The parrot squawked, its voice surprisingly clear and distinct.
“Love conquers all!” it screeched, flapping its wings dramatically.
Abel blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Bridget, meanwhile, couldn’t help but burst into laughter. This was Hector in his element, a master of organized chaos.
“Hector,” she said through her laughter, “you ingenious pest! Now, before Theodore decides to make any other scandalous declarations, let’s get him settled.”
Hector grinned broadly.
As attention turned to Theodore, a welcome distraction from the formalities to come, Bridget stole a sideways glance at Abel. A faint smile lingered on his lips, amusement battling with his usual stoicism.
The arrival of other guests soon transformed the serene garden into a bustling social scene. Ladies in their finest gowns gossiped under parasols, gentlemen in tailored suits exchanged pleasantries, and the air thrummed with polite conversation and nervous laughter.
Bridget, ever the dutiful daughter, found herself swept into the social whirlwind. She greeted distant relatives, exchanged pleasantries with families vying for alliances, and endured probing questions about her unmarried status. Yet, throughout the cacophony, her mind kept drifting back to Abel.
Their unexpected conversation resonated with her. Here, amidst the superficiality of the ton, she had found a connection with him, a shared appreciation for literature and a hint of rebellion against societal expectations.
She pushed thoughts of him out of her head. Friends. That’s all they could be.
You don’t fall head over heels for a man simply because you both enjoyed the same book.
She hurried into the house, trying to avoid more questions about her lack of a husband.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bridget watched from the mirror as her maid helped adjust her corset, securing it until it was a perfect fit. Her mother had picked out a fanciful evening dress of the finest lace for her to wear to this evening garden party held at Wareham Estate by Abel.
“This dress looks beyond flattering on you, my dear,” the Countess said, giving her a once-over.
Bridget ran her fingers along the soft satin of the gown. “I can’t deny, it doesn’t look bad,” she said, her face masking her true sentiment.
She knew that in no time, the Countess was going to start with her lectures about how she needed to find herself a husband.
“Perhaps you might find a suitable suitor from this gathering—” she started.
There she goes…
“Mother!” Bridget tried cutting her off.
Ruth never missed a chance to bring it up, so this conversation was inevitable.
“If only you could act more ladylike just like your soon-to-be sister-in-law, Olivia, you could have long been married to a reputable man in Society,” Ruth chided.
Bridget knew there was no stopping her mother once she started on these customary lectures of hers. Hector was the only person who could have easily distracted her once she began, but he was nowhere in sight, so Bridget let her go off.
“The Duke will be in attendance this evening, as you know. He is a very fine young man, so try to make a better impression on him this time and refrain from bickering so much”
“I already told you he was a waste of time,” Bridget pointed out for what must have been the hundredth time.
The Countess cast a questioning glance at her daughter. “And what would you know about wasting time?”
Bridget suppressed a sigh, steeling herself for arguing with her mother.
“The carriage is ready and waiting. Get ready to leave,” her mother said with a note of finality as she walked out of Bridget’s chamber.
Bridget’s relationship with the Duke was one for the books. They were at each other’s throats at every given chance, yet there were also moments, just small fleeting moments, when they really got along, bonded over things they had in common, and it seemed like there was a hint of a deeper connection there, but she knew better than to delude herself into thinking of such.
However, whenever he was close by, her heart raced with reckless abandon against her chest. She didn’t know what this meant.
