Just a Marriage of Convenience with the Duke by Hazel Linwood

Chapter 14

“What the devil?” Patrick whispered under his breath, apparently loud enough that Edward turned to look.

“What is it?” his friend demanded, sounding concerned.

“Lady Bridget is here,” Patrick said, his words coming automatically, devoid of emotion.

“Where is she? I cannot see her, I only see—”

Edward stopped, having followed Patrick’s gaze until his sight came to rest on a rather lovely young lady standing unseemly close to an older man. For his part, Patrick’s confusion soon gave way to a rage so intense that he thought he might forget himself.

“Patrick, don’t do it,” Edward cautioned, his voice nearly a growl of warning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patrick replied, his voice shaking with his anger.

“Yes, you do. You cannot call him out here, not without embarrassing both yourself and this Lady Bridget.”

“I’ll kill him,” Patrick swore under his breath, setting down the glass he’d been holding lest he crush it with his bare hand. “We shall duel. I will call him out and he will be dead at dawn.”

“You’ll do no such thing, I’ve seen you shoot,” Edward answered gravely. “Besides, there’s no point in putting your own neck in the noose when there’s already a queue of people in this city who wish to take on the wonderful task of killing Haskins themselves.”

“I’m not making sport, old friend. I will need a second to accompany me to the dueling grounds. Tell me you’ll do it, or else find me someone who will.”

“Patrick, listen to yourself. You do not even know the cause of this, and you’ve already committed yourself to digging Haskins’ grave,” Edward argued. “I urge you to show some restraint and first determine what in the devil is happening.”

“I can clearly see what is happening,” Patrick shot back. “Lord Haskins has hauled his stench-ridden bones to Repington’s house and absconded with Lady Bridget, all in an attempt to ruin her reputation. I won’t stand for it.”

“You’re certain of that? Certain enough to attempt to kill a man, thus breaking the law yourself?”

“You cannot expect me to stand here like a fool, not even knowing what that cad is up to,” Patrick said, seething.

He did not take his eyes of Haskins, though his foe had already moved on to greeting people around him. The only thing that finally tore his gaze away was the pain he saw on Bridget’s face.

Though still as beautiful as ever, her features transformed into a mask of shame as she looked down at her feet, avoiding Patrick’s gaze. All around her, people spoke and laughed and moved about, which only served to make her solitary isolation more noticeable. Patrick wanted nothing more than to rescue her, to sweep in and steal her away from whatever torment had been inflicted on her.

But he could not.

Lord Haskins chose that very moment to turn his attention back to Lady Bridget. He leaned closer, close enough that Patrick’s hands balled into fists of their own accord and whispered in her ear. Suddenly, her fearful look of extreme displeasure dissolved into a façade of stoic happiness. Though Patrick knew well what her real expression of joy looked like, anyone nearby would most likely be fooled by this copy.

“I must urge caution, old friend,” Edward said in Patrick’s ear, snapping him back to the present.

“I don’t know the meaning of the word,” he spat back, a red haze filling his mind as he watched helplessly. He squared his shoulders and straightened the ends of his coat. “I think I shall go and speak to them.”

“Don’t do it,” Edward argued, pulling Patrick back by the arm. “No good can come from this, especially when you do not even know what is happening.”

Patrick paused, braced to lunge forward and rescue Lady Bridget from whatever stronghold this scoundrel had over her. Instead, he let Edward lead him away, reluctant to even turn his back on Bridget lest something befall her.

“What can this mean?” Patrick demanded when they were a safe distance away. “Why would she arrive with someone else? Why would she ignore me when she clearly saw me?”

“I do not know, but there is bound to be some sort of explanation,” Edward said patiently, still looking around as though hoping no one had noticed Patrick’s fury.

Before either of them could speak again, Bridget moved past them, led away by Lord Haskins as he pulled her towards the dance floor. Patrick thought perhaps he had imagined it, but for a moment he thought he felt the brush of her gloved fingers against his hand, reaching for him as though he might prove to be a lifeline.

The music began, and Lord Haskins looked around at the other guests, a triumphant look on his face that said he was clearly enjoying their confusion. Poor Bridget looked even more embarrassed than before, the blush of her cheeks standing out against the deathly pale hue of her skin. Haskins whispered to her once again and Bridget inched closer to him, though she turned her face away with a look of disgust.

At the first swell of the notes that signaled the dancers were to take their first step, Haskins reached his arm around behind Bridget and pulled her to him, his chest colliding with her in the most unseemly way. Bridget flinched, her humiliation at having been groped so openly burning through her.

“That’s enough,” Patrick growled before moving to separate them, but again, Edward pulled him back.

“Lockhart, no. You will only call attention to her, and for that she will not thank you. For now, there may still be a few here who have taken no notice of what is going on.”

“I must know, what is the meaning of this!” Patrick hissed, still watching them over Edward’s shoulder. “Lady Bridget and I are to be married; we have a contract. Clearly this man is forcing her to go back on it for some reason, but I won’t stand for it. It is not only her good name that is now being sullied, but mine as well!”

Just then, Lord Haskins and Lady Bridget came closer, edging past Patrick and Edward as they danced. Patrick glowered furiously, noting the look of victory on Haskins’ rat-like face. It took all his strength not to punch the earl right at that moment, but Patrick managed.

“Have you considered the terrible possibility that it is not Lord Haskins who is interfering with your contract… but Lady Bridget?” Edward asked hesitantly.

Patrick turned his rage on the marquess, prepared to strike him at any time. It was only his friend’s apologetic look that stopped him.

“It cannot be,” Patrick finally muttered through clenched teeth. “I will not even consider it.”

“I’m afraid you must consider it,” Edward said, nodding his head towards the earl and his captive beauty.

Patrick turned and forced himself to look once more, this time heeding his friend’s advice. No, it couldn’t be true. Lady Bridget looked mortified at having so many people watching her, not the least of whom was him.

But she also did nothing to request Patrick’s help, to thwart Lord Haskins’ advances. Had she proven so fickle as to take up another man’s offer of marriage only days after agreeing to marry him? As much as he wished not to believe it, Patrick had to admit that he could not be certain.

The music stopped and Patrick briefly thought to intervene. He watched his mark move from the dance floor, taking Lady Bridget by the elbow and leading her away. Did she seem reluctant? Patrick honestly could not tell. Perhaps her embarrassment was only at having to face Patrick after she’d gone back on their agreement?

“I believe I’m finished for the evening,” Patrick said, turning to find Edward still standing guard over him, as though he expected him to launch some sort of attack.

“You cannot leave now,” Edward protested, gesturing with his glass to where Lord Haskins was speaking to someone. “Otherwise, he wins. You know as well as I do that he brought Lady Bridget here to parade her about in front of you like some sort of trophy that he’s won.”

“Apparently, he has won it. And I have no wish to continue to watch him polishing it,” Patrick said, casting one last glance at the couple.

“Are you not even going to demand an explanation?”

“I should think not,” Patrick answered, his earlier tempest of emotions finally settling into a quiet storm of haughty derision. “The prize is now his, as he has made it abundantly clear. The only way he wins is if I am somehow bothered by it.”

“But you are bothered,” Edward reminded him kindly, keeping his voice low.

“That is of no consequence now. I shall put that behind me and look forward to seeing what the gossip sheets have to say about the matter,” Patrick said before bowing curtly. “And so, I bid you goodnight.”

* * *

Bridget struggled to catch a final glimpse of Patrick’s expression without Lord Haskins taking notice of her, but it was to no avail. The last she saw of him was the back of his tall figure practically sprinting for the door.

He had not even spoken to her.

But what else could she have hoped for? That he would come over and demand an explanation? That he would call out Lord Haskins as a villain and rescue her from her miserable fate?

Impossible.

There would be no rescue, of that she was well aware. Bridget was helpless to prevent the horrible truth, that she would be married to the earl in a short time, even though she loathed him completely… even though she had come to realize how much she loved Patrick.

But it was evident that he did not return those feelings, at least not after watching Lord Haskins’ untoward display.

“This way… my dear,” Lord Haskins hissed in her ear, causing Bridget to flinch and pull away.

The earl grasped her hand tightly, almost painfully tight, and led her throughout the room. He introduced her to numerous people, all of whom glanced to her with confused expressions while Bridget remained silent, refusing to meet their perplexed gaze.

“It would do you well to smile at these people,” Lord Haskins warned her. “You are, after all, my overjoyed and grateful bride-to-be.”

“It would do you well to remember that I am neither of those things. Though I have no choice but to marry you, I am neither happy nor thankful,” she answered coldly. “And I assure you that if you have any mistaken notions of someday achieving marital bliss, I would put those aside now. I will despise you for the rest of my life.”

“Tsk, tsk. Remember, I don’t take kindly to that sort of demeanor. Either look pleasant, or I will be forced to do unkind things where your father is concerned,” the earl said menacingly as he sauntered about the room, practically dragging Bridget behind him.

She stopped short, causing Lord Haskins to come to a halt and turn about. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Introducing my future wife to her betters?” he asked innocently.

“Why did you insist upon marrying me?” Bridget clarified, tears of anger threatening to fall. She blinked, instinctively knowing that the earl might take a sick sort of pride in witnessing just how much he’d upset her.

“Because I demand the best,” he replied, though there was nothing affectionate or complimentary in his tone. “Now dry those ridiculous tears lest someone think you are less than thrilled with the match.”

Despite how it turned her stomach to be ordered about, Bridget complied. She permitted the earl to drag her about some more, at least until she saw something that lifted her spirits tremendously.

Agatha. She was standing with Camille, both of them staring at her darkly.

Bridget met their eye and shrugged helplessly, cocking her head slightly toward the earl. She gave them a pleading look, mouthing the word “help” silently and praying that they understood her meaning.

They did.

Agatha swept through the ballroom with Camille giving chase, ignoring the looks from guests whose conversations had been interrupted by her surge of effort. She came to stand beside Bridget and planted her feet, opening her mouth to no doubt say something unexpected until Bridget shook her head slightly.

Agatha stopped. Her expression softened as she took in the sight of Bridget’s fearful stance and defeated countenance. It took her only moments to interrupt Lord Haskins.

“My lord, I am ever so sorry to interrupt your conversation with Lord and Lady Dalworth,” Agatha began, her tone almost simpering as she smiled brightly. Lord Haskins turned to look at her as though she were a rat racing through the gutter, then quickly remembered himself and bowed slightly. “But might I have Lady Bridget to accompany me for a moment? I fear she is the only friend I have here tonight, and I simply cannot step outside to the terrace unaccompanied.”

Bridget fought the urge to smirk after taking one look at Haskins’ face. His expression was sour, one of a man who knows he cannot refuse for propriety’s sake. He nodded curtly and turned his attention back to the Dalworths, pausing only long enough to whisper in Bridget’s ear.

“Do not take too long. I shall be very displeased if I must come to find you.”

Bridget curtseyed silently to the Dalworths and hurried after Agatha as quickly as decorum would allow. The relief she felt at being away from Haskins made her feel almost lightheaded. They did not stop until they were on the terrace, the cool night air causing Bridget to shiver uncontrollably. Or was it her emotions getting the better of her?

“Bridget? What in the devil is going on?” Agatha asked, her voice nearly a whisper as she looked over Bridget’s shoulder to ensure they were not within anyone’s ear shot.

“It is too horrible for mere words,” Bridget replied mournfully, prompting Agatha to smooth back Bridget’s hair comfortingly and Camille to take her hand.

“Tell me you are not here with that horrid man,” Agatha continued, “the one who became so inebriated at my parents’ ball that Father had him thrown out.”

“I am,” Bridget confessed, the tears she’d been holding back finally pouring forth, dotting the front of her gown. “I don’t even know what’s happened, but somehow, Lord Haskins has threatened Father. He forced Father to tear up my contract with the Duke of Lockhart and agree that I should marry Haskins instead.”

Both friends gasped in horror, and Bridget closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself.

“It is worse. Apparently, Haskins has threatened us with ruin if I do not agree. He now holds all of Father’s debts and is using them against us.”

Camille began to weep quietly, though Agatha looked as though someone had loosed a storm inside her heart. She clenched her fists and spoke through gritted teeth.

“This will not stand. Heed my words, Bridget. I will make sure this is undone,” she hissed, her eyes enflamed.

“I’ve done nothing else for the past day but try to think how that is possible,” Bridget replied, shaking her head. She remembered to look back behind her before adding, “If I do not marry him, he will demand Harriet’s hand. He has told me so himself.”

“Not dear Harriet!” Agatha whispered, pressing her hand to her mouth in surprise.

“But all of this agony is nothing compared to what I’ve done to the duke. He was here, Agatha! He saw me with the earl and now must think the worst of me,” Bridget cried, her head falling to Camille’s shoulder.

“Then that must be our first order of business,” Agatha said firmly, standing taller now that a plan was taking hold. “I shall make sure to communicate with the duke this very evening and explain to him what has happened. Surely he will have some recourse.”

“We cannot! Father has forbidden me to tell him about the particulars for fear that his reputation will be ruined.”

“And he would rather that yours be destroyed instead?” Camille asked, whimpering for her friend’s plight. “Surely you must know that every tongue in that house there is flapping like sails in a gale over seeing you with the earl. How else did you think we knew to come to your aid?”

“I no longer care about any of that,” Bridget explained, dabbing at her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time and sniffing back more tears. “My life is over. All that matters now is helping Father restore his fortune and keeping Harriet in good standing with the ton so that she might make a good match.”

“Your sister will be just fine,” Agatha said with a slight sneer. “But sacrificing yourself to a life of misery—especially when you had love within your grasp—is unthinkable.”

“But that’s how it must be,” Bridget said. “In time, I can only hope the duke comes to realize that I am not the betrayer he must think me to be.”

“There’s that scoundrel now,” Camille whispered, leaning her head towards the terrace door.

The three ladies stared from the dim glow of the sconces that lined the darkened terrace at Lord Haskins’ silhouette framed in the doorway, the lights within shining from behind him. With one last sad look at her friends, Bridget released their hands and went to him.