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“No, Graham. It is not your fault. It might still have happened, one way or the other,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “We cannot change what has come to pass. We can only try to carry…” Her words drifted off as she let out another moan. Then, the door opened again, and Esther entered.
“My lady,” she exclaimed and was at the dowager’s side right away.
“Please, bring my mother to her chamber, she needs her rest. And do not leave her, I beg of you,” Graham implored the maid, who nodded. “I shall explain all later,” he added.
Esther, always obedient and loyal, nodded and helped his mother up. Fanny stood and leaned on her maid’s arm as they slowly made their way across the room. Esther shut the door behind them. Bridget stared into the fire, her shoulders dropping with exhaustion after reliving the terrible events. She was distracted from her reverie only when Graham kneeled before her and took her hands in his.
“Bridget,” he said quietly.
She looked into his eyes, the light in hers growing stronger by the second. “Yes, Graham?”
“I do not want you to struggle,” he murmured.
She gave him a pained smile, obviously trying to stay strong. “I deserve nothing less,” she said. “I watched as my best friend was brutally murdered. I have done a horrible disservice to your family in failing to protect her.”
“No, Bridget,” he said. He reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, then ran his thumb along her cheek. “You are brave, and you deserve all the happiness in the world.”
She leaned into his touch, though it looked as if it might break her. “Please, Graham,” she said. “You don’t have to—”
“I would like to give you that happiness, if you’ll have me,” he breathed.
He was surprised at how his heart fluttered with those words, how his hands threatened to shake. He was not a man of weak nerves, and yet it was one of the most terrifying things he had ever done in his life.
Bridget remained speechless, but her mouth fell open as she watched him.
So, he kept talking.
“We have been through too much,” he said, “and still, you have been a stalwart ally in the face of all this evil. You have been my single joy in all this sorrow, and I wish to return that favor to you. Not only because I feel I owe you a debt, but because I love you, Bridget.”
She took a shaking breath, her hands clutching at his. She brought them to her lips and pressed a swift kiss to them, then closed her eyes and bit her lip, as if she would collapse into tears once again.
When she opened her eyes, though, they blazed with inner fire, bright as the finest emeralds.
“I have always loved you, Graham Barnet,” she whispered. “And I would be honored to be your wife.”
Graham moved to take her into his arms as she fell into his embrace, and he squeezed so tightly, he heard the breath puff from her lungs in a joyful laugh. There was still so much pain, so much death, grief, and sorrow to bear. But together, they would bring Oliver Bragg to justice, and then they could start their life together.
Yet the storm was still raging outside, and they had one more night to weather before they could bring the sordid chapter to a close.
Thus, Graham held his betrothed by the fire, and listened as the rain rattled hard against the windowpanes.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
Bridget longed to spend the whole evening awake, talking with her new fiancé, but she knew, at some point, they had to sleep. She’d had too many sleepless nights of late, and she was exhausted after the day’s events.
They had been numerous, indeed.
Over the past twelve hours, Bridget had thought she would end her own life, had her first kiss, then confessed everything—and now, she was engaged to him. Her head spun when she considered her new reality, and how Graham had promised to protect her.
The past week had seemed like a nightmare but it was swiftly turning into a wonderful dream.
Not only did she love Graham, but marrying the duke would protect her mother from financial ruin, making them no longer reliant on her irresponsible father. Lady Sedgwick would be thrilled at the match, and Bridget was fully confident that Graham intended to follow through with his promises.
But they had one last, looming problem to worry about; Oliver Bragg.
She tried not to think of him as she climbed the stairs to theguest room, where she had frequently stayed when Mary was still alive. The only sound in Foxglove Hall was the rain outside. Graham intended to stay up through the night and set off for the constabulary as soon as the rain relented, but itshowed no sign of abating.
They had not yet told the dowager of their plans to marry, but Bridget had a feeling Graham and his mother had already discussed it. She smiled to herself as she went along the familiar hallway, conscious of her still damp clothes irritating her skin as they dried. She longed to change into a clean, soft nightgown—not only because the clothes were uncomfortable, but because she was still wearing the mourning dress in which she had thought she would die.
