In Compromise with the Earl by Ava MacAdams
Chapter Two
“What do you have to say for yourself?” The Earl’s voice was like ice as he focused on the women in front of him now.
Bridgette flinched as the parlor door slammed open. She had flinched. The very idea seemed impossible to her that one unsavory interaction could leave her so shaken. How long would it last, she wondered?
It had not always been that way. Papa could get his temper up high with or without proper motivation but it would always be undone by something silly. If his shirts were starched and pressed too crisply? He would then commit to standing them all up in a line down the hallway. Papa would speak to them like they were friends of his, or that he was having a grand conspiracy with the shirts until the servants came and whisked them all away for repairs.
Her father had always made light of himself in times where his temper had gotten the better of him. Bridgette had foolishly assumed that all men must be that way. That they must all have a grand sense of humor and the ability to see the lighter side of situations. She did not often consider what life would be like as a married woman but when she did, she imagined it would be to somebody who could make her laugh, even when she did not wish to.
It had not taken more than one Season of eligibility before she had learned how far that was from the truth. Naively, she had assumed that her father would find her a good man. Perhaps not the man that she might choose on her own, but he would know the sort of man that she needed. He would know the sort that would be compatible with her heart and whatever match was made on her behalf would be a good and solid match. Somebody who could challenge her mind. Somebody who would provide friendship and safety. Then her father had died.
The match made on Bridgette’s behalf by her Uncle the following Season had been one of convenience. One that was thrown together quickly and of decent enough standing. One that would tolerate the meager dowry, a lower sum offered than in the years prior. Instead of having vetted meetings in the companionship of her mother and sisters, she was thrust into the parlor with a man who might be handsome, but had something hollow about his eyes. Bridgette supposed it all made sense now.
“Well? Answer me!” the Earl of Evans demanded once more. The small vein in his forehead seemed to grow by the second.
“My Lord.” Mama seemed to snap to her wits at his second command for information and moved to the side to reveal Bridgette’s visage. What a state she was in. “Bridgette just needs a moment to compose herself. It has been quite an evening.”
The Earl showed no signs of sympathy toward Bridgette’s state of distress. He offered no words of comfort, nor did he make any effort to ensure her wellbeing. He simply looked her over, decided for himself that her suffering must not be that great if she was upright and in decent countenance, and therefore she had no excuse for any slight against him.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you have caused me?” For a man who presented himself so well in public, he was different behind closed doors.
“Do you care to explain to me, why it is that I’ve received word that Lord Lork was seen leaving Dunleavy Hall in a state of upset?” The Earl paced into the room, tossing his hat onto the chaise lounge. “I attempted to speak to him, to inquire what was the matter and he shunned me. He lifted his hand to my face in front of all of those guests, muttering about how we could have nothing further to discuss as we were no longer to be family by marriage? Please, do not tell me that you are foolish enough to break off your betrothal with a Lord, a marriage that I have gone through so much trouble to acquire for you.”
Silence fell heavy in the room as neither woman spoke. Neither woman felt that the Earl of Evans would like what they had to say. Bridgette wanted to tell him what had happened. She wanted to explain, but the words had trouble finding her tongue.
Her sisters looked like they were nearly about to burst with the effort of containing themselves. “Is this how you repay the favors that I have done? All of the kindness that I have shown you?”
Lady Farbridge spoke, the knot in Bridgette’s throat was growing too large for her to speak. “We do appreciate your kindness, My Lord. Please, have heart, you have not heard the full story.”
The Earl’s eyes moved accusingly over to Bridgette, noting the tear on her sleeve and the nervous way she shifted under his gaze. She watched as his small brown eyes took stock of her person. He noted the disheveled state of her hair as if notating numbers in a ledger. The tracks of tears down her cheeks added more numbers to the equation before he drew the logical conclusion as to what might have caused her to react in the way that she had.
“I see,” he concluded, his gaze seeming to soften. Whether it would make a difference or not, was yet to be seen.
“It would appear that Lord Lork is not content on preserving the mystery or Bridgette’s honor until his wedding night, and attempted to force my daughter into lewd behavior,” Petunia said evenly.
“Nonsense,” the Earl dismissed immediately. “I have known Lord Lork for many years and your daughter is hardly beautiful enough to tempt him into such behavior.”
Bridgette scoffed, audibly. The knee-jerk reaction of men who all attended the club seemed to have was always to defend one another. No matter what.
Petunia and the Earl turned their attention back to Bridgette at the sound. This was likely the exact behavior that Petunia was hoping Bridgette would refrain from. Petunia attempted to convey as much with a knowing look in Bridgette’s direction.
“Despite what you might believe, My Lord, not all men are the way that they present themselves in public. Even more shocking, that men are capable of a great many terrors if they feel themselves so entitled to the life of another, particularly the life of a woman. It is not a matter of beauty, My Lord,” Bridgette’s tone cut sharper, her words dual purposed as she spoke evenly.
“It is a matter of power, of ego. Lord Lork felt himself entitled and this attack is not only against my daughter but the entire Farbridge family and all that it entails. This is an affront to you, My Lord, as well. Whether you see it or not,” Petunia finished, a small hint of pride in her tone.
The Earl considered their words carefully, turning away from them as he deliberated, the fingers of one meaty hand tapping thoughtfully against his chin. “I suppose, in the heat of the moment, Lord Lork might have had the possibility of being carried away with himself.”
“Might?” Bridgette interjected, unable to stop herself. “My Lord, forgive me for speaking so plainly but there is no might about it.”
The Earl was unaccustomed to women speaking to him in such a way, and he blustered. Let alone speaking to him in such a way, twice. He stammered the start of a word but Bridgette spoke again.
“Lord Lork was pressing matters that would compromise my virtue. He did not wish to take no for an answer. I had no choice but to strike him.”
“You hit him?” Tobias’ eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at Bridgette’s small hands.
“I did,” Bridgette admitted. “He left me no choice.”
Bridgette knew as soon as her hand met the side of Lord Lark’s face that she was changing the course of her future. She had wished to take it back. Not because he did not deserve it but because she did not wish to bring her family harm.
“I see.” The Earl deliberated, the wheels in his head visibly spinning as he gestured to Vanessa to get him a drink, which she did.
“My Lord, if I may,” Bridgette spoke softly, her fingers worrying at the fabric of her skirt as she spoke. “I am not a woman who dreams of a perfect marriage. I do not ask for material possession or jewels, but I do ask for kindness. Decency in a man who might show me the same courtesies that I bestow upon him and while he presented himself that way at first…Lord Lork is hardly that man today.”
Bridgette certainly had not assumed she would be rushed and fondled against her will in the closed-off gallery of a ball. She had not liked the smell of wine on his breath as he jammed his lips clumsily against her own, bumping with artless fervor.
Simon Broadley, Lord Lork, had never seen her. Not really. She knew that then. She knew now that she was only a means to an end, an instrumental figurehead to be used, to save himself the trouble of finding women who required coin in order to endure him.
“We can hardly allow such an offense to be left unanswered for,” the Earl agreed, and for a moment Bridgette thought that he had seen reason. “We will…we will move up the wedding with your deepest apologies, we will pass off her reluctance due to maidenly fear and all will be well.”
“What? I will not hear of this,” Bridgette started, but her mother lifted a hand to silence her.
“And what, My Lord, if he will not have her?”
“Of course he will have her, why would he not?” The Earl paused, “But then, you were forceful, were you not? I should have expected such a thing. I was kind enough to bring you, and your whole family in after my brother died. Out of the kindness of my heart, I sheltered you and saved you from ruin, and this is what I get in return? A scandal?”
Petunia rose from the bench and crossed over to Lord Evans with a small bow of her head, the way that she manipulated conversation so simply was an art. Diverting enough that for just a moment, Bridgette wished she knew how to do what her mother did.
“The scandal is not yet too great, My Lord. There is an opportunity for us to turn this situation around. We can find a solution that will help maintain my daughter’s reputation and prevent my other daughters from the possibility of spinsterhood.” Petunia chose her words carefully, she knew that more than anything that the Earl wished them out of his home as soon as he could manage it. He wished for the women to be off and married to somebody with a decent enough income for him to further his station. “Perhaps, with your permission, My Lord, there might be somewhere that we could give Bridgette some time to cool off for the rest of the Season?”
The Earl scoffed. Despite his bluntness, he had a brilliant mind for numbers. Doubtless, he was adding up how much a stay at a country Estate was likely to cost him. What arrangements he would have to make and just generally how difficult the situation would be for him.
However, to Bridgette, it felt like a lifeline. It felt like a breath of fresh air amid all of this sadness. She did not wish to be returned to Lord Lork for anything. She would rather chew her tongue into curd than apologize to him for something that she had not done. It was not her choice to be betrothed to him in the first place. Her first and only priority was her family, the station of her sisters and their happiness. If this would provide an opportunity for some space, to help allow her mother time to mend bridges, then she was going to agree.
“I have a friend,” Petunia offered, her hand soft as she touched the Earl’s forearm. More subtle manipulation by the woman who the word ‘cunning’ seemed to have been invented for. “Her nephew has an Estate in the country that she has been staying at, she has been begging me to come and visit for quite some time. We are dearly overdue, but if you think it might be reasonable, I could write to her and inquire if we could come visit straight away?”
The Earl deliberated, silence spreading throughout the room for a long moment as he seemed to take Petunia’s words and twist them inside of his mind, reshaping them into his own idea. “I think it would be best, if Bridgette were to retire to the country for the rest of the Season,” he nodded, as if finalizing his own idea.
Three women to deal with were certainly better than five. The sisters would be able to look after one another for the short trip. They would not offer any trouble while Petunia and Bridgette were away.
“I will send word to my dear friend Violet right away.” Petunia bowed her head toward the Earl and motioned for her daughters to leave the room right away. Vanessa and Serafina rushed from the space silently.
“My Lady, a word of caution.” The Earl smiled, the expression not quite meeting his eyes. “If this does not work, I daresay it will be more than enough reason to rid myself of you…and your little leeches.”
“Never you worry about that, My Lord. I assure you that this will all work out for the best.”
The Earl stopped Petunia and Bridgette before they could leave the room. “See that it does. I do not have to remind you what is at stake here should this fail.
