She was astonished when she saw Lord Michael enter her room.
He did not enter her room fully, only pushing his torso into the room and keeping his legs on the other side of the threshold. Bridget got up from the bed and took a step toward him, but he held his hand up to stop her.
“I understand this is unorthodox, but I meant to speak to you somewhere else, and I heard you might be sick. I was worried you might not leave your room and I would not get the chance to ask you.”
Lord Michael looked nervous to be standing at her bedroom door. He continually looked back over his shoulder and did not dare walk into the room any further.
“What can I do for you, My Lord?” Bridget asked, thoroughly confused by the situation.
He obviously didn’t want to be spotted, and Bridget did not want that either. She had to get him away from her door as quickly as possible.
“I wish to purchase Margaret a wedding gift that I’ll give to her on our wedding day. There are so many things I could get her, but I need it to be perfect, and I know you can help me.”
Bridget let out a long breath. “I just need to—” She could not say no to him when she saw the look on his face. Margaret deserved all the happiness in the world. “What did you have in mind?”
Lord Michael smiled, and Bridget could tell he was thinking about her sister.
“Perhaps some jewelry or a book of poems. I had also thought about writing her a letter telling her how much she means to me, or… no, it is foolish.”
“What?” Bridget probed softly.
“Well, I have heard that men sometimes gift a lock of hair as a token of commitment. Perhaps in a locket or other keepsake.” Lord Michael did not know where to look, and his eyes darted around the room.
“Margaret can be very sentimental,” Bridget revealed. “A love letter or a lock of your hair would go over well. She would cherish them for the rest of her life.”
Lord Michael smiled sweetly and looked up at her. In London Society, he would hold all the power, but on the estate, with his future happiness at stake, Bridget held the power.
“Perhaps both?” he asked with a smile still on his face.
“That will make her very happy,” Bridget replied.
Lord Michael smiled wider before taking a deep breath, as if he were holding his breath since entering the room. “Thank you, Lady Bridget.”
“You are welcome,” she replied.
He left her room, and she could finally go back to resting. She did not need to rest her ankle, but she did need to rest her mind. She managed to get twenty minutes of peace this time before another knock sounded at her door.
The knocker did not wait this time, and the door opened immediately after the knock. Margaret burst into the room, her cheeks pink and tears in her eyes.
“What has he done?” Bridget demanded.
“What? Who?” Margaret wailed as she searched her sister’s room. “He’s gone!”
“What? I can’t believe he would?—”
“Mr. Peaches,” Margaret cried. “I don’t know where he is, Bridget. I shan’t be able to rest until I find him again.”
It took Bridget a moment to catch up. “Mr. Peaches? Your cat?”
“Yes! What other Mr. Peaches do you know?” Margaret snapped.
Bridget gave her sister a pass, with the wedding approaching and other troubles they had.
“I didn’t even know you brought him here,” she said.
Margaret continued to search the room as if Bridget might be hiding the cat.
“I kept him in my room because I know Father does not like when Mr. Peaches roams the estate, and he will be back any day now. He was in my room, and I had closed my door, but when I went back in there, he was nowhere to be seen. What am I to do, Bridget?”
