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Harry stood when she entered, then crossed the room to take the tray from her, murmuring, “We have servants, Bridget.”
She smiled. “I enjoy bringing you tea, Harry. Allow me the pleasure, please.”
The corners of his mouth curved into a half-smile. “Very well, if you insist. What are we having tonight?”
“Chamomile and gin,” she said, pouring the brew into two cups and adding a dash of gin to each. After handing him his tea, she picked up hers and went to sit in one of the chairs by the fire, gazing into the dancing flames for a moment before turning her eyes to him when he took the other chair.
“The Earl and Countess of Dilworth have invited us to a ball. They are hosting a house party and wish to be acquainted with me,” she said, and Harry’s sharp jaw immediately tightened.
“When is the ball?” he asked, sipping his tea and swallowing tensely. Bridget had been hoping he would agree to attend the ball with her and Belinda, but it seemed he was already rejecting the notion.
“It is in two days.”
“I suppose you wish to attend.”
“Yes. Will you?” It was a pointless question but she asked it, nevertheless.
Harry did not respond and only sipped his tea, his eye on the fire in the hearth. Bridget bit her lower lip, deciding it was best not to ask him any of the questions she had tonight. She drank her tea slowly, continuing to stare into the mesmerizing hearth.
“Belinda and I shall attend,” she said after a long moment. “It will speak well of our family.”
Harry nodded but said nothing, and this wounded her. She thought he would, at the very least, tell her why. Yes, she knew it had much to do with his scar and what he considered a deformation, but she wanted to know more. Leaning forward, she placed a hand on his, drawing his eye to her.
“Will you tell me why?” she asked softly. He sighed and rose, holding his hand to her.
He kissed her knuckles. “Allow me to walk you back to your chambers,” he said.
That is it? He is not going to answer me?The pain from his disregard turned to ire, and she pulled her hand from his grip.
“No. Good night, Your Grace.” She turned on her heel and walked out of his study, eyes stinging with the final ray of hopelessness.
Chapter 18
Bridget closed the door behind her and leaned against it, taking in large gulps of air to keep herself from crying. She felt alone in that short moment. All she wanted was for him to care enough to tell her what he felt, what he thought. Instead, she was being punished for her own caring, her attentions ignored.
She had promised to be patient but discovering that she knew nothing about him had caused her to ignore her plan. She had not been able to help herself.This marriage is a convenient arrangement,she told herself, wrapping her arms around her body.I must not cry. I should not have expected anything more.
A tear fell down her cheek and she cursed, blinking rapidly and scrubbing her face with her hands. She straightened and rang for Sarah before going to sit on the divan by her sitting-room window.
When Sarah walked in, Bridget felt her chin quiver. The sight of a familiar face caused her emotions to well up inside.
“What happened?” Sarah sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
She took several deep breaths before she spoke. “I am foolish. I yearn for his affections,” she finally gave voice to the source of her disquietude. Her affections for her husband had grown, and slowly, she had been sliding down a slope she feared she might never find her way back if she reached the bottom, and she would be lost altogether if Harry remained taciturn.
“Oh, Bridget!” Sarah murmured soothingly.
“Am I a fool for wishing to give him my heart?” she asked.
“No, you are not. Matters of the heart are very delicate.” Sarah drew away to look at her, smiling slightly with her brows a touch furrowed. “Do not reproach yourself for feeling this way.”
“He does not tell me anything.”
“Perhaps what he requires is a trifle more patience from you.”
Bridget gazed out the window, which overlooked the gardens. Work had already begun but the grounds still appeared dark and dreary. “I told myself moments ago that this marriage is only an arrangement of convenience. I’m scared. Because it no longer is that for me but I fear it will always be for him.”
“Come now, my dear, you mustn’t think this way. Give him time,” Sarah reminded. “Time solves a lot, you know.”
