Chapter 13

CHAPTER13

Seth leaned on the doorframe of the warm parlor, watching Bridget in the morning light that bled through the window. Both Rachel and Emily must have gone for a walk with Daniel and Jacob, for Bridget was left behind, and she was taking care of the children.

In her arms lay baby Maya, leaning against her chest, her small hands repeatedly reaching out to her young cousin, who was playing on his knees on the hearthrug. Joseph had a peg doll in his clutches and was repeatedly pulling its limbs back and forth, making the doll stand at different angles.

Bridget adjusted Maya in her lap before pulling the fire screen in front of Joseph a little, keeping him safe from the roaring flames that kept them all warm.

Seth smiled as he watched Bridget. She had clearly not noticed he was there yet, and he was glad for these few minutes to watch her so at peace with the children. There was a new sort of smile on her face, one he hadn’t seen before. She looked content, her smile lifting her cheeks high.

Joseph rammed the peg doll onto the ground, and one of the legs popped out.

“Oh, Joseph, what did you do that for?” Bridget asked with a giggle.

Disturbed by the sound, Maya began to cry. She lashed out with her hands, and her small face screwed up tight.

“Oh, hush, there now.” Bridget lifted Maya high and turned her onto her shoulder, patting her back to calm her.

Joseph picked up the doll and looked down at it, his face seeming dangerously close to tears when he saw the leg stay behind on the hearthrug.

She will make a natural mother someday.

The thought came to Seth suddenly as he watched Bridget. When he’d first seen her in here, he’d been excited, thinking of the intimacy they had shared the night before in the library, but now his thoughts had wandered elsewhere. He was imagining what Bridget would be like with her own children.

“Don’t cry, Joey. We can fix it,” Bridget assured the young boy. “Here, let me show you.”

Yet, she seemed to realize the problem. She couldn’t hold Maya in her arms and fix the doll at the same time.

“Let me,” Seth called to her and stepped forward.

Bridget jerked her head toward him, clearly shocked by his entrance. He wasn’t sure what thrilled him more, her smile or the way her eyes raked over him.

“Come here, Joe. Let’s take a look at it.” He knelt down on the rug beside Joseph, who scurried forward on his knees, holding up the doll miserably.

“It broke.”

“It broke?” Seth repeated. “Or did you jam it on the ground a little too hard?”

Joseph merely jutted his bottom lip out even more.

Seth laughed softly and took the discarded leg and the doll. “Easily done. I did the same thing myself when I was your age—broke every toy I had, I think. I was that eager to play with them all.”

He slotted the peg leg back into the base of the doll and held it up for Joseph to see. “There. As good as new.”

Joseph took the doll with a great smile and sat back on his haunches.

“What do you say, Joey?” Bridget prompted.

The young toddler was still getting used to understanding words, but he nodded and looked up at Seth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, lad.” Seth patted him on the head.

The boy went back to playing with his doll, smiling happily as he made it walk in an ungainly fashion across the rug.

Seth looked up, startled to see Bridget was watching him intently as she continued to pat Maya’s back and calm her.

“What does that look mean?” he asked softly, sitting back and allowing Joseph to use his leg as the doll’s next path.

“Nothing, it’s just I…” Bridget trailed off and looked down, watching Joseph play for a minute before she continued. “Have you ever thought of being a father?”

“That was out of nowhere.” Seth forced out a laugh, rather hoping to wave the question away, but Bridget was still looking at him keenly. “It’s not my path, Bridget. Let us leave it at that.”

“What does that even mean?” She sidled a little toward him on the rug, still holding Maya.

Seth glanced at the door, wondering if someone would come and disturb the four of them. It was a strange feeling as he wondered what it would be like to have children with Bridget. He had to shake off the warmth, reminding himself it was not for him.

The peg doll fell in his lap. He picked it up and handed it back to Joseph.

“Seth?” Bridget whispered.

The fact that she used his Christian name, as he had asked her to do the night before, was what broke him more than anything.

“It’s just not part of my life.”

“That still makes no sense.” She shook her head. “You know all my secrets—all of them—and yet, you remain so enigmatic. You keep your cards close to your chest.”

“The best way to play the game, Bridget.” He winked, trying to lighten the air, but there was something intense in her gaze now as she looked at him.

He longed to be back with her in the library, completely alone, to distract her with a kiss or something much more intense, but that was not an opportunity open to him at this moment.

“You know enough of my secrets,” Seth said softly.

“Do I? I know little to none.” Bridget shook her head emphatically. “You said you had courted before. I had no idea. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Seth answered without hesitation.

Joseph thrust the doll into his hand and went to fetch another off the hearth.

Seth played with the boy, distractedly talking to Bridget at the same time. “It was many years ago now. I tend not to think about it. I talk of it even less.” He deepened his voice, hoping she understood that he had no wish to talk of it now.

“What happened to the lady?” Bridget was no longer looking at him as she asked the question but lowering Maya into her arms.

The baby was about to go to sleep, so Bridget made her more comfortable.

“She married another.”

Seth’s rather sharp answer made Bridget look up at him. She blinked a few times but said nothing.

“Let us leave it at that. No good comes from dredging up the past.”

He needed to change the topic, to do anything to think of something else. The more he talked about this with Bridget, the more he realized how separate he was from her. They were as divided as he had been with his first love. It didn’t seem to matter that he and Bridget were pretending to court. She was doing it to catch another’s eye.

Even as he dwelled on that fact, the man appeared in the doorway to the parlor as if summoned by his thoughts.

Lord Burnington looked at Bridget and Seth with a frown.

“It is working,” Seth whispered, glad of the excuse to change the topic.

“What is?” Bridget asked, her focus on the baby in her arms.

“Your admirer is here,” Seth hissed, for her ears only. “No, do not look around.” Bridget stiffened, staring straight at him. “Let’s see if we can prompt Lord Burnington into action, shall we?”

“How do you mean?”

Seth lifted one of Bridget’s hands away from Maya and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. His eyes lingered on the blush on her cheeks, the delight, the glimmer of a smile.

There’s lust here.

He couldn’t mistake her reaction to him, just as he couldn’t mistake it last night in the library. The mutual attraction was powerful, but that’s all it was. Bridget didn’t consider him as a serious prospect.

“Ahem.” Lord Burnington cleared his throat as he entered the room. “If you care to release the lady, Lord Ramsbury. I would like to speak with Lady Bridget, if I may.”

“If you insist.” Seth released her hand and offered to take Maya from her. Secretly, he winked at her, showing how much he knew it would work.

Bridget smiled a little as she passed Maya to him, then stood and took Lord Burnington’s proffered arm.

Seth watched with deep resentment and envy curling in his gut as Lord Burnington led Bridget out of the room. She followed every instruction and lesson he had given her to perfection, making the touch on Lord Burnington’s arm a little more intimate and smiling up at him as they walked out of the room together.

If only I kept her by my side for a little longer.

Maya wriggled in Seth’s arms, and he adjusted her, making her comfortable, just as Joseph sat beside him on the rug and leaned against him. Seth smiled as he looked at the two children, his thoughts not only on Bridget but on what she had said.

Of course, I’d love to be a father someday. If only it was my path in life.

* * *

Bridget couldn’t rest. She sat beside Lord Burnington at the dinner table, where he constantly monopolized their conversation, even though her eyes repeatedly slid toward Seth.

Seth was sitting opposite her, looking at her just as much as she was looking at him. To her mind, she thought he had reached for the claret carafe quite a lot over dinner, though she couldn’t be certain.

“What do you think?” Lord Burnington asked, trying to catch her attention again. “I imagine your two brothers-in-law would like it.” He nodded toward Daniel and Jacob, who were sitting far down at the other end of the table with Rachel, Emily, and Catarina. They were all deep in conversation, laughing about some jest.

“I do not comment on their business matters, My Lord,” Bridget said hurriedly. “You would have to ask them.”

“Yes, you’re right. Let’s talk about something that interests you, then. What gown will you be wearing at the ball at the end of the week?”

Lord Burnington’s question stunned her. She nearly dropped her glass as, across the table, she caught sight of Seth trying to stifle a laugh behind the rim of his glass of claret.

Does he really imagine that is all I think about?

“I think Lady Bridget is interested in more than just gowns, Lord Burnington,” Seth spoke up, for the silence had extended in Bridget’s shock.

“I beg your pardon?” Lord Burnington stared wide-eyed at Seth as if he had forgotten the gentleman existed at all. “I was talking to the lady, My Lord.”

“Very well. Lady Bridget—” Seth leaned forward with a mischievous smile on his face. “Do give us your answer. Is all you have thought about for days now what dress you will wear the night of the ball?”

Bridget playfully narrowed her eyes at him. He was being mischievous on purpose. She should be smiling sweetly at Lord Burnington, she knew that, acting up to this image he had of her if she wished to please him. Yet, the very idea of talking about just gowns angered her.

“I have thought of a lot of things,” she said coolly, “and I have not even decided on my gown for Saturday night yet.”

Seth appeared to be stifling another laugh as he raised his glass to his lips.

“No? Goodness, I have had my outfit picked out days ago,” Lord Burnington declared with eagerness.

“Right down to the cravat and matching handkerchief in your pocket?” Seth asked.

Bridget tried to kick him under the table, to stop him from causing trouble.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Lord Burnington said, seeming not to notice Seth was making fun of him.

Rather than managing to kick Seth, Bridget found her leg caught in his. He kept their legs together, much as he had done the evening when they had played cards, flirting with one another and enjoying these teasing touches beneath the table.

“You’ve picked the boots as well?” Seth was clearly working hard to keep a straight face. “The breeches? Everything?”

“Naturally,” Lord Burnington said. “I think the measure of a man is in what he chooses to wear, how he holds himself, the way he walks, his accomplishments, and, of course, how he presents himself to Society.”

“That is the measure of a man?” Bridget whispered, struggling to reconcile her heart with this.

It had been somewhat easy to excuse Lord Burnington’s occasionally odd comments. He was a wealthy, handsome man, so he could be forgiven a little vanity, but this was such an odd statement that Bridget was left wrongfooted, staring at him.

He does not have an awful lot of respect for others, does he?

“I shudder to think what you would make of me at the ball if I turned up in nothing but boxing shorts, Lord Burnington,” Seth drawled, the smirk on his lips growing.

Bridget was overtaken by such an urge to laugh that she picked up her napkin and pressed it to her mouth, pretending she was coughing into the cloth instead.

“Surely you would not think of it.” Lord Burnington shuddered in horror.

“I am just toying with you.” Seth waved his hand dismissively. “Though you have me curious to try it, just to see your response. Would you think me an ill-mannered man, indeed?”

“There are many things that make an ill-mannered man,” Lord Burnington said offhandedly. “A lack of propriety, a foul reputation, or even forgetting oneself enough to roll on the floor like a child.”

Bridget dropped her napkin to her lap. It was an obvious insult directed at Seth for earlier that day when he had played with Joseph and Maya in the parlor. Bridget adjusted her foot beneath the table, curling it more around Seth’s leg, not wanting him to feel hurt by such foolish words. Seth’s eyes flitted to hers, but there was no trace of a smile on his face now.

“Perhaps you and I have different expectations of what makes a well-mannered man, Lord Burnington,” he gritted out.

“Perhaps so,” Lord Burnington replied coolly.

“If you’ll excuse me, I am in need of some fresh air.”

Seth’s leg left Bridget’s as he regained his feet. He made his excuses to Catarina at the head of the table, then turned to the door to the dining room and left.

“There, at least he is gone,” Lord Burnington spoke with finality, turning his focus to Bridget once more. “Now, about your gown for Saturday night…”

Bridget could not concentrate, even as Lord Burnington gave her tips on what gown to choose. She was not only irked but furious, her hands balling into fists under the table. As soon as the ladies were permitted to leave the table for coffee, she jumped up, but she did not follow her sisters to the parlor. Instead, she left for the corridor and bumped into the butler, asking him where she might fight Lord Ramsbury.

“You’ll find him on the terrace, My Lady.” The butler pointed through the small music room, to where a door stood open, leading out onto the garden terrace.

Bridget thanked him and waited until he disappeared around the corner before following Seth out through the door and onto the terrace.

Seth had his back to her and had collected a frock coat before he had left, turning up the collar around his neck to ward off the chilly night air. He stared at the trees swathed in darkness, the only light coming off the occasional icy patch in the grounds.

“Seth?” Bridget whispered, closing the door behind her.

Seth turned around, a strange intensity she had not seen before in his eyes. “Of all the people to fix your heart on, if you’ll forgive me for saying this, you have not picked the best of men,” he said hurriedly.

“I know.” Bridget leaned against the door.

Seth stepped forward, his eyes widening. “You know that? You can stand him being so insulting to others, to have such strange opinions on the world, and odd expectations for you too, and yet you still wish to… wish to… marry a man such as him?” He plainly struggled with the words, fumbling over them for a minute.

“I know it doesn’t make much sense.”

Bridget wanted to keep a secret from him. She didn’t wish to put into words that her choice of Lord Burnington was more of a desperate attempt to move to the next stage of her life. Other than his handsome looks, she had little respect or affection toward him.

Yet, he could make a decent husband. He could make me a mother.

That life was what she desired. Yet, to admit it aloud felt wrong, and she couldn’t say it to Seth, fearing what he may think of her for it.

“Much sense? It makes no sense.” Seth turned away and ran his hands through his hair in plain distress before he turned sharply back around. “Bridget, why are you out here now?”

Bridget stepped toward him nervously. Seeing him alone, she longed for something. It was that same desire stirring in her gut that she had felt the night before—the same excitement, the same rush. If only Seth would show her something more, then they could forget this awful dinner, and perhaps, for an hour or so, she could forget Lord Burnington too.

“You remember the lesson you taught me last night?” she asked, watching as Seth tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing a little. “Show me something more.”