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Bridget shook her head. In reality, she knew it was the truth. When her mother had passed, she thought she could not live through the pain. She thought she would never see her father smile again. But with patience, time healed many wounds inflicted during that trying time.
“Perhaps this will cheer you up. I have a letter for you.” Sarah reached into the pocket that hung from her frock and pulled it out. “It is from your father and brother.”
A smile softened her features and some of the weight in her chest was lifted. Bridget quickly reached for the letter and opened it.
Our dear Bridget,
Father saw me writing and insisted I write on his behalf, too. He is dictating at the moment but I have yet to write what he is saying. It is all tedious salutations, you see.
Society finds the subject of your marriage quite diverting, and the duke’s mysterious life has led to many speculations. All ridiculous, of course.
Bridget wrinkled her nose and blinked. She had hoped he would reveal what those speculations were.
‘The house is very quiet without you,’ said Father. Now that you are married to a peer of high ranking, we are hopeful that his esteem recovers in the House of Lords. I do not wish to bore you with this but I want you to know that your marriage is doing well for this family. I know what you are thinking, but I still will not admit that I was wrong about your union.
Bridget paused and rolled her eyes, smiling. Her brother would never admit his wrongs, not even with a pistol pressed into his back.
We shall come to visit you soon and remember, if you wish to escape that den of dread they call a castle, you need only write to me.
Love,
Andrew and Father.
She laughed at the manner in which he closed the letter. She felt better after reading and somehow more hopeful. A battle must not be fought alone, and she had allies she could be proud of. She needed them to rescue Harry from the darkness that shrouded him.
“Thank you, Sarah,” she said, giving her the letter to read. “I feel better already.”
Sarah squeezed her shoulders. “I knew you would be happy to read it.”
When Sarah finished reading the letter, also giggling a little at the end, she helped Bridget undress for bed. Tonight, too, she chose to sleep in Harry’s bed.
Chapter 19
It was the evening of the ball and Bridget stepped down from the carriage and looked up at the resplendent manor before her, illuminated by sconces on brick-lain walls, its windows polished to perfection. The grounds were immaculate, every landowner's dream.
But she was not concerned with the manor or its splendor. She was making her debut as the Duchess of Alderham and she was making it alone. Belinda was present but Bridget wanted Harry with her. This was an important night in her life and she wanted him by her side—she needed him.
She also missed him dearly because he spent his days in the brewery and only returned at sunset. Their dinners had been quiet and tense as of late, and she ate breakfast alone with Belinda and Cato. The last two days had been torturous.
The butler received their shawls and they were shown to the grand ballroom that made Bridget squint for its brightness.
“There is Lady Dilworth,” Belinda said, steering her toward the middle-aged lady with blonde hair. Bridget recalled being introduced to Lady Dilworth at the time of her debut as a naïve young woman, ambitious and hopeful, taking her first steps into high society. Needless to say, her positive outlook on society didn’t last long; the stigma of scandal could do that to someone.
Lady Dilworth beamed when she saw them, however, which greatly surprised Bridget. Her reputation prior to her marriage and Harry’s ought to make thetonwary of them, but then she remembered that Harry was a duke and titles were more respected than anything in this world.
“Your Grace,” Lady Dilworth greeted with a curtsy, “Lady Belinda, how glad we are to have you grace our ball tonight with your presence.”
Bridget inclined her head as she had learned to do since becoming a duchess, while Belinda said, “We are pleased to be here, Lady Dilworth. What a splendid evening.”
They engaged in polite talk, which Bridget could hardly abide but she bore it with a smile. No one asked after Harry; they did not seem to have expected him to attend.
“Your Grace, might I invite you to one of our picnics?” Lady Dilworth grinned. “We are hosting a house party, you see.”
“We would be happy to attend,” Bridget replied cordially, then Belinda looped her arm through hers.
“Oh, there is Gerard,” Belinda said, her cheeks coloring. Bridget now had cause to believe she fancied Mr. Belmont, and a smile touched her lips at the thought. He appeared to be a good man, and if he could bring Belinda some joy, then she was happy. She could even matchmake them, she thought slyly.
Mr. Belmont saw them and moved through the throng of guests to meet them. “I have been waiting all evening for you ladies,” he said after greeting them.
