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“Lord Mortimer,” he said, standing, “Allow me to apologize.” The man’s features immediately softened, and Harry knew he had disarmed him. “It was wrong of me to leave in the manner I did, but I assure you that it was not without reason.”
“And what reason might that be?” Mortimer asked.
Harry motioned for him to take a seat. “May I offer you some fine brandy?” He went to a cabinet and picked up a decanter, pouring the contents into a tumbler when Mortimer nodded. “Thank you for aiding me by proposing an alliance when I was most in need of it.”
His father-in-law nodded, sipping his brandy. “Promise me that you will be kind to my daughter.”
“I promise,” Harry said, certain her brother would put a bullet in him if he mistreated her.
Mortimer finished his drink and stood. “We leave for town today.”
Harry gained his feet, too. “I thought you would stay longer.”
“I have business to attend to in London,” he replied, and Harry nodded.
A moment after Mortimer had left the study, Belinda walked in. He immediately held up a hand because he knew what she was about to say. The woman did not heed his gesture.
“Did you see how dispirited you made her?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“I apologized to her father,” he said slowly, “and I will ensure I demonstrate my contrition to her.”
“That young woman will be by herself in this place when her family departs in an hour. We must treat her well.”
“I understand,” he said, hoping she would leave him alone.
“Good, and I hope to see you at dinner. What occurred yesterday must not repeat itself.”
“Yes.” His reply was terse, and he returned to his desk.
“If he mistreats you, write to me, and I will come and rescue you,” Andrew said, drawing Bridget into his arms. They were outside the castle, by the carriage, and her family was about to depart.
“I shall be well and happy here, Andrew,” she assured him, determined to find happiness in her new life. She might not have love, but she will seek contentment, and that will lead to happiness. When she pulled away, her father drew her close. “Thank you, Papa. For everything you do for our family.”
“You are dearer to me than anything, Bridget. Farewell, my dear.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. “I hope to see you soon.”
“You shall.” He pulled away and looked over her shoulder. Following his gaze, she found the duke at the door, shadowed by the frame. He gave her father a nod, which was returned in kind before her father turned to climb into the carriage.
Bridget knew they had spoken, and her father had told her that the duke had promised to apologize for his behavior. What she wanted was not an apology, but a reason, and better action in the future.
Drawing her eyes back to the carriage, she watched it drive away, and even when it had disappeared, she stared for a moment at the trail it had left. A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned.
“Come, my dear.” It was Belinda. “The duke wishes to introduce you to the household.”
Bridget followed her inside, feeling anxious, for she was now mistress of Grayfield, and hoped the servants would like her.
Her husband was in the front hall, and with him were at least a dozen people. She must have spent more time outside than she thought. He came to her side, and clearing his throat, began the introductions.
“Mr. Lander is the butler, and Mrs. Piper the housekeeper.” Mrs. Piper smiled and curtsied, and while Lander bowed, he did not show any emotion. Then the duke waved a hand in the direction of the footmen and a few maids. “The footmen and maids. You will learn their names…in due course.”
Bridget had the thought, then, that he did not know their names. If she were not feeling quite overwhelmed, she would have giggled.
“The cook is Monsieur Paquin, and he is occupied in the kitchens at the moment,” the duke continued without looking at her.
“You keep a French cook?” She asked to confirm he was truly French, for she had heard of instances where cooks and maids pretended to be French to gain favor at the time of employment.
“Yes.” His response was terse, and his voice was low. It was difficult to guess his thoughts and emotions.
