A Porcelain Viscountess by Hazel Linwood

Chapter 3

“Lady Bridget,” the older man said, an odd sort of look in his eye.

It took her only a moment for Bridget to realize he had been drinking for quite some time, and most certainly something stronger than sherry. She had seen it far too many times in the faces of the students’ parents, that same bleary-eyed stare in which their gaze kept wandering, trying to find something to focus on.

“Yes? Have we met?” Bridget asked a little too loudly, hoping to garner Agatha’s attention.

“Oh, Lady Bridget, how clumsy of me,” Agatha replied, turning from where she’d been speaking to her parents. “Lord Haskins, may I introduce Lady Bridget Stewart, daughter of the Earl of Repington? Lady Bridget, this is Victor Skinner, the Earl of Haskins.”

“Pleased to meet you, my lord,” Bridget said, curtseying politely.

“I see you are not dancing,” Lord Skinner replied. “We must fix that at once.”

Bridget looked to Agatha and Harriet, unsure of what to make of such an unusual invitation to dance. But her father’s words rang in her ear—she simply had to marry by the end of this Season. And this very man had made mention of seeking a wife, a man of business, according to her father. Gritting her teeth but smiling politely, she nodded briefly.

“Certainly, my lord. I should like nothing better,” she answered, placing her hand on his outstretched arm.

The first notes of the next tune began and around her, couples were already standing in their places. Bridget stood before this man and tried to avoid the intensity of his stare.

“Why have I never seen you at an event before?” he asked gruffly as they began to move about the floor.

“I… that is to say, I don’t know. I’ve been to a number of events lately, most recently the concert at Lady Falson’s and the opera with Lady Melville,” Bridget explained, trying to sound polite and attentive.

“I would surely have noticed someone as beautiful and beguiling as you wandering about the halls,” Lord Haskins said. “I would have made every effort to follow after you and speak to you.”

“Oh. You flatter me,” Bridget replied, not sure how to respond to such a statement.

“It is no flattery. I know when I see the most prized specimen in the room,” he argued, stumbling momentarily but keeping his feet about him.

“Specimen?” Bridget asked, cringing slightly as her anger threatened to get the better of her. “I assure you, I am no specimen, at least not one to be compared to all of the ladies in attendance. They are far more prized than I, I assure you.”

“Nonsense. I know what I like, and I have not seen it until now,” the earl said, pulling Bridget slightly closer to him until she felt the need to lean backwards in order to avoid being so close to him.

Mercifully, the song ended in due course. Bridget curtseyed again and looked over the earl’s shoulder for Harriet or Agatha.

“Thank you for the dance, my lord. I must find my sister now,” Bridget began, but Lord Haskins caught her hand and pulled her back.

“Now, now, you mustn’t run off, not when I’ve only just gotten to know you,” he said, but he was prevented from saying anything else by another man’s intrusion.

“Why, Lady Bridget, I had no idea you would be here this evening,” the newcomer said, causing Bridget’s nerves to alight once more. “Please tell me I’m not too late, and that I might have the next dance.”

Bridget looked between the drunken earl and this strange man who seemed to know her, feeling oddly discomforted. Still, sobriety was a characteristic she was particularly attached to, so the choice was simple.

“Certainly, you may. If you will excuse us, Lord Haskins,” Bridget said, putting her hand atop the stranger’s gently closed fist and allowing him to lead her away.

They stood apart, facing one another as the next tune began to play. Bridget looked up at the tall man, his dark curls almost falling over his forehead enough to cast a shadow that reached his intensely green eyes. She frowned slightly, trying to discern how they knew one another, but she was unsuccessful.

“Don’t trouble yourself with trying to recall my name, we have never met. I hope you’ll forgive me for being overly familiar,” the man said as they began to dance. “I asked your friend for your name when I saw how uncomfortable you seemed.”

Bridget smiled with relief. “That was very clever of you. Here I thought I was a terrible person for not remembering you.”

The man laughed. “We have not yet been introduced, and it pains me that my rather forward display was how we were to meet. But I am familiar with Lord Haskins and his fondness for drink. I could not leave you to your own defenses.”

“You are a true hero, rest assured,” Bridget replied, relief flooding through her. “But I am at a loss as you know my name, though I still have not learned yours.”

“Patrick,” the man said simply.

“Patrick? That’s all?” Bridget teased, smiling at how unassuming this man seemed to be.

“Oh, my apologies. I’m sure I’m supposed to inform you that I am Patrick Arnold, eleventh Duke of Lockhart, or some such thing,” he answered, smiling politely though he rolled his eyes at the formality.

“Well, Your Grace, you certainly saved me and for that, I am very grateful to you,” Bridget replied sincerely. “Though I have heard of you, my father has spoken of you before. You are both members at White’s, I believe.”

“Ah, I remember now. So, while inquiring about your name, I learned that you are here as a special guest of the hosts. Is that so?” the duke pressed, as though hurrying to speak while they had the brief chance.

“Yes. You see, I run an academy for children of poor laborers. This ball is an invitation to anyone in the ton who wishes to lend their support to our cause. We have need of a great many things, but most of all, funds to maintain our school.” Bridget stopped herself before she could confess that the very existence of the school was now in peril.

“I see. That is not a common endeavor you’ve undertaken,” Patrick replied.

“No, sadly, it is not. If it were more common, there would be so much less need,” Bridget explained, aware that she was sounding defensive of her school. “But we are so much more than simply a school. We strive to provide food and clothing as well as a rudimentary education. It is… not an inexpensive undertaking.”

“Surely the fine people in attendance this evening will see the merit in such a cause and help you,” Patrick replied. “I, for one, will be glad to make a modest donation.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. That will be most welcome. And if you feel so inclined, it would be a great help to the school if you could speak to any of your peers about also supporting us. But only if you feel comfortable doing so, that is,” Bridget added quickly.

“I don’t know that I have so many acquaintances here, but I will do all I can to talk it up. How about that?” he asked, smiling slightly.

Before Bridget could answer, the musicians stopped. The dancing ceased, and the duke looked down at her.

“Thank you for the lovely dance, Lady Bridget,” he said. “I wish you the very best for your school, and I know that you will continue to do a marvelous job with it.”

Bridget looked up at his eager face, and her heart was filled with the sort of turmoil that comes from trying to be strong for too long. He had been so kind as to rescue her from a loathsome dancing partner, and then even spoke so kindly about the school. It was overwhelming to have the chance to speak to someone who seemed to be such a caring person.

The truth spilled out before Bridget could stop herself.

“I’m afraid that unless our campaign is successful, the school will be closing,” she confessed, a single tear spilling down her cheek. “I have learned only this evening that it must close if we do not achieve our aim. Forgive me,” she blurted out, then hurried out of the ballroom.

* * *

Bridget made it outside to the solitude of the terrace before the full shame of humiliation struck. What had she been thinking? She had just revealed her sad plight to a complete stranger, one who had just spoken such wonderful things about the school!

“How stupid can I be?” Bridget muttered, looking up at the stars overhead and attempting to hold back the tears that continued to fall. “I just ruined any chance the children had of keeping their school!”

Bridget rested her cheek against the cool marble of the balustrade for a moment, letting the soothing stone calm her. She would have to go back inside and continue speaking to the guests about the merits of the school and the good work that they were doing, all while trying to politely ignore the comments from those who thought poor children should simply be put to work somewhere.

“Lady Bridget? Are you all right?” a now-familiar voice asked from behind her.

Bridget whirled around in surprise to find the duke standing nearby. She dabbed at her eyes and smoothed the front of her gown before self-consciously reaching up to pat her hair, ensuring it was not a mess from her sprint earlier.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry, I just became so overwhelmed with emotion at finally telling another soul the awful news,” Bridget explained, her embarrassment mercifully concealed by the darkness outdoors.

“There is no need to apologize, I assure you. I would react the same way if I had received such terrible news, especially about something I was so clearly passionate about as a school for needy children,” Patrick said softly, his voice filled with understanding.

It made Bridget want to cry all over again.

“You are very kind to inquire after me, but I promise, I am all right. I only need a moment to stop feeling so helpless,” Bridget said. “Who am I to cry and complain while standing on Lord Kerrington’s terrace, wearing a gown that cost more than the children’s families could ever hope to afford?”

“That is an uncommon sentiment among this crowd, I fear,” Patrick said, laughing though he sounded sympathetic.

“I cannot help but imagine their little faces as they slink off to their beds, their bellies empty once again but for the meager food we can give them each day,” Bridget continued. “And to know that even that small bit is now threatened with being taken away, it is too painful to grasp.”

“What will you do without securing the funds?” Patrick asked, sounding concerned.

“The school building itself will be up for sale, and the children will have to remain at home. Instead of learning and finding encouragement and nourishment, they will likely be put to work to keep them from being idle.”

“Is there no other school for them?” the duke asked, genuinely unaware of how these sorts of matters came about.

Bridget shook her head. “No. As I explained before, this school is far too unique in our society.” She paused and looked away. “While I am baring the troubles of my heart, I might as well say this—my family has supported this school for all the years that it has existed, with very little help from others. But my father… he has fallen on unfortunate financial hardships, and that is the reason the school is to close. We simply cannot afford to continue to fund it.”

“That is terrible,” Patrick said, standing closer and lowering his voice at discussing such a personal topic. “But surely once your father’s finances are secure once again, the school can open.”

“I’m afraid it is not so simple as that. He must sell the school, you see. His situation is quite serious, and my sister and I must do all we can to ease his burden.”

“You don’t mean…” Patrick asked, though he stopped as though he knew the topic was not meant for two strangers to discuss. Finally, he said, “You mean you must marry, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid so,” Bridget replied, trying to sound confident. “It is through no fault of my father’s, and therefore it is my duty as his daughter to do all I can. I’m sure he will find a suitable match before the Season is over, and then he will not have to worry about caring for either of his daughters.”

Patrick was silent, and for a few moments, Bridget thought she might have spoken too plainly, said too much. These topics were not meant to be discussed so casually among strangers, nor even among friends, for that matter. But it felt good to let someone else shoulder that burden with her, even if it was someone she’d only just met and would likely not see again.

“Then marry me,” Patrick said, turning to face Bridget.

Her eyes went wide. “I beg your pardon? What did you say?”

“Please hear me,” he explained cautiously. “I must marry. Apparently, my mother and grandmother will both die of something horrendous if I fail to do so… or at least that is how they have been acting. And I have been having a terrible time of simply trying to enjoy my days as a solitary person. You need to marry and maintain your school, and I need a wife to avoid the appearance of being a monstrous rake, or something like that. This is ideal for both of us.”

“You cannot be serious,” Bridget said, confirming that she’d heard him correctly. “Dukes do not simply meet a young lady at a ball and offer marriage right that very moment.”

“Why not?” he asked with a shrug. “It’s not as if either of us has been seeking a love match, correct? Then what is the harm in a business arrangement that will benefit both of us? Of course, we can still enjoy a brief yet respectable courtship so that everyone knows it is a most sincere arrangement.”

“I… I don’t know. But I’m certain there is more to it than that,” Bridget said, protectively crossing her arms in front of herself.

“The way I see it, it’s all rather simple,” Patrick said plainly. “The ton is filled with men like Lord Haskins. Would you prefer to continue attending events in hopes of meeting a man who is slightly less repulsive?”

“Absolutely not. You have certainly discovered my Achille’s heel,” Bridget acknowledged.

“Then a marriage arrangement built on mutual benefit—both financial and to our reputations—is the better choice, is it not?” he asked patiently, as though waiting for Bridget to embrace the notion.

“But am I even permitted to accept such an invitation? I truly do not know these things, my mother has not been here to guide me through these matters,” Bridget admitted. “I think you are supposed to speak to my father about this, rather than me.”

“Oh. I think you’re right,” Patrick said, his eyes going wide as he looked around nervously. Yet still, he smiled. “I’ll be right back then.”

“Wait, I don’t mean like that!” Bridget said, laughing as she caught his arm and pulled him back. “I feel as though I should ask about you, about your reputation. What if you are some rake who is intent on ruining my good name?”

The duke stiffened at her remark, and Bridget feared she had either offended him greatly… or worse, that she had hit too close to the mark.

“I assure you, despite what others may think they know, I am an honorable and honest man,” he answered, sounding slightly wounded.

Bridget softened, her heart going out to him. “I think it’s permitted for me to accept, but only on the condition that you come to call tomorrow and speak to my father. Does that sound right?”

“It does to me,” Patrick answered. “You know, for the first time in a matter of weeks, I feel as though I might float off the ground, so unbothered am I.”

“I think I feel the same way,” Bridget said, laughing softly. “It’s as though you saved me not only from a boorish dance partner, but also… you’ve saved my entire life.”

“And I hope that I live up to such a lofty view you have of me, Lady Bridget,” Patrick answered, bowing to her. “Now, I’m certain we should go back inside before anyone sees us out here alone. And as I have asked you to be my wife, I do believe we are permitted one more dance this evening. Shall we go?”

“That would be lovely, Your Grace,” Bridget said, accepting his arm and walking with the duke back into the house.

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