Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

“ I have three options for you. Option one, I send the Runners to find him, which will probably end up with him in debtor’s prison where he will likely perish. Option two, I will have a search done of the rookeries for him and report back, but for this one, we will have to be courting,” William gauged her expression; she looked startled but not overly so.

“And for option three, I will personally find him, bring him back to you on a lovely silver platter, but for this one… you must accept my hand in marriage.”

Those were words he knew Bridget had not expected to hear and she certainly did not accept them now. “No.”

“Rest assured; it is only temporary. We will amicably dissolve our marriage soon enough, you’ll have your brother, I will have the fortune that was held from me, and we’ll part ways with your reputation untouched.”

She gaped and the tea in her cup sloshed to the rim. “ Pardon ? You are the Beast of Brookhaven, the man every mama warns their daughter to avoid with a wide berth. My reputation will be in tatters , not simply untouched .”

Satisfaction expanded his chest. “Admit the attraction between us is mutual.”

“It is the furthest thing from it.”

“You are lying.”

“I am not.”

“Hells teeth you are a stubborn one,” he grated out.

“And you, Sir, do not play fair,” she replied. “I have a proper marriage in the works.”

“To a staid man who will probably write a schedule for you each morning and only have intimate relations with you on Wednesday nights after his drink at Whites,” William teased.

“You are horrid,” she huffed.

“I am practical. Think; how else would you explain to others when reports blow through Town about us being together? How will your precious Hansen react to it? Do you want your brother, or do you want to pall around with this milksop of a lord? What is more important?”

William sat back, knowing he was breaking his own rule from earlier. He was hardly the epitome of morality, yet he had never forced himself on an innocent. If he wanted this to work, she would have to come to him on her own terms.

While she was the furthest thing from na?ve, she held a strong passion. William had no doubt that she would accept his offer— out of loyalty to her brother, for one, but also out of curiosity to feel real desire.

Seasoned in debauchery, he knew what it meant when a woman’s bosom rose and fell when he neared, what certain flushes on her cheek meant, and how those pillowy lips of hers parted with each breath. Though she might not recognize the welcoming signs of her own body, he certainly did.

He only needed her to see it for herself.

Her frustration boiled over. “That is so unfair!” she burst out. “I have my future on the line. You cannot ask me to choose, and you made me a promise.”

“A promise, yes, but I did not say the promise was carte blanche ,” William replied smoothly. “Your heart is set on Hansen, I know,” he began softly while rounding the table and striding to her seat. “But what if I offer you something to sweeten the arrangement?”

“Arrangement? You mean this courtship or marriage?” she asked, eyelids fluttering.

“Yes,” he continued. He moved even closer now and whispered against her ears, “Agree to the last and I will restore your house to you, clear your brother’s debts, and while we wait out the period to break the marriage, I promise I… will not touch you unless you explicitly ask for it.”

She looked taken aback. “You would do all that?”

William grinned. “As my wife, you’ll find that you’ll want for nothing and will have everything my wealth and status could provide. Even after the separation, you will be taken care of.”

Her eyes flew open, and she stared into the mesmerizing depths of his hazel orbs in shock. He must have seen something else in her expression that gave him the confidence to continue.

“I gave you the options on how to find your brother,” he began sincerely. “But irrespective of which option you choose, news of our courtship, true or not, will come out sooner or later, because there is no way we can be seen together again without stirring gossip—the ton will not take it so lightly any longer. Thus, if you do intend to follow through with any of this, it is best to let Hansen down now before you get deeper into it,” he cajoled her.

Her head bowed and he could see the war brewing on her face. She was considering and comparing her present and her future, he would bet. She set the cup down. “You cannot expect me to choose right now.”

“Of course not,” he said, curling a finger beneath her chin. “But perhaps some incentive would help?”

Their faces drew closer, like a shard of iron to a lodestone, each breath a mere whisper, their lips only inches apart, and William could feel her warmth against his body.

When their lips met, the kiss was soft and careful, her body relaxing in the tranquility of it all. One hand gently grasped the back of her neck, long fingers spanning to the skin under her throat.

Bridget released a soft moan from her lips, which William bit down on, subduing her senses. His kiss deepened, and he was already erect—something he could not control in her presence—and he was only getting harder.

He did not cease his intense assault against her mouth and instead, his other hand enclosed around her neck, ever so lightly, enough for a foreign and unfamiliar surge of intoxicating craving to pump through his veins.

As he broke apart their kiss, her cheeks bloomed with a rosy hue and her fingers brushed her lips, possibly reliving the memory of their forbidden kiss. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the longest time,” he murmured. “And more.”

Easing from the chair, he said, “Send me a letter with your decision. You have three days to do so… and when you are finished here, Lane will see you out.”

She had slid a forefinger between her lips and was biting down on it. Acting as if he hadn’t seen it—nor the flush that had gone up to her ears—he casually spun the ledger open and went back to work.

Two days later, Bridget was curled up at a window seat in Eleanor’s smaller drawing room, watching the rain—the grim feeling that she was running out of time heavy on her heart and mind. She had not sent the duke the letter yet because her heart and mind were at odds with each other.

Yesterday, she had gone for another outing with the Earl of Hansen, and she had felt uneasy the entire time. Every moment found her comparing the earl and the duke; their mannerisms, the cadence of their voice, the expressions in their eyes when they looked at her.

Graham’s gaze held genial companionship.

The Duke’s gaze held amusement, fiery temptation, and sin.

Lodged between the two, it was as if the rose-colored spectacles she wore had been peeled away and she saw an unfiltered reality for the first time. She could choose the acceptable route, become Lord Hansen’s wife and have an unmarred reputation… or let her baser sensibilities come out and allow the duke his whims.

So why is his offer so tempting…

“What has been bothering you so, Bridget,” Ellie sauntered in, “And for the millionth time, do not dare tell me it is nothing because I have known you from the schoolroom and I can read your face like a novel.”

“I—” She shifted around. “I was thinking about Guinevere.”

It took her friend a hair longer than she normally would to catch on but when she did, Ellie tightened the belt of her robe and asked, “As in King Arthur’s Guinevere?”

“Yes,” Bridget assembled her thoughts. “We know she loves Arthur, the good man, the honorable knight and the benevolent king, who always does right by his people and here. But then there was Lancelot, the enticing one, the man who tempted her into sin.

“We don’t know much about Guinevere, but I’d imagine her to be a calm, rational-headed Miss who would know that it was wrong to be tempted by trouble… though she still allowed it to happen.”

“I feel there is a question somewhere in there, but first…” Ellie sat beside her. “We have to realize both men were not entirely good nor entirely evil. Lancelot was a knight, who stood by Arthur’s side and did many gallant deeds, but his fallible desire for her makes us all paint him as a villain. The same can go for the King too.”

Chewing her lip, Bridget searched for the right question. “Given that both have their faults, how do you know when you’ve met the right gentleman?”

“I wish I knew, dear, or I would be married by now, but I suppose the socially endorsed response is for you to choose the man with the spotless reputation, who does not easily fall into the vices, has a good bloodline, and does not want for money.

“If both parties are attracted to each other, that is lovely, but I would settle for mutual respect and dignity.”

From that perspective, Lord Hansen is the right choice. He is titled and wealthy, not to mention very handsome. He is everything I should want.

Ellie continued, “But my family was not one to fall into those lines so much. While my mother and father did have a marriage of convenience, they made sure to tell me that money and status are not everything. There are things that cannot be solved by having blue blood or Midas’ coffers.

“I, personally, would rather live with a man who values me as a person, who understands and accepts me for who I am, faults and all, where I can be free to be angry or sad, or vulnerable without being judged or shunted to the side.”

Ellie sighed. “I suppose feeling his kiss down to my toes would help too. Someone who knows his way around a woman’s body.”

Bridget gaped. “But that would mean—”

“We all secretly desire it but outwardly condemn a man for seducing a woman,” Ellie snorted. “The hypocrisy, I tell you.”

The silence that descended over them was soft and melded into the contemplative air the two shared. Bridget could not help but compare the kisses—and felt ashamed when she acknowledged that Duke Arlington won by a mile.

“Are you having doubts about Hansen?” Ellie forged on. “…and seeing as you were comparing Arthur and Lancelot, is there another gentleman in the kerfuffle? Do you want to tell me who he is?”

“I cannot,” Bridget sighed. “Or, I would rather not, because it’s ... complicated.”

“Let us make this a hypothetical situation then,” Ellie said calmly.

Warily, Bridget nodded. “Go on.”

“Is it that you have found yourself attracted to a gentleman you ought not be attracted to and wish these imprudent feelings would be for a proper man instead, and would that other gentleman happen to be… the Duke of Arlington?”

Bridget’s head snapped up. “What? N-no, I could n-never—”

Ellie’s pointed brow had Bridget clamping her lips fast enough, her teeth clicked shut. She then sighed, shoulders slumping, looking everywhere but at her friend. “It’s a long story and you might not believe me.”

“That’s what I expected,” her friend laughed. “Should I call for tea… or something stronger?”

“Wine,” Bridget told her. “I think for what I shall tell you, wine is best.”

A quarter of an hour later and with all secrets divulged, Bridget kept her eyes down, not ready to see her friend’s face or the judgment it might carry.

“I must say,” Ellie cleared her throat finally. “ That certainly is a tale.”

“I must be apple-pated to ask him for such a favor,” Bridget bemoaned, hiding her face with both hands. “I should have gone to Graham instead. What was I thinking?”

“Mayhaps how well he kissed, paired with the fact that he owed you a debt,” Ellie teased.

Covering her face in her hands, Bridget groaned. “Please help me. I do not have the faintest inkling of what to do here.”

“What were the options Duke Arlington has given you again?” Ellie added a splash of wine to her glass and after Bridget reiterated them, the lady sighed. She gave Bridget an unwelcome grimace. “I know you do not want to hear this, but the third option is the best.”

“But Lord Hansen!” Bridget’s mouth dropped. “He is—”

“He will understand if you outline the situation to him as you have done with me,” Ellie counseled. “Lady Prudence Warrington is holding a ball tomorrow night. I have it on good authority that the ball is going to be a crush and the crème-de-la-crème of the ton will be attending. Talk to him there.”

“Ellie,” Bridget’s voice was wavering. “I am three-and-twenty, on the cusp of spinsterhood. If I do not marry now…”

“You will be fine,” Ellie said strongly. “As I said, explain it to him. If he is still willing to be with you, he will offer to do these things for you! If not, invite him to attend these meetings with the duke and yourself. Find a loophole in the situation, just like the duke did. Honestly, Bridget, the duke’s offer supersedes anything Hansen could ever give you.”

“But… why are you telling me this now?” Bridget asked, confused. “You told me to see out Hansen.”

“That was before I knew the truth about you and Arlington, and it seems to me you have already made up your mind on who to choose, whether you want to accept it or not,” Ellie smiled weakly. “I am so sorry, dear.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Bridget hated to accept that truth… that deep down, she knew full well, her friend was not wrong.