“If my brother and your sister are both happy, then everything is right with the world,” the Duke said.
“I agree,” Bridget replied.
She looked back at the Duke, but as soon as they locked eyes, her smile dropped—perhaps she was worried that she was becoming too friendly with him and giving him the wrong idea.
“I saw your father leave,” the Duke noted, changing the topic of conversation.
The neutral expression on Bridget’s face was immediately replaced by a slight scowl.
“Yes, he has gone back to London on business,” she said far too quickly.
“You are glad he is gone,” the Duke remarked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your Mother, too,” he continued. “You are both more at ease without him around.”
“I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“You informed me he is a drunk, but that would not be hard to discern. I saw how he was when he arrived, and then he confined himself to his room. I was sure I saw him drinking from a bottle as he left in his coach, and?—”
“I don’t know what you are insinuating, but you could not be further from the truth,” Bridget snapped.
“Lady Margaret does not know he is an addict, does she?” the Duke asked.
He could see he should not be pushing her this much, but he kept going.
“Can we please return to the gathering?” Bridget asked. “I am tired of your nonsense.”
“I shan’t tell her or Michael,” the Duke assured her. “I don’t mean to bring it up to hold anything over you. I only want you to know that I know what it is like to have an abusive father, and if you ever want to talk?—”
“I don’t have an abusive father,” Bridget stated, almost shouting loudly enough for everyone to hear her. “Now, please take me back to the gathering, and I think it better if we don’t talk to each other.”
“Very well,” the Duke sighed.
He led the way back to the gathering, and he knew he should apologize for bringing up the topic of her father. He had gone too far by pursuing it, but any apologies would fall on deaf ears right now. He could apologize to her later.
“Bridget, how are you feeling?” Margaret asked when the Duke and Bridget rejoined the fray.
Bridget looked down at her foot. “I had forgotten about it. The pain is almost gone.”
“I have that effect on women sometimes,” the Duke quipped. “They feel much better around me.”
He had promised not to talk, but he could not help himself.
“And hearing you speak has brought the pain back,” Bridget scoffed.
She looked pleased to say it, but she quickly turned to her sister, and they shared a look. Bridget looked down at the ground for a second before looking around, as if she had said nothing.
“I have a problem,” Margaret announced. “No,wehave a problem.” She tapped Michael on the arm.
“What is it?” Bridget asked. “Is there a problem with the wedding?”
“There is not, thank goodness,” Margaret replied. “Lord Michael and I wanted to play charades, but Mother and the Dowager Duchess declined to join. They would prefer to sit out here and look at the trees. Is that not boring on such a fine day?”
Bridget replied with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
Nicholas could see where this was going even if Bridget could not, and he found it funny to watch the scene unfold. Margaret was right about one thing: it was a fine day. The sun beat down from almost above, the trees swayed gently in the wind, and the birds floated high on a warm air current. It was the type of weather that made him want to go for a swim again. Perhaps he would still have time before the sun started to dip toward the horizon.
