Just a Marriage of Convenience with the Duke by Hazel Linwood
Chapter 13
Bridget sat in the chair beside her window and looked out, watching the people pass by on the street. The streetlamps had been lit, and their glow wound a path through the streets that usually made her feel safe, protected by their light. Now, though, they burned cold, preventing her from feeling anything except empty inside.
“Bridget? How are you feeling now?” Harriet asked softly before coming to kneel beside her sister’s chair.
“Like the whole world has been set ablaze and there is nothing I can do but watch it burn,” she replied slowly before turning her head to look at Harriet. “But thank you for caring enough to inquire after me.”
“Of course, I care,” Harriet said, resting her head on Bridget’s knee. “I am heartbroken for you. I don’t know how to make this better.”
“There’s nothing you can do short of praying for a miracle, and even then, I could never be so selfish as to waste it on something so silly as my marriage,” Bridget said, sounding resigned to the horror of her fate. “If we could request such marvelous wonders of the Deity, I should not abuse the privilege simply to avoid an unwelcomed marriage.”
“It is not selfish to not want these awful circumstances to befall you,” Harriet protested indignantly. “Though now I know that I am not seeking a love match anymore. I shall tell Father to select any suitable man and hurry about it.”
“No, Harriet. Why would you even think to do so?” Bridget demanded, sitting up and taking her sister’s hands.
“Because I’ve seen what happens when people love each other. Look at Father, a lost shell of a man without Mother even though we lost her five years ago. Five years, Bridget! Such a long time to grieve, to wander about as though you cannot remember the day of the week, to try and fail at different things because you cannot think clearly.
“And then you… you only met the duke a matter of days ago, and in that time, you lost your whole heart to him. You will never get it back, and you will never be the same. Worse, neither will he when he learns of this. I’ve decided I’m just not strong enough to endure all of that. Let me find a man who is pleasant enough to be near, and that is all I require.”
Though she would have thought herself cried out, fresh tears sprung to Bridget’s eyes. Only seventeen years old, and already Harriet had been turned into a bitter old woman whose heart had been hardened by pain.
“Harriet, it is not so bad as all that, you’ll see. I am only letting my self-pity replace my joy, and I should not do so. Do you think any of the children at the school would be so sad for me? To be marrying an earl, even one whom I do not care for? I think not. I should not be so selfish.”
“Why not?” Harriet cried out. “Why shouldn’t you be selfish when it is your life that is being torn to pieces? Must you always think of others, even when faced with such a horrible thing as this? Because I, for one, am not so good as you.”
Bridget smiled weakly. “Sometimes, our love for others is the only thing that will help us get through the bad times. Do you not think I wished to curl up in my bed and let death take me when Mother died? Of course, I did. But my love for her—and my love for you and Father—made me dry my tears and be strong. It’s what we have to do when there is nothing else we can do.”
“But Bridget… how will you ever tell the duke that you will not marry him?” Harriet asked, clearly distraught by her sister’s circumstances.
“I don’t know. I suppose Father could send word through a messenger. But I know that I cannot face him and tell him this awful thing, only to keep my word and not inform him as to why,” Bridget said, a quiet sob shaking her thin frame.
“Well, then I shall tell him!” Harriet said firmly. “It’s not right that he be left thinking you simply did not wish to marry him. I never gave Father my word, so I can be truthful.”
“Oh Harriet, you mustn’t! As much as it grieves me to say so, Father was right. If anyone knew the real cause, our good name would be ruined. You would never find a match, that’s for certain,” Bridget reminded her, shaking her head sadly. “No, it’s as Father said. There is no other way. I have accepted that, though my heart has been torn apart by the loss of Patrick and the way I will have betrayed him.”
There was a knock at the door, and Bridget called for them to enter. Miss Glenn entered, looking uncomfortable.
“My lady, there is a gentleman here named Lord Haskins. He says you are to attend a ball with him this evening?” the housekeeper inquired.
“What? That’s impossible. I’ve accepted no invitations with him,” Bridget replied, feeling both confused and angered.
“Nevertheless, he insists that you come down at once, prepared to attend,” Miss Glenn said, beginning to fret.
“But I cannot! The Duke of Lockhart does not even know about our contract yet, I certainly cannot appear publicly with another man,” Bridget protested, her heartache turning to anger.
“I would tell him for you, my lady, but I doubt he will listen to what I have to say. Perhaps it would be better if you told him so?”
“I most certainly shall,” Bridget stormed. “Please help me into my robe.”
Dressed, Bridget headed downstairs to the drawing room where Lord Haskins waited.
“My lord,” Bridget began curtly as she entered the room. Haskins turned to look at her, but her gaze was cold. “I have received word that you intend for us to attend a ball this evening. I have come down to tell you why that is unacceptable.”
“I care not for a discussion on the subject,” Lord Haskins answered coldly, waving her off. “Hurry and get dressed, we are going to be late as it is.”
“You do not seem to understand me,” Bridget replied, her hands clasped in front of her to keep them from trembling. “I will not be going. I was invited, but I did not reply that I would be attending with you. Moreover, when a man invites his betrothed to a public event where they will be seen together, it is customary to give the young lady in question more than five minutes’ notice.”
“I do not care for customs either,” the earl replied. “Now, if you are quite finished, I’ve been kept waiting long enough.”
“And finally,” Bridget added, ignoring his remark, “I have a contract signed with the Duke of Lockhart. Though such measures might be meaningless to you, I assure you, they are not meaningless to me. As I have been given no choice in the decision to marry you instead, I will not be seen with you publicly until the duke has been informed of the change in our plans. It is unseemly and people will talk about us.”
“I am wholly unconcerned with what anyone thinks of us,” Lord Haskins replied. “You are to be my wife now, and I have come to collect you. Now go and dress, or you will be attending this ball in your robe.”
Bridget stiffened, and for a moment her future flashed before her eyes. Was this truly to be her fate? Marriage to a man who was such a brute as to threaten to drag her from her own house, and before they were even wed? What would his demeanor be like once they were joined, and she had no choice but to obey?
I am not his wife yet!Bridget thought with a fierce determination. And I will not be ordered about one single day before I must!
“I have already given you more of my time than I intended to this evening, my lord. Mr. Blake will show you out,” she replied plainly, turning to leave the drawing room.
“Lady Bridget?” Lord Haskins called after her, and she briefly wondered if he had it in him to apologize for his boorish behavior.
“Yes?” she asked, looking back at him serenely.
“I meant what I said earlier. I am not to be trifled with,” Lord Haskins said, his voice like a cold blade. “If you fail to do as I say, I will destroy your father. And once your family is ruined beyond redemption, then I will marry that little sister of yours and see to it that you bear witness to the lifetime of misery that follows for her.”
Bridget froze, her angry retort held back only by her love for her father and sister. She stared down the earl for as long as she dared, then asked one simple question.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice far more confident than she felt.
“Because I can,” the earl replied. “Though if it is any consolation, you are not the person I care to wound. You are merely in the way.”
“Then what is your aim, so that I may know to thwart your effort?” Bridget asked icily.
“Never mind that. You must hurry and get ready for the ball,” Lord Haskins said, his voice filled with disdain. “I intend to wait no more than ten minutes.”
* * *
Patrick held onto the glass he’d carried most of the evening, its contents looking completely unappealing. All around him, gentlemen were throwing back the amber liquid as though fortifying themselves for another turn at the gambling tables. Both strong drink and losing his money in games of chance and cheat held no allure for him.
The single thing that did hold his interest, the most alluring thing in the world, had not arrived this evening. He’d felt certain Bridget had told him she would be here, but that turned out not to be the case. There was a part of his mind that wanted to rush from the house and go to her, just to ensure that she was all right. It was somewhat unnerving to realize just how much she had come to mean to him in such a short time.
But now, she was not here.
“Well, you look positively miserable,” Edward said, coming up beside Patrick and leaning against the wall. “I’d offer you a drink to lift your spirits, but you’ve been wasting that glass all evening.”
“And hello to you too,” Patrick said, trying not to sound bitter.
“My, someone is in poor spirits this evening. I would have thought you were on top of the world, what with this new lady you’ve managed to trap into marriage,” Edward joked before raising his glass in a toast to Patrick’s nuptials. “You never did tell me what has made you go from the insufferable rake the gossip sheets hinted at to this boyishly buoyant family man. This young lady must be a combination of Aphrodite and Venus in one to turn you from your wicked ways.”
“Oh, come on now. You know there was no truth to those accusations. As you said yourself, I wouldn’t put it past my mother to have begun those rumors herself,” Patrick reminded him, trying to keep a hardened edge of irritation out of his tone. “The strange thing is my mother was so intent on me marrying soon. Though once I chose a bride, she was equally intent on preventing the match. It’s as though marriage was never her aim.”
“Then what was her aim?” Edward asked, taking another long drink, and draining his glass.
“I have no idea, I assure you. To be a constant source of agony in my life, I suppose?” Patrick replied, growing tired of wondering where Lady Bridget could be. He simply wanted this evening to be over with so he could return home to the sanctuary of his own house.
“I think your worry and consternation have put you in a very specific mood… a foul one, at that,” Edward said, laughing good-naturedly at Patrick’s misery. “Are you certain this young lady intended to come?”
“That’s just it. I thought she had, as she even inquired about how to respond to the invitation now that we are appearing publicly together. I would have thought she’d be here by now as I was certain she said she would be in attendance.” Patrick still looked around, checking the time on a nearby mantel clock once more and wincing at the lateness of the hour.
“Perhaps she has only been delayed,” Edward said, trying to sound helpful. “Though it would not be untoward to inquire tomorrow, just to be certain that nothing is amiss.”
As though Edward’s words were some sort of dark portent, the crowd in the arched entryway to the room parted slightly at the arrival of a newcomer. That vile Lord Haskins entered the room, his usual smug look of disdain even more pronounced and visible from where Patrick stood.
Behind him, Bridget entered.
For a fleeting second, Patrick’s spirits were lifted at the sight of his beautiful and charming fiancée. She radiated a simple sort of loveliness that women paid handsomely for, if not made deals with the devil himself to achieve. Just seeing her walk in the room was enough to lift his mood from dark disappointment to utter happiness.
But the feeling was too brief. Within only moments, he was struck with a wave of nausea at the sight of Lord Haskins watching him closely. It took only seconds, though time—and all reason—seemed to come to a stop as they glared at one another. At last, Lord Haskins positively leered at Patrick before grasping Bridget’s hand tightly and placing it in the crook of his arm.
