

"We have a selection of fresh fruit out on the veranda, along with some blancmange," Penelope announced. "It is a fine evening, and I thought we might enjoy the weather while we can."

Chairs were pulled out, and people got up from the table. The maids waited patiently to clear away the rest of the dishes and cutlery.

Penelope took her eldest daughter's arm and dragged her in the opposite direction to the veranda. She did not let go until they were out of the room and halfway down the corridor.

"You were causing an unpleasant scene," she hissed.

"What do you mean, Mother?"

"Don't play coy with me. What are you up to?"

"Was I not pleasant or polite enough?" Bridget asked.

"Is this some kind of joke, Bridget?" Penelope demanded. "I know you, and that was not you back there. What was that comment about there being two polite men in the house? Was that aimed at your father?"

"What?" Bridget sputtered, suddenly confused. "No, of course not."

"Then why were you acting like that back there?"

Penelope looked at her wits' end. Bridget knew her mother was stressed about the wedding, even though it would be wonderful and easy. Now, Bridget was adding her personal vendetta against the Duke to her mother's list of worries.

"It was nothing," Bridget assured her. "I promised Margaret that I would be on my best behavior during lunch, and I must have gotten carried away. Would you rather I was my argumentative and opinionated self?"

Penelope put her hands on her hips and thought about it. "No, I guess not." She shook her head. "I am so unused to you acting like that that I believed you were up to something, but it is nice to have two polite and agreeable daughters for once."

"Mother, that was not a compliment, even though you made it sound like one."

"I am trying to be nice!"

"Where is Father, anyway?" Bridget asked.

"Goodness knows," Penelope sighed. "He was supposed to be here, and I was terrified he would be. Perhaps it is for the best that he is here as little as possible. I feel awful for saying that."

"I fully agree," Bridget assured her.

"It is why I am so on edge," Penelope told her. "This marriage means a lot to our family, and I can't have anyone ruining it. Not you, and not your father."

"Don't group me with him," Bridget said angrily.

"No, you are right. You are nothing like him, thank the Lord. His drinking and gambling have put us in quite a hole, but this marriage will strengthen our family, and we will be able to get back on our feet. And you know how your father is. He does not listen to women. He will not listen to you or me, but with Lord Michael joining the family, he might listen to him. I hope he is so ashamed of his behavior that he takes it as a fresh start without Lord Michael seeing him at his worst."

"You deserve better, Mother," Bridget said, taking her mother's hand.

Her father had been estranged from their family for three months and counting. He had become abusive and indifferent due to his addiction and had been living still on the estate but apart from everyone else.

"I chose him, and I will have to deal with it," Penelope muttered.

"Not alone," Bridget assured her.

"Just please try and be on your best behavior for the rest of our time here. All we have to do is get to the wedding, and everything might work out."

"We will make it," Bridget insisted.

"And Margaret can never know. It would kill her if she knew what her father was doing to this family."

"We will fix everything together, and she will never have to know. She is an idealist, and she is happy, and she should remain that way. Come on, Mother. Let's get back in there and enjoy ourselves. You deserve an extra glass of that exquisite wine."

Penelope placed her arm around her daughter's waist as they walked back toward the veranda.

At least the Duke did one thing right by bringing the wine with him.