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“I know, but you did not harm me.” She started to reach for his hand only to have him pull it away.
“Allow me to keep you safe, please,” he rasped, running his hand down his rough jaw.
“Harry, I want to help you,” she said.
He immediately shook his head. “You cannot help me. No one can help me.” There was a finality in that statement that rang loudly in her ears. It was as though he had already resolved that he would never be helped out of his misery.
Before she could say anything in response, he had moved past her and was walking out the door.
Bridget watched him leave, feeling even more powerless than before.
Chapter 23
“Dear child, did you sleep at all?” Belinda asked as she sat on the bed beside Bridget.
“Belinda, I saw his paintings,” she said quietly. Her head ached and her eyes stung from tears shed over the long night. Sarah had come in earlier and found her looking distraught.
Belinda’s eyes immediately misted and she cupped Bridget’s cheek. “Did he show it to you?”
“No. I went to the tower.”
“Oh, dear!” Belinda squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Why?”
“I was curious. I heard the maids mention the duke’s tower and I had to look.”
“And now you wish you had not looked.”
“No,” Bridget said quickly. “I do not regret it. I know why Harry is the way he is.” She swallowed and stared down at her thumb tracing the embroidered flower on her duvet. “I wish I could ease his pain.”
“Oh, you have been doing much already,” Belinda said, her voice thick with emotion. “Most of the servants had never seen him smile until you became the duchess. It might not look like much but our lives have gotten better since you came to us.”
Bridget felt her chin quiver. “Then I am glad I was able to do something.”
Belinda took her hand and squeezed it. “Now, let us get you dressed. Harry left early to another of his estates for business. He will not be joining us for breakfast this day.”
Bridget rather thought he did not want to see her after what had happened. “Where did he sleep?”
“I doubt he slept, my dear. Lander told me he rode out into the woods sometime around three in the morning.” That was the time he left her in his study. “When he returned, he dressed and departed Grayfield.”
“Did he say when he will return?”
“Afternoon, I believe. He never ventured for too long from Grayfield.”
Bridget nodded and got out of bed. Sarah rose from her seat by the window to help her dress.
Harry dismounted and gave his black Arabian stallion, Homer, a gentle pat on the muzzle, quietly thanking him for a good ride. Homer snorted contentedly and swished his tail. Then he started up the steps to the front door while a groom led the horse away.
“Welcome, Your Grace,” Lander greeted and Harry returned with a nod.
“Where is my wife?”
“She went to the stream with Cato, Your Grace.”
Harry glanced at the box in his hand, then at the stairs. “Help me change these dusty clothes, Lander,” he said, and the butler very subtly raised his brows.
“Of course, Your Grace.” He closed the door and followed him up the stairs. “Mr. Walker sent your evening clothes. Will you be wearing them to the soirée tonight?”
“Yes, Lander.” He smiled.
