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“Oh, that is no longer my way, old chap,” Joseph shook his head, partaking in a sip. The liquid clenched the inside of his throat then clawed its way down. “I have started to become rather bored of it.”
Seth seemed to feign disappointment. “But you were such a good role model.”
Joseph wondered whether to take that as an insult or a compliment. He opted for the latter. “Every man needs to grow up at some point, I suppose.”
“But not marry, I hope?” his uncle jumped in quickly, his glass trembling ever so slightly in his hand.
“No,” Joseph assured him once again. “I know of my reputation, and I’m afraid that it doesn’t provide me with many morals, something I would like to change. But as for the general notion of the way I wish to lead my life, liberated from the constraints of a marriage and the requirement to produce an heir, that still stands as strongly as ever.”
“Ah, good,” his uncle said with a blessed smile, sinking back into his armchair, and bringing his glass to his lips. Joseph could tell that his uncle was relieved to hear this. After all, a promise is a promise.
“Just remember that you needn’t rush to get married,” Joseph told Seth with the best intentions in mind. “Life is too short to spend it with someone who will not understand you.”
He swallowed heavily at those words. He wished to say so much more about it, but he bit his tongue. His parent’s marriage seemed pure perfection on the outside. His mother had always been a most dutiful wife, a mother who would have given her life for her children as she almost did. She hung on the border between life and death during the birth of her second child, who being a girl was deemed unworthy by her husband and was, thus, sent off to a boarding school as soon as his father deemed it the right time. His word was the law, and those who refused to abide by it, were shunned. Joseph felt that scourge on his own skin, and so did his mother.
Life was truly too short to be spent with someone who would not understand him, Joseph thought. The fate his mother had to endure was worse than death. She never said it in those words, of course, but he had witnessed her pain over the years. She smiled, but her eyes revealed all the most painful, heartbreaking truth.
No. Joseph would never marry. He would never have any children. If that meant that he would never have Bridget Beaumont in his arms… well, so be it.
Chapter 9
“The weather is lovely.” Sarah was the first one to speak. “Just perfect for a stroll through the park.”
It was an unusual setting. The inside of the Duke’s carriage was a perfect square, making the three of them needlessly closer to one another than they ought to be. Ever since they stepped inside, Bridget did not let go of Sarah’s hand. Normally, she would not hold her sister while seated or even while walking through familiar grounds, but there was something about this day which would not let her be.
“I am grateful that both you and your sister accepted my invitation,” he replied politely, and Bridget’s ears attuned to notice his voice which came right across from her.
“Please feel at liberty to write directly to me or my sister,” Sarah started then halted. Bridget recognized the hesitation immediately. Although she could not see it, but she was certain that her sister had blushed at the insinuation that there would be more meetings. “If need be, of course,” she added hastily in order to clear the air.
“I wondered how I would write to Bridget,” he said, sounding lost in thought. His question was so funny that Bridget had to chuckle.
“With a pen on paper?” she suggested, and he immediately laughed.
It was such a heartwarming sound to hear him laugh so freely with such lack of constraint. The three of them here was so cozy and intimate; it felt like she was a part of something important, regardless of whether he would be writing to her or her sister.
The sound of his voice made him appear so close, even dangerously so. If she only extended her hand in front of her, she would be able to touch him, embrace him, cup his face with her hands, and truly see him for herself, instead of solely through the eyes of someone else. She wanted to do that more than anything, but that was a wish that would be born and die silently on her lips. All she could do was keep pushing him away because that was better for everyone involved, especially her.
“Perhaps one should stick to writing letters to people who can actually see what’s written,” she reminded him although she did not lose the playful tone of her voice.
“Honestly, I much rather prefer speaking to writing,” he admitted a little awkwardly. “If it were up to me, I would have just appeared in front of Fernside Manor and inquired whether you were free to come for a stroll at that moment, immediately.”
Bridget and Sarah chuckled as if he had said the most preposterous thing in the world. In a way, that was what it was.
“Imagine the look on Mama’s face!” Sarah couldn’t cease with her laughter. “She would be utterly stunned!”
“But would it not be better?” he wondered, and it sounded like a rhetorical question, but Bridget still preferred to answer it.
“That depends,” she told him. It was at this point that she released her sister’s hand, feeling strangely emboldened. The small, confined space did not make her feel uncomfortable any longer. His voice was too soothing, and his presence too overpowering for her not to let go.
“On what?” he asked curiously.
“On–” she started, but apparently, there was a hole in the road, and the carriage bumped so strongly that Bridget was made to swallow her words and expel only air once she was settled back down in her seat.
“Is everyone all right?” the Duke, always the gentleman, inquired of both Ladies.
“Yes,” Sarah nodded, breathing slightly heavily. Bridget echoed her sister’s words.
“It would seem that Philip thinks he is driving three bags of potatoes and not three people,” Joseph tried a joke, and it was a success. Bridget could not hear her sister’s reaction to it, for she was too busy smiling and focusing on the way he smelled and the way he breathed.
