Bridget scoffed. “And here I thought that a change had happened. I see I was a little too hopeful to expect that you could change so suddenly.”
Abel’s eyes bored into Bridget, a flash of irritation flickering across his features. Despite his attempts at reconciliation, she appeared to be focused on turning the situation into a trial of his character.
“Why must every exchange between us devolve into a verbal joust?” Abel’s frustration simmered beneath the surface, his astonishment at her sharp retorts apparent.
Bridget’s chin lifted dramatically. “I had presumed that your intention was to offer a sincere apology, Your Grace. Surely, you did not expect me to simply accept your contrition without due consideration and go about as if naught had occurred.”
Abel’s eyes widened in disbelief, taken aback by her boldness. “Are you now dictating the terms of our reconciliation? Did you not yourself emphasize the importance of letting go of grudges?”
“I have naught more to add on the matter. If that is all, Your Grace, I shall retire to my chambers, for the day has been long and wearisome,” Bridget declared with her nose in the air, and with a cool nod, she turned to make her exit.
Instinctively, Abel reached out to stop her departure, his hand gripping her forearm. He hadn’t planned to do that, and his action shocked him almost as much as it shocked Bridget.
It was so strange that he felt a shiver run through his bones, her skin warm beneath the soft fabric of her dress.
It was unlike anything he’d ever done before, and he felt ashamed about it. All he knew was that he couldn’t let her go, leaving things the way they were.
His surroundings faded from view, and he didn’t care who watched or what the occupants in the hall would think of his actions. He didn’t care. Nothing else mattered to him at that moment.
He had never touched her before, and the sensation it sent through him was like nothing he had ever felt before. There was a stirring deep inside him, and he felt out of breath from the pressure of it.
Bridget gasped sharply and stared at his hand on her arm, wide-eyed like a doe. Slowly, she lifted her eyes until they settled on his.
Time seemed to stop for Abel as their gazes locked, his heart hammering madly in his chest. The moment stretched into eternity until Abel, overcome with embarrassment for the suddenness of his actions, released his hold on her.
A hush fell over the hall, its occupants captivated by the unfolding drama, unable to feign ignorance of the tension that crackled between the two as they watched the exchange.
“Is there aught else you wish to discuss, Your Grace?” Bridget’s voice cut through the air like a blade, her words measured and composed. Her tone betrayed a hint of apprehension, and she looked lost in thought.
“I now perceive Elliot to be a man of sterling character as Olivia has fervently asserted,” Abel confessed, his voice tinged with sincerity. “My sister’s happiness is of paramount importance to me. Though I may not seek a love match for her, as her guardian, it falls upon me to secure her a deserving husband.”
Bridget, ever the voice of reason, interjected with a gentle admonition. “It is crucial to speak with compassion whenassessing one’s character. Elliot’s presence assures the safety and well-being of your sister, rather than posing any threat.”
“I have witnessed this myself,” Abel acknowledged, his gaze softening with understanding. He was touched by the tenderness that bloomed between Olivia and Elliot.
Bridget, firm in her beliefs, ventured to challenge Abel’s reservations regarding love matches. “I daresay, a union founded on love is not to be scorned,” she remarked. “There are reasons to cherish such alliances, contrary to your apprehension.”
“I possess valid reasons for my hesitation regarding love matches.” Abel, resolute in his beliefs, conveyed his doubts about such unions.
He recalled the anguish his mother endured and ultimately succumbed to after his father’s passing, unable to recover from heartbreak. He sought to shield Olivia from a similar fate, as she was too young to grasp the gravity of such matters, nor was she burdened by his responsibilities as a duke at a tender age.
“I firmly believe that love matches deserve high regard,” Bridget said, furrowing her brow.
“I beseech you to peruse the tomes in the manor’s library dedicated to romance, for they might enlighten you on matters of the heart.”
Abel allowed himself a smile. Only Bridget could offer him an invitation to the library as a reconciliatory gesture. He considered the offer with some mirth.
“Such tales pale in comparison to the complexities of real life.” Ever the pragmatist, he dismissed the notion of literary enlightenment.
“I disagree, Your Grace.” Bridget was determined and unfazed.
“Perhaps the fanciful notions derived from such works have contributed to your unmarried status, I presume?”
The question came off harsher than intended, but Abel sincerely pondered why she seemed content with spinsterhood.
Bridget’s eyes flashed with fury, clearly offended by his statement. “Might I inquire as to why you, Your Grace, have yet to find a bride? Surely, the task should not prove arduous, as any lady of your choosing should be fit to bear an heir and host grand soirées for the ton.”
Abel’s countenance darkened, his azure eyes ablaze with ire, though he managed to maintain his composure as he continued to stare at her, unsure of how to respond.
