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“They will,” Sarah reassured her. “We will ensure they do.”
“How? He will not touch me.”
Sarah smiled. “He is a man, and I am sure he will notice your feminine charms if we draw his attention to them.”
“Are you suggesting I seduce him?”
“Yes, precisely that. I know you want children, Bridget.”
“I do, but…I am content that I am not a spinster, and Magnus is out of my life.”
“You deserve to have a true marriage, dear Bridget. This castle should be filled with children and laughter.”
She saw hope flicker in her eyes through her reflection. Bridget was certain she had seen desire in Harry’s eyes the night she went to his study. Perhaps she could truly make him want her, and have the children she had always dreamed of.
“I will do it,” she declared. “Will you advise me?”
“I will be happy to!” Sarah grinned. “Now, Lady Belinda is waiting for us. We shall talk more after our visit to the village,” she added as she finished styling her hair.
Bridget was feeling better when they rode out of Grayfield. There were four of them in the carriage: herself, Belinda, Sarah, and Mrs. Piper, who knew the village and its people more than any of them.
The first cottage they visited belonged to the farmer who worked the largest barley field in the region; they were received by his wife. She was cordial but cold.
Awkwardly, Bridget presented her with a basket of gifts. “From the Duke and myself,” she said.
The woman regarded the basket, then shook her head. “We do not want his gifts, Your Grace. We want our rent lowered, and our broken houses repaired.”
Bridget swallowed. “Yes, all of these shall be attended to in due course. Please, accept our gift.”
The woman reluctantly accepted it. They encountered many displeased tenants, and while some were happy with the gifts, many were as reluctant as the first, and some rejected them outright.
One such person was the wife of Mr. Bailey, who regarded the basket for a moment, then turned away. “We ain’t accepting that, Your Grace. There ain’t a good it’ll do us.”
“There might be something there that you might need,” Belinda said before Bridget could put in a word. “Something for the children, perhaps.”
“Our pride is more important,” Mrs. Bailey said. “Until the Duke respects us, we want nothing from him.”
Bridget knew that apologizing on her husband’s behalf would not help, thus, she said, “There shall come a change in your circumstances soon.” There was a silent promise in her words. She will seek a way to help these people. Mrs. Bailey did not seem convinced, but Bridget did not expect her to be.
When they reached the village square, they found a small crowd, and at the center was the vicar who had married her and Harry. When he saw her, he smiled.
“Ah, the Duchess is here,” he said to the crowd.
“Where is the Duke?” a woman asked, her mouth turned down.
“He sends his best wishes,” Bridget said, feeling very confused and ill at ease.
“We have never seen him!” said another woman. “This Duke and his father never gave a tinker’s damn about us!” A man shouted from behind her. “They only want our coin in their pockets.”
The crowd was around her now, their protests filling her ears and clenching her insides. They were gravely unhappy, and she did not know how she could help them.
“I assure you,” she tried to say, “the Duke cares. He—“
“Tell him to come to the village. We will believe it when we see him and have our rent lowered.”
Bridget could not breathe now. An angry woman took hold of her wrist. “My babe is hungry. We cannot feed him because our money has gone to taxes and your castle!” She tried to wrest her hand free but the woman’s hold was very strong.
“Step away now!” a male voice barked. The crowd parted, and the woman released Bridget’s wrist. She frantically looked around, her gaze settling on Mr. Belmont, who pushed his way through. “Is this how you will treat your Duchess?” he said to them, and they gradually fell silent.
