Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

D awn found Bridget unprepared and a touch reluctant knowing that she had a lot of explaining to do that day, not only with Eleanor, but with her godmother whom she was about to leave for.

She looked down at her packed bags when Ellie walked into the room, her face placid. “I suppose last night went well, then?”

She turned. “We’re engaged.”

Eleanor frowned. “You don’t mean Hansen—”

“No,” she looked away, “Duke Arlington.”

Bridget suddenly found herself enveloped in a warm hug and her mouth dropped in shock. Hesitantly, she hugged her friend back and tried to smile. “I take it you’re… happy?”

“Extremely,” Ellie replied, pulling away. “I know it is not the marriage you imagined you’d have but I truly believe the duke can put you in a position Hansen would never be able to do.”

“The Duke…” she paused. “He proposed a marriage of convenience, and after a while, he will separate us while he goes his way. He is leaving me to live a life I choose with a handsome purse.”

“Oh,” Ellie blinked. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Bridget sunk into a nearby chair, her head lowering. “It is… if I didn’t find him so dratted attractive. He’s shown a part of himself he keeps away from others. Yes, he is the hard-boiled rakehell he has shown the world, but he is…” she fought to find the right words. “What he shows us is like armor around his true self.

“It is a part of him but, at the same time… it is a fa?ade,” she muttered. “I am not saying he is Shakespeare reborn or Byron in another suit, he is not a man of tender sentiment, but he is not a cold, unfeeling man either. And he is… he is lonely. I felt it from the start, and it had drawn me.”

Ellie canted her head. “I am surprised that you sensed that much in the little time you have known him.”

“He is like a faceted gem,” Bridget said softly. “And the curious thing is, I have yet to see the other sides of him.”

“Hm.” Ellie sounded sly. “Sounds to me that you want to see more of him. My, my, it sounds like you have—”

“Don’t you dare,” Bridget tried to glare but it fell flat. “It is just a means to an end and he is going to search for my brother as an additional benefit.”

“I know marriage should be about the mating of two souls, about love and passion, not the joining of business interests—but most ton marriages are based on practical considerations. I wish it were the other way around, but truthfully, Bridget, this is smart for you.

“’Tis only sad that he is such a hardened rake and men like him have a natural resistance against getting leg-shackled, but if he made the offer—” Ellie shrugged. “I do hope you will have a genuine companionship during the time you are married though.”

“So do I,” Bridget exhaled, holding back on how attractive she found William and the feelings he evoked from her.

A footman came to the door just then, bowing. “Lady Bridget, Duke Arlington’s carriage has arrived for you.”

Nervously, she stood and handed the valise over to the footman, then hugged Ellie. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, dear,” Ellie replied, “Josie and I will be taking you for a celebratory luncheon sometime this week. And I hope you will not succumb to His Grace’s insidious charm.”

Too late.

“I promise,” Bridget replied, her smile tremulous.

Stepping into the windy day, she gazed at the blue lacquered carriage, its thick navy drapes drawn, the ducal seal of a falcon, and swords glinting gold under the sunlight. As she glanced at the dappled set of four horses, she knew her life had taken a drastic turn.

The door opened and William descended—his fawn breeches and fine lawn shirt gave him a very casual look she had never seen before. It was avant-garde, and shocking, of the man to look so casual—some would say under-dressed—out in public.

“Surprised to see me this way?” His lips curved.

“Yes,” she replied breathily. “It’s not…”

“Appropriate?” he laughed, holding out his hand.

“Especially en route to meet the family of the lady you are about to marry,” Bridget countered.

“I realize, but then again, I am not one to conform to everyone else’s standards.”

“Those are the rules of the land, sir,” she replied dryly. “Especially those of the Upper Ten Thousand.”

He shrugged. “You already know how I feel about the ton.”

Hiding her smile, she took his assistance inside and sat facing him, noticing that his shirt looked loved, his breeches worn, and his boots scuffed; this was an outfit he had worn many times before. “Were you riding before you came for me?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It helps me think.”

“I can understand that,” she nodded. “Repetitive motions, things you can do without focusing too hard on them, do let your mind roam.”

“And what comes up when your mind does roam?” he asked cunningly.

“How to make meat pie,” she replied flatly.

He threw his head back and laughed. “I like a woman who can think on her feet and go toe-to-toe in a battle of wits.”

“I haven’t had the company to exercise that muscle much,” she admitted. “I like witty banter but most of the ladies only concern themselves with the newest fashion or if silk is better than lace. No one wants to talk about the tiers of ancient Roman society or what was Alexander the Great’s reason for dominating the East, spreading Hellenistic culture as he went.”

His brows inched up. “You have those ideas ruminating in the back of your head?”

“Sometimes,” she sighed. “I was the proud bluestocking of Lady Easton’s School for Accomplished Ladies. My teachers adored me but the rest of the girls not so much.”

“How did you know?”

“It is very telling when you approach a group of girls and they all fall silent the moment you are within five feet of them,” Bridget replied matter-of-factly. “I did find two bosom friends though, Lady Eleanor and Lady Josephine. They stayed with me even after my family fell from grace.”

“Hm,” William trapped his fingertips on the windowsill. “I have had the same experience. My friends from Oxford and Eton have been with me since the worst of times.”

She inclined her head. “How bad?”

“I was one-and-twenty. The very night I got my fifty thousand, I went to Whites, the so-called bastion of male camaraderie, and drank myself into a wheelbarrow—literally. I woke up on the banks of the Thames, wet, and had somehow decided to sleep in a rotten pushcart, half-naked.”

“Oh, my word,” she pressed a hand to her heart.

“When Colin Lightholder, Baron Thornbury , and Andrew Pembroke, Viscount Sutton found me, stinking of brine, sick to my stomach, an inch away from contracting consumption, I was told I had gambled my estate away on a game of Faro, that luckily I’d won and the other lord had put up his house somewhere in Oxford that I’d won also.”

She leaned in, eyes intent. “What did you do?”

“By right, I should have taken the house and used it to my benefit, but then the lord came begging, telling me his wife and incapacitated mother were in the house, and that he could not afford to lose it. So I left it in his hands.” William shrugged. “He pays me a hundred pounds every year but that sum is set aside and I have not touched it.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “No reason. Just not interested, I suppose.”

I bet there is. Maybe you feel guilty about almost taking his home from him.

Sitting back, Bridget gazed at him with curiosity as another piece set itself into the puzzle that was the Beast of Brookhaven.

William, she reminded herself. There are two sides to him. The person he wants others to see is the Beast of Brookhaven, the person he wants me to see is William Hartwell.

He raised a brow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She wiped her face into a look of pure innocence. “Like what?”

“As if I am a mystery you are trying to solve,” he replied. “What I present to you is who I am.”

“Actually, no you are not,” she said quietly. “I have observed you from the moment we interacted. You have two lives, Sir . The rakehell is who you want others to see, a dissolute profligate void of norms and values, only seeking his own pleasure by whatever means necessary. But in private, you have heart, compassion, and a conscience.

“What circumstances have prevented you from showing this true, noble character? What is stopping you from showing yourself as a kind and decent man?”

His expression shifted from curiosity to nonchalance. “You are the first person who has ever accused me of such a thing. Be careful not to spread such fabrications around. I have a reputation to protect.”

“I see I will have a bit of time to get the truth out of you yet,” Bridget murmured. “I think I should add as stubborn as a bull to your repertoire.”

“Should I repay the favor?” William asked.

“Please,” Bridget bit back wryly.

“You have a soft demeanor, but circumstances have made you develop a core of steel,” he began. “Your life is a question of what the most prudent decision is to make but not what makes you happy.

“You would sacrifice your pride to survive another day, and while modesty is becoming—somehow along the way, you have begun to allow other’s views of you to shape how you see yourself. You are smart, but you diminish your ability to appease other’s opinions of you.”

“That is—”

Quick as a flash, William pulled the shade down and drew her onto his lap. Caging her face with both hands, he forced her eyes to meet his. “Your beauty outclasses every lady I have ever met. You are gorgeous, Bridget, but others have convinced you your poverty means you are undeserving of attention. Yet you are beautiful.”

He yanked her against him. A shocking collision of softness against hardness. Before she could gather her wits, his mouth sealed over hers, his kiss stealing her breath.

A possessive rumble rose from his throat, and then he was kissing her again. His hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her steady as he plundered her mouth, driving his tongue through her lips.

William’s heat, feel, cologne, infused her senses and fed his hunger, but her soft mewl of discontent halted him. Pulling away, he ground his teeth. “I am sorry. I got over amorous. If I overstepped—”

“No,” Bridget breathed, her face flushed. “It's just, erm, you are… burgeoned. I feel you under my thigh… and I don’t want my godmother to see your state.”

A laugh burst from his lips, and he dropped his forehead to tuck it under her neck. His broad hands held her firmly, but his mirth kept coming. “Devil and damn,” he snorted. “I have never been in this position before.”

“…Burgeoned?”

“No,” he lifted his head. “Meeting a lady’s family.”

He drew a laugh from her. “I suppose those companions of yours did not merit such a meeting.”

“God no,” he chuckled while gently depositing her on her original seat. “You must pardon me for such inadequacies. I should have asked Colin about his tactic for meeting a lady’s family. He might be a seasoned rake, but he has courted before.”

“And not yet married?”

“The lady chose another over him, and I suppose, ever since, he decided courting was not worth the effort.” Reaching for a box to the side, he took out a cravat.

As he began to tie it, she asked, “You know the knots?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t by choice, but necessity made sure I could take care of myself. While it was not the best of circumstances, I learned a lot of practical skills such as how to tie my cravat and trim my facial hair.”

“Those circumstances… meaning the days you were in debt up to your ears?” Bridget summarized.

“Perfectly put.” William tied his neckcloth into a precise waterfall, then pulled a jacket from a hook behind him. “Necessity is the mother of invention, or, well, education.”

The carriage was trotting up the lane to Bridget’s godmother’s home, and when the vehicle slowed to a halt at the cottage, he descended and helped her alight, before he tugged his jacket down. She fixed her skirts, then went to the door and unlocked it.

“Aunt?” she called. “Can you come down, please? Duke Arlington and I would like to speak to you.” She pulled her coat off and then turned to William. “Give me a minute.”

Heading up the stairs, she went to her godmother’s room and found the older lady pulling her dressing robe on. “I am coming, dear.”

Just in case, she stayed beside her aunt, though didn’t have to help her aunt down, and when they finally came to the lower level, William was waiting for them at the landing, before he bowed and helped the older lady to her seat. “My lady.”

Lydia’s brows lifted. “Please excuse me for not curtsying, Your Grace, but my knees are not as they used to be.”

“Completely understandable, ma’am,” William replied warmly. “I think it’s a simple courtesy to tell you that I have offered marriage to your lovely goddaughter, and she has accepted.”

He then drew a suede bag from his inner pocket and pulled out a gold ring with a set of flawless white diamonds, creating a ring beyond compare. A ring fit for a Duchess.

“This is the last part of the agreement.” He asked for Bridget’s hand, and when she extended it, he slid the ring on, then rubbed over her knuckles. “It was my mothers.”

“Duke Arlington,” Lydia finally said. “Our firewood is running low. Would you be a dear and go chop some for us? The ax and firewood are out back, thank you.”

It was clear it was not a request, but an order, and while William’s brows lifted at realizing such a thing, he silently shrugged off his jacket and unfastened his cravat. “It would be my pleasure.”

As he left the backdoor, Bridget asked, “Aunt, what did you do that for?”

“To allow us ladies a little privacy,” Lydia replied, tapping her turban. “I have not been in the ton for years, but I can recognize a rake when I see one. I know he is a duke, my dear, but are you sure about this? Weren’t you being courted by an eligible young earl—”

“No, Aunt.” Taking a deep breath for courage, she added, “I am not interested in any other gentleman. It might not be a love match, but it is the one I have chosen.”

“You cannot mean with this man,” Lydia said sharply. “The man has the air of a dangerous scoundrel, a veritable blackguard.”

“He is not a blackguard,” Bridget countered, hurt for William’s sake. “He has a good heart, and I want you to have some time with him to see it’s true. Beyond all that, he has a true and noble character.”

“Listen to me, my dear, the reformation of rakes is the stuff of fiction. In real life, a pretty girl can no more change a man’s heart than a leopard can its own spots.”

Again, I hear the same lines.

Her aunt had a point, but Bridget could not— would not—budge on this; William was the only help she could get to find Frederick. Her eyes flickered out the window just as William was rolling up his sleeves.

The sun burnished the thick waves of his hair and the spattering of hair on his powerful forearms. As she watched, he grasped the worn ax, placed a log on the chopping block, and swung the ax in an efficient arc, splitting the wood neatly in two.

Turning back to her godmother, Bridget began, “I understand your concern, and how you might think me to be a na?f or that I am putting myself in danger of being utterly undone, but please hear me on this, Aunt, he is not what he seems.

“I know he is the sort every mama tells their daughters to run far from, but I see a part of him that no one else sees. I ask you to please trust me on this, Aunt. He is also my only hope to find Frederick.”

“Oh, darling. My fear is that his attention will fade in time and your heart will shatter. It is clear by your face that you feel for this boy more than you would like to admit,” Lydia murmured, “while he might think of you as an amusement.”

“He is not like that,” Bridget replied, nervously twisting the ring. She felt the doubt in her words, because, in truth, she did not know William enough to say such positive words. “I know you have your doubts, Aunt, but please trust me to know my own mind.”

“What about the other lord?”

“Lord Hansen? I have gotten over him. He wasn’t at all the gentleman I thought he was.”

“How was he not a gentleman?” Lydia gaped at her. “Did he make inappropriate advances toward you?” Her cheeks burned.

“No, no, nothing like that! It is just… he never struck me the same way as William,” she replied slowly. “I… I chose what was in my heart in the end. And that was Duke Arlington.”

Her aunt did not look impressed, but her face mellowed. “I have to trust you to do what is right. But please, my dear, tread carefully.”

Somewhat pleased that her aunt had relented, Bridget slipped her ring off because she felt something inside and did not know what it was. “ Confortentur .”

Was that… Latin?

The stomp of boots had her glancing up and William entered, his head almost eclipsed by the pile of precisely cut firewood. “I hope this will do.”

“Oh my,” Lydia nodded. “That will do handsomely. Thank you, Your Grace.”

Crouching on one knee, he rested them on the rack, and Bridget unashamedly admired the muscles popping under his breeches and the wiry strength of his forearms; his rock-hard virility quickened her breath.

Standing, he dusted his hands together and asked, “Would you like to come to the manor tonight and we wed in the morning, or would you rather stay here?”

It was completely unheard of for a lady to sleep in the lord’s house before marriage—but they were engaged, weren’t they? Nervously, she decided to do something unheard of. “I would like to stay with you.”

“Well, in that case, please pack some essentials, and I will send for the rest tomorrow. Ma’am,” William turned to her aunt, “the invitation is extended to you also.”

“Thank you, but I would much prefer to stay in my home,” Lydia replied.

“My personal carriage will come for you tomorrow so you can attend the wedding,” William promised.

Nervously, Bridget left the room to hastily pack the best dresses and nightwear she had that would serve for a few days, and carefully folded a blue silk dress into her bag—it would be her wedding gown.

Downstairs, she heard her aunt. “—don’t break her heart, Your Grace. The poor girl has had it ripped apart time after time.”

“I promise,” William replied steadily. “I realize I am the antithesis of the man you would prefer for your goddaughter, but I promise to make her life—and yours by extension—easier.”

“I will keep you to your word,” Lydia finished. “Do not disappoint me.”