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“The last time I saw him, he was back inside the ballroom,” Joseph responded.
“For his own sake, I hope he is no longer there!” Oliver snarled, then rushed back towards the house, leaving Sarah, Bridget and Joseph all alone outside.
* * *
Standing in front of her as he was now, Joseph’s ability to speak had come to a halt. Laden with anger, confusion, desire and love, he could not decide which of those emotions to act on first. She herself was the strongest pull. His heart was lighter than it had been upon his arrival. The knot of sensations inside of his abdomen were still entangled into a knot, but one look at her assured him of the right course of action. Their place was not apart but together. His love could be contained no longer, especially not now, knowing that Seth had tried to take advantage of her.
“Bridget, I…” he started, but all he could do was allow the entire world around them to fall apart while the only two constants that remained were her and him.
There were so many things he wanted to tell her. Apologies, assurances, confessions. But most of all, he wished to be granted the chance to tell her how much he missed her every day that he did not see her. Almost like one would miss air when submerged underneath the water for far too long. But here was not the place neither was it the time.
“Yes?” she said, her lips parting— those lips he kissed so passionately; those same lips he refused to allow anyone else to kiss.
No more running. No more hiding. Refusing to be happy with someone simply to spite a dead man now seemed ludicrous. To make his son remain a miserable wretch of a man during his entire life would be the old Duke’s final victory. Joseph could see it clearly now. Much more clearly than before. Refraining from happiness was a punishment he had imposed upon himself. He should let the dead rest and be forgotten. That was the worst punishment. Forgetting.
“We need to speak,” he finally said, glancing at Sarah, who immediately recognized her cue to nod and turn away. Leaving them alone, however, was not an option. Disregarding who might see them, he took Bridget’s hand and brought it to his lips. Her skin was softer than rose petals, and it smelled as sweet. “But now is not the time.”
She gazed at him with those unfathomably deep, blue eyes which saw nothing but their own reflection. How he wished to be in them. How he wished to bathe in their soft, unearthly glow. But he would settle with being inside of her heart and mind. That would be more than enough.
“First, I need to say a few words to my cousin although, for the life of me, I am not certain how the man will speak without teeth.”
He could see her suppress a chuckle. “No,” she shook her head quickly. “Please, no violence. Not over me.”
He could not bear how sweet she was, how tender and forgiving. He did not deserve someone like that. Not the jaded person that he was. But that was the strength of such people. They transformed others with the power of their love.
“You are much too sweet,” he said, reluctant to let go of her hand, but he knew that Oliver needed his help back inside the ballroom. “I promise you, Bridget. Our conversation is not over. Our story is not over. It has only just begun.”
With those words, he released her hand then rushed back inside. He managed to find a frantic Oliver instantly, but there was no sign of his cousin.
“What do we do now?” Oliver asked, grinding his upper teeth against the lower ones, still sending daggers at the crowd around him.
“We shall go to his home tomorrow morning,” Joseph suggested.
“What if he is not there?”
“Oliver…” Joseph walked over to his friend and placed his hand on his shoulder in a gesture of commitment to their cause. “There is no place on earth that man can hide from us.”
The answer seemed to pacify Oliver, who merely nodded.
“Now, I suggest you take your sisters home,” Joseph suggested. “I doubt either of them could possibly enjoy the rest of this ball. Take them home. Make sure that they are both all right. And tomorrow morning, I shall come for you. Be prepared.”
Chapter 25
“Letmedo the talking if you will,” Oliver announced as the carriage oscillated across the uneven cobbled roads of London streets.
“I have no problem with that, old boy,” Joseph shrugged from across from Oliver, tilting his head a little as he spoke, “but what makes you think that Seth will admit what he’s done to someone with whom he’s barely exchanged a few words?”
“I have two very good reasons to believe he would,” Oliver raised both his fists, almost like a boxer ready for the fight of a lifetime.
Joseph could not resist laughing, lowering his head, hoping that his uncontrollable outburst would not offend his friend. “I apologize but seeing you in such a rough mood is a new sight. You have always been a peace-loving man, Oliver. I cannot possibly imagine you fighting. That is, I could not, until you planted me that facer.” His jaw palpitated at the very mention, and he had to scratch an invisible itch on that very same spot, awakening the pain of a bruise that had been slumbering up until that moment.
Oliver lowered his hands immediately, but the determination remained. “Bridget is… not like other women.”
“I know that,” Joseph was quick to add, but one glance from his friend assured him this was the moment to hold his peace.
“She is too tender and naïve for this world,” Oliver explained, turning his face away to look out of the window at the very world he was referring to. “To be quite honest, the entire family believes that she will remain at home for most of her life if not all. All she knows is the life inside the confines of Fernside Manor. That is not much experience, not much at all. So, when I asked you to leave both of my sisters alone, I meant it. I would have said the same to any man had he approached them in such a manner.”
“I completely understand, old boy.”
