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Bridget’s voice echoed through the wind as thunder roared somewhere in the distance. Rain was imminent. It would not do any of them any good to remain outside, risking getting drenched. One look at the clouds moving in to cover the starry sky assured them all that rain would unleash itself upon the city of London any moment now.
The two men turned in the direction where the voice was coming from. Sarah and Bridget were running towards them, their gowns fluttering about them as the wind toyed with the hems. Oliver’s hand trembled in the air, mid-way between his own face and Joseph’s. It the moment of reckoning.
Bridget could not see what Oliver had decided. All she knew was what Sarah had told her as they started to rush in their direction.Oliver is fighting with Joseph!The sting of those words still bound itself to Bridget, unwilling to let go.
“Oliver?” Her voice trembled.
Oliver hesitated before replying. He lowered his fist. Bridget could tell that was what happened because of Sarah’s relaxed grip on her hand which had been tight only a moment ago. There was less aggression.
“Please do not harm Joseph,” Bridget pleaded. “He is not to blame for any of this.”
“Bridget, stay out of this,” her brother snarled at her although she could sense the underlying tone of hurt and a profound desire to protect her.
“I will not stay out of this,” she replied, taking a step closer to them. “I am directly involved, and you cannot expect me to hold my peace.”
“That is not what I meant,” Oliver tried to explain.
“You have not been listening to a word I’ve told you,” she continued. “I already said the man who approached me on the balcony was not Joseph. I… I know Joseph. I would know him from any other man in the entire world just like I would know you, Oliver. Please, believe me when I say that it was not him. It was someone who bore a striking similarity to him.”
“That makes no sense,” Oliver replied with less conviction. He was at least considering what she was saying this time.
“Oliver,” Joseph intervened. “I understand why you are doing this. The blow you’ve handed me was well deserved. I would have done the same if I thought someone approached my own sister in such a manner. In fact, I might have been even more violent than you to be honest. But listen to your sister. Bridget knows me. I am certain of it.”
“Ididthink it was you, at first,” she admitted, feeling more daring than she initially thought she would be. “But the moment I touched his face, I could see the difference, if you’ll pardon my expression.” She even managed a smile this time. She could not tell if anyone else was smiling, though. But her own smile was enough.
“How could you initially think it was him then change your mind?” Oliver still sounded incredulous.
“Because I did not touch him,” she said then bit her lower lip, blushing agonizingly. “Not at first.” She was ashamed that she kissed someone who was not Joseph even though she was tricked into doing it. The shame felt palpable all the same.
“What happened when you touched him?” Joseph asked. She could hear no judgment in his voice. She was grateful for that. “What did he look like?”
“I, well…” She did her best trying to remember. Her fingertips fluttered in the air, evoking images of lines and the sensations of someone’s skin underneath those same fingertips. “I first heard that his voice was different. Again, it sounded like yours but not quite so. It was somewhat shriller, not as deep or as masculine. That was the first thing I noticed. When I asked, he said that he drank port with too much ice.”
She paused, bringing back the memory of the man’s face.
“What did he look like?” Oliver echoed. “How did you notice it was not Joseph?”
“His nose was a bit bigger,” Bridget started to describe the man as best as she could. The cold wind chilled her to the bone, but no one even considered returning back inside before this mystery was solved. “His jawline was less refined. His cheekbones were less prominent. I honestly do not know when I knew it was not you… I kept tracing the lines of his face, and at some point, my mind recognized him as not you. I do not know how else to explain it.”
“That is the only way you need to explain it,” Joseph said, now much closer to her than he was a moment ago. His presence only seemed to remind her that he had become as essential to her as the air she was breathing. How could she ever kiss someone who was not him? How could she not immediately see this?
“What about the man’s height?” Oliver suddenly asked as if he had remembered something helpful.
“Height?” Bridget repeated. “He was about the same height, I would say. Also, he was wearing the exact same cologne.” This realization only resurfaced now that she was next to Joseph again. She would recognize that scent anywhere.
“In that case, we are searching for someone who bears a striking similarity to Joseph,” Oliver announced.
Bridget looked at him. Prevented from seeing whether he was smiling back at her, she allowed her heart to reply in her brother’s place. With that one question, he had thrown all doubts away like shackles of his own blindness, and now, he could finally see. All he needed to do was surrender to someone whose eyesight was more keen than his own.
“It cannot be…” Joseph spoke to himself, his voice trembling.
“What can’t?” Oliver asked.
The silence around them was cut by yet another onslaught of thunder in the distance, only much closer this time. Bridget’s skin erupted in gooseflesh, partly due to the oncoming chill of the rain, and partly because a stranger had approached her as if he knew her, endeavoring to take advantage of her. A strange mixture or rage and shame took hold of her as her entire body quivered in disbelief.
“There is only one person I know who looks that much like me,” Joseph mused. “My cousin Seth Turner.”
“Where is he?” Oliver hollered. Bridget could not believe she was hearing her own brother’s voice so enraged and out for blood.
