Chapter 21

CHAPTER21

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Lovely to see you again, as always, Emily.” Seth walked into the house, past Emily, shuddering as he shook off the snow from his shoulders.

“I do not like your friend anymore, Jacob.” She slammed the front door shut so loudly that Jacob winced as he emerged in the corridor and pointed up the stairs, clearly fearing they would wake Maya.

“Seth, what are you doing, riding in this weather?” Jacob reached for his friend’s shoulder and brushed off the remaining snow. “It’s dangerous in this gale. You could fall off your horse.”

“Perhaps a little pain is deserved?” Emily scoffed, folding her arms and standing beside the pair of them, her eyes like daggers.

“Thank you,” Seth swiftly said to her. “If I tell you I’m already in pain, does that make you hate me a little less?”

“Little bit, yes.” Yet, her deathly glare didn’t change.

“What happened?” Jacob asked. “Wait, first, come and warm yourself by the fire, or you’ll catch your death in this chill.”

“Do you think I am offering hospitality to this man again, Jacob?” Emily raged as they marched into the front room, where a fire was raging. “After what he has done to my sister?”

“He’s still my friend,” Jacob reminded her, pouring a cup of coffee and pressing it into Seth’s hands.

“And a cruel man.”

“There are things you don’t understand, Em,” Jacob said hurriedly, turning to face his wife.

“Calm yourselves.” Seth took a gulp of coffee and held up his hand between them. “I will not be the source of discord between the pair of you, so let me explain myself now. Emily, if I tell you I am in love with your sister, does that help a little more?”

She blinked at him, saying nothing in shock.

“His last courtship may have affected him more than I realized.” Jacob winced with the words. “I had no idea her rejection had made him believe he wasn’t good enough to marry any woman.”

Emily frowned once more, but it was a different look now.

“You do not take rejection well, Seth,” Emily said slowly.

“Plainly.” Seth’s wryness didn’t help as he knocked back what was left of the coffee. Turning to the fire, he took off his gloves and warmed his fingers near the flames. “She will not talk to me. I cannot blame her for it. She’s furious with me. Furious with me for staying silent when I should have told her so much.”

He closed his eyes, his mind full of pictures. In a flash, he saw Bridget beneath him, moaning his name, then he saw her running up those steps, away from him and into the house, demanding he leave, then he saw her again in bed with him, blinking rather quickly.

Was she holding back tears when I said goodbye?

“I cannot give up.” Seth opened his eyes and turned to face Jacob and Emily. “If she marries Lord Burnington, he will not treat her right. Do you know, he went to the theatre tonight with her and yet sent her back alone in her carriage in this weather? He should have gone with her, ensured she arrived safely when the snow started to settle so thickly.”

Emily’s lips quivered into the smallest of smiles.

“Then what are we going to do?” Jacob asked, suddenly a man of action, clapping his hands together. “If you’re not going to give up, then we need to act fast before any more rumors can spread about the three of you across London.”

“Rumors?” Seth asked, confused.

“Do not ask.” Jacob shook his head. “There is much speculation going back and forth about the speed of your ended courtship with Bridget, and how quickly she has agreed to court Lord Burnington. I think it best you do not hear what they say.”

Seth nodded in agreement. He felt enough hatred from everyone around him right now. He didn’t need to hear about the disdain of strangers too.

“What are you going to do?” Emily asked, stepping toward him. “Prove yourself the good man my husband believes you to be, Seth. What are you going to do to earn her favor again?”

“I was hoping for your help with that.”

“My help? How?” Emily placed her hands on her hips. Even if her manner was softening toward him, she didn’t look immensely pleased about the idea of helping him.

“I wish to speak to Bridget. I wish for all barriers to come down between us, for your father not to be there, or any other chaperone. I need to talk to her alone, as we were before.”

“And how do you expect to do that?”

“Well, I was wondering, do you know how to get into the grounds of the house?” Seth asked evenly.

“Emily?” Jacob looked at his wife, laughing. “You know how mischievous she’s always been. She knows how to sneak in and out of those grounds as well as she knows the back of her hand.”

“Exactly.” Seth nodded. “Emily, if you can show me a way into those grounds, unseen by any of the staff and your father, then I will do the rest. I just need to speak to Bridget when things are calmer—when there’s no one else around to see us. Speaking my mind on this matter is hard enough as it is without an audience, might I add.”

He didn’t fancy the idea of declaring his feelings in front of the Earl of Pratt at this moment. He had a feeling Lord Pratt would throw him out of the estate.

“Very well.” Emily folded her arms. “I can show you a way to sneak in through the grounds, though it is no easy feat. Yet, if I can climb over the garden wall in a skirt, I dare say you can do it in a frock coat. Here is what you need to do.”

* * *

Bridget sat in the middle of her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest and the blanket around her shoulders like a shawl rather than a duvet. She couldn’t sleep. All night, her mind had been like the gale beyond the windows, unable to calm itself.

She flitted from one thought to another, rather like the leaves that kept hitting the window. One then the next, fluttering by.

She saw herself at the theatre tonight, on Lord Burnington’s arm. He had shown her off to the others at the show, saying what a lady she was, how proper, how elegant, and all such things that didn’t please her. It was the way he had shown her off as if she was some fine addition to his elaborate suit that had cut her rather deeply.

“It was not what I was expecting.”

Yet, she had scarcely finished the thought before she was onto the next one, remembering the way Seth had been at the door, catching her when she had slipped in the snow and pleading to talk with her.

I cannot talk to him. I cannot bear it.

What had shocked her the most was coming inside afterwards, and her father urging her into a chair with a hot drink as he had talked about the care with which Seth had handled her. Bridget had asked him to explain what he had meant by that.

“The man was in such low spirits, such panic, desperate to talk to you. Yet, he would not let you get hurt. Did you not see the way he caught you when you slipped, Bridget?”

“It doesn’t help.” She flung herself back on her pillows as the tapping at her window grew louder.

It no longer just sounded like leaves against the glass, but twigs or small stones.

That gale is getting worse.

Then, something large hit the window—a heavy rock or something—for the glass thudded deeply.

Bridget sat up sharply, looking at the glass. The object was so heavy that it was in danger of smashing the glass. She clambered out of the bed, hurrying toward the window, just as more stones hit the glass. This time, it was an entire smattering of small pebbles.

“What the…” she trailed off as she peered outside.

In the snow, she could now see that the gale may have been wild, but it was not the source of the sound. There was a figure clothed in black throwing things at her window. He kept reaching into the snow beneath his feet, pulling up twigs and small stones, then hurtling them through the air again.

“It’s not possible,” Bridget muttered and slid the window up, poking her head out.

Seth stood before her. He lowered his hands, stopping himself just in time before he threw any more stones.

“Bridget?”

“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice quiet.

Her father’s chamber was on the other side of the house. There was little chance he would hear them, but the servants’ rooms in the attic were above.

“Go home, Seth.”

“I cannot.” Seth walked onto the terrace far beneath her window, his boots leaving prints in the snow. “I need to speak to you.”

“And so what? You thought you’d stand here all night and throw rocks at my window until you can?”

“If it comes to it,” he said with a sudden smile.

The smile shocked her. It was a glimpse of the old Seth, the one she had known before all of this madness had happened.

“You cannot do this,” Bridget pleaded, leaning out of the window to look him in the eye. “Go home.”

“I will not. I’ll stay out here all night like a madman if that’s what it takes to persuade you to hear what I have to say.”

“You’ll catch your death in this weather!”

“Very well, then I will.”

He stepped back and reached for the stone wall that bordered the terrace. He swept a patch of snow to the side and sat on the wall, leaning back and looking up at her, showing he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You truly are a madman,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Speak now if you must, then go home.”

She shivered, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders once more now that the wind was whistling into the chamber.

“Very well, I will.” Seth jumped off the wall. He took two steps forward and then got down on one knee.

Bridget’s jaw fell slack. “What are you doing?” she cried in panic.

“It is what is done, is it not?”

“This is not Romeo and Juliet! I am not up on some balcony for you to start declaring prose to.”

“I had something more in mind than just prose,” Seth said, with that mischievous smile in place. “Bridget, I am asking you to marry me.”

It is not possible.

Bridget was convinced she must have fallen asleep. It was the only thing that made sense. Was this some sort of wild dream?

“I know I messed up,” Seth called up to her, his voice deep. “I’d like to explain that, and if you can’t forgive me for that error, then I will accept it. I shall retreat and be your friend. I’ll come and celebrate your marriage to Lord Burnington and sit in the pews and pretend to be merry, just like everyone else. But first, let me tell you this.”

He inhaled deeply and looked down at the snow as if struggling with the words. “You remember saying I courted before?”

“I do.”

“It was many years ago. I was young and believed in her implicitly—believed that we would be married and love one another forever. The day I proposed to her, she laughed in my face.” His eyes flitted up to meet Bridget’s. “She told me I was not the man that women married. I was a man women had fun with, and I believed her. I became that man.”

Bridget’s hand released the blanket. She clung tighter to the window frame, leaning out to look at him.

“Why did you believe such cruel words?” Her voice was strained. “Why would you believe every woman would think the same?”

“Young, foolish, pained—I do not know.” Seth shook his head. “But it became the one thought in my head. Over and over again, it repeated itself, and I believed it completely.” He held her gaze, with more sincerity than she had ever seen in his expression before. “When I first met you, Bridget, I noticed you. I noticed you from that first day, but I knew what I was.

“It didn’t help that Jacob and Daniel kept warding me off. They kept saying that I wasn’t good enough, that I was one type of man, and you deserved another.”

Bridget squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the window frame. Their words, their intention to protect her, had clearly just exacerbated his cruel thoughts. He had made a prison for himself and allowed his mind to be caught up in it.

“I love you.” The words were so sudden that her eyes shot open to see he was smiling. “I do love you, Bridget. I always liked you, always cared for you and enjoyed your company, but these last few weeks have changed everything. I fell in love with you so easily, it was as easy as breathing. Yet, there was always this doubt.”

He reached up and tapped his temple. “This doubt in the back of my mind that told me I wasn’t good enough, that you deserve more. And, naturally, your wish to impress Lord Burnington let me know with certainty that I was not the man for you.”

“You fool,” Bridget whispered, her voice without venom, just gentle. “I fell for you too, Seth. My whole heart did.”

Seth beamed, the expression such that she had never seen on his face before. It was rather like seeing the dark sky lit by the stars, coming to life.

“I didn’t know. I thought you loved him. Then, Jacob told me you did not, and I know with certainty what there should be in a marriage. There should be love,” he said, his voice growing a touch louder. “Shouldn’t there? Whether I’m good enough for you or not—”

“It has never been about that.”

“I will spend every day trying to prove I am if you will let me. I love you, Bridget, and that is why I ask this of you now, on one knee in this infernal snow, with the ice falling down my neck—” He broke off momentarily, adjusting the collar of his frock coat. “Would you marry me?”

Bridget held her breath, possible answers whirring through her mind, but it wasn’t something she could overthink. She could only answer in one way, the way her heart wanted to answer.

“Yes.”