Chapter 5

A Rare Appearance

Bridget appreciated her mother wrapping an arm around her as they walked back to be with everyone else. They had their differences over the years, but they loved each other deeply.

"It will be a wonderful wedding," Bridget said.

"Yes, it will," Penelope agreed.

"We both care about Margaret, and we will ensure this all goes smoothly," Bridget continued. "I know we have had our share of disagreements over the years, and I know you wanted me to find a husband, but I am a lost cause now, Mother."

Penelope stopped walking and faced her daughter, placing a hand on her cheek. "You are not a lost cause, my dear."

"You need not worry. It is by choice, Mother. I have chosen one path, and Margaret has chosen another, and we will both be happy. You need to be happy for both of us."

"I am," Penelope assured her. She bit her bottom lip. "I will try."

"I know you have worked hard for this wedding, and I won't do anything to ruin it. I wish to see Margaret married more than anything, and she has chosen a wonderful man. How about we put our differences aside for these two weeks and work together to protect what you have built? We both know there are other forces at work that might bring ruin to our family."

Penelope sighed. "Come on, let's join the others before they begin to worry."

When they reached the veranda, the men were clinking their cognac glasses together, and the women had small glasses of sherry. Margaret was also spooning blancmange into her mouth and had an even larger smile on her face than before.

Michael went to the serving tray held by the maid and took the other two glasses of sherry from it. He took them to Bridget and her mother.

"More drinks to celebrate my new family," he said.

Bridget and her mother took the glasses appreciatively.

The veranda was filled with merriment, and Bridget knew she should put aside any petty squabbles and just have fun and support her sister.

"Lady Bridget, I saved you the chair next to mine!" Nicholas called from the edge of the veranda.

And just like that, some of the merriment evaporated.

"Well, don't be rude," Penelope urged.

"For me?" Bridget asked. "How kind."

"Of course," the Duke replied. "You were telling me earlier about Mary Wollstonecraft and Fanny Burney, and we never did get to finish that conversation."

"No, we did not," Penelope agreed.

It annoyed her that he had remembered the names she had said only once. She took her glass of sherry and went over to the chair he indicted.

When she sat down, Michael and Margaret, who were in close proximity, looked at her expectantly.

"Well, I was informing you that Mary Wollstonecraft," Bridget stated, "aside from being one of my favorite writers, is also a very intriguing and interesting person. She has written some outstanding works, but she is also known as a philosopher who greatly advanced women's rights and education. I admire her most for that, as they are issues close to my heart."

"Mine, too," Nicholas admitted. "Women should not be denied anything men have. This is all fascinating. Please, go on."

Bridget still had a small audience. She felt the Duke was challenging her again, hoping to put her on the spot, but she was equal to it.

"Her seminal work is, of course, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. A fascinating book that I encourage everyone to read, man or woman. Your Grace, if you have not read that book, which I presume you have not, as you did not know the author until today, then I urge you to read it. You will learn a lot from it about the ideas surrounding our place as women in our modern society."

"I shall find a copy for my library," the Duke said.

"She firmly believes women are the equal of men, as do I. Women should not be deprived of the same opportunities that men have."

"I can drink to that." The Duke nodded, before taking a swig of his cognac. He looked Bridget in the eye. "And are there any opportunities that I have had that you would like to have, Lady Bridget?"

You really are a rogue, aren't you?

Bridget knew the others could not see it, but she knew exactly what the Duke was up to and what he was suggesting.

"Now, Fanny Burney," she continued, not answering his question. "She is also a novelist, and many prefer her novel Cecilia over Evalina, but I prefer the latter. A lot of thought has gone into describing social manners and customs in her fictional works, and, again, I implore you to read one or both of them to learn from them."

"I shall take your suggestions into consideration," the Duke replied with a smile.

"Lord Michael, I wonder… perhaps I shall take a walk while the sun is setting," Margaret said.

"If you can find your lady's maid, I shall join you. Only if you wish for me to join you, of course," Michael suggested.

"Yes, that would be pleasant. I shall find my shawl."

Michael almost stumbled as he stepped forward. "I shall find your shawl for you."

"You are a gentleman." Margaret beamed.

The couple excused themselves, leaving Bridget and Nicholas mostly alone on the veranda. Penelope and Rebecca were still there, engaged in their own conversation, along with a maid by the entrance to the house.

"My, you did very well," Nicholas remarked.

Bridget rolled her eyes.

"Both now and previously. You certainly had me fooled at lunch. I truly believed you were the most well-behaved woman in the world."

"I will have you know that I am very well-behaved," Bridget declared. "It is rare that I am not, though it has been known to happen on occasion in the company of certain people. Hmm, no, not certain people, but one certain person."

"Anyone who can elicit a response like that from you sure does wield a lot of power," the Duke jested.

"Not as much as he thinks," Bridget retorted. "Is that why you called me over here? So you could tease me again?"

"Oh, my dear, if I wanted to tease you, I could do so very easily. I choose not to."

"Do you?" Bridget asked.

"No, I asked you over here to find out if you got into trouble earlier."

"What are you talking about?" Bridget asked.

"I saw your mother grab your arm at lunch. Did you get into trouble for the way you have been acting?"

Bridget wanted to wipe the smug smile off his face.

"Not at all," she replied. "She wanted to know if we should toss you out for being a complete rogue, but I informed her we should give you one more chance for the sake of our siblings."

"Ah, so deep down, you do like me."

"You think very highly of yourself," Bridget scoffed.

"I don't, but others do. When you get to know me, you will find I can be very agreeable."

"I don't think we have enough time together to discover that."

The Duke laughed, and Bridget found she laughed with him. She had not meant to, but she enjoyed the back-and-forth. She strived for equality, and she had found her equal in the Duke. When it came to good-natured jesting, anyway.

It had been relatively good-natured so far, even if that had stemmed from frustration, but she had ignored a few of his previous comments that hinted at something else. The Duke was a notorious rake, but she would not fall for that.

If he thinks he can have that sort of fun with me, then he is sorely mistaken.

She could see how women might be tricked into it with his handsomeness and charm, but she was not that sort of woman.

"This will be a lot of fun," the Duke noted. "Two weeks together, and we are not yet past the first night. I hope you can keep up."

"I was about to say the same thing to you," Bridget retorted. "And if you wish to follow me around like a lost puppy, then that is your decision. I am here to support my sister and do my own thing."

"I do love a challenge," the Duke drawled.

"Sometimes a challenge can be too much for anyone."

"Only until the challenge is solved," the Duke retorted. "And you might try and hide from me, but I am very good at seeking. And with regular meals and activities, I know we will be seeing a lot of each other."

There was a crash from inside the house before Bridget could reply to the Duke, and it annoyed her that their banter had been interrupted. Everyone looked toward the house.

"Yes, yes, well, clean it up," the familiar voice said from inside.

Bridget immediately shot her mother a worried look, which was immediately returned.

A moment later, Ralph Ramsburry, the Earl of Lincoln and Bridget's father, emerged from the house. He looked around quickly, before spotting Nicholas and striding toward him as if there were no one else outside.

"Your Grace, might I say what an honor it is to have you in our home." Ralph stuck his hand out, and the Duke shook it. "I hope your stay thus far has been comfortable, and if you need anything, you only have to ask."

"Thank you, Lord Lincoln. Everything has been fantastic so far," the Duke replied.

"Yes, quite. Now, where is that other daughter of mine? I would like the pleasure again of meeting the man who will make an honest woman of her," Ralph demanded.

"She has gone for a walk, Father," Bridget informed him.

She was thankful her sister had suggested the walk and was not around to see the state their father was in. He did not look all that bad, but he stank of cheap brandy.

Ralph turned to Rebecca. "Ah, and you must be His Grace's sister."

The words did not garner the intended reaction, and Rebecca looked a little alarmed as he came toward her with his hand outstretched.

The Duke stood up, ready to step in.

Bridget quickly caught her mother's gaze and raised her eyebrows. Her mother should not have had to deal with it, but she was the one her father listened to the most, even if he didn't ever truly listen to her.

"Ralph, I need a moment with you," Penelope called, getting up from her chair and stepping between her husband and Rebecca to protect the latter.

She took her husband by the arm and shepherded him back toward the house. He did not seem to mind and went with her.

"I thought we spoke about this," she hissed at him before they disappeared into the house.

As soon as they were gone, silence descended over the veranda. Bridget felt suddenly alone. Her mother and sister were gone, and she was left with the Duke and his mother. They could not comfort her in this situation, and she needed to think of an excuse to leave them and go and help her mother.

"He was drunk," Nicholas noted.

Something inside Bridget snapped. She didn't need an excuse anymore. She turned to Nicholas, and he leaned back a little at the fire in her eyes.

"And you would know all about that," she spat.

Bridget abruptly rose from her chair, knocking it over in the process, and stormed into the house to deal with whatever was happening inside. She and her mother had told her father to stay away as much as he could, but he had never been very good at listening.

Bridget was not the one who would spoil the wedding, not even close. The father of the bride was the biggest threat.