“I don’t understand,” Bridget murmured.
“I can’t give you what you want,” the Duke repeated. “I enjoyed the kiss also, but that is all it was—a kiss. We can’t ever have more than that.”
“What? Why? Because of what I have said? I never said I did not want to wed. I only?—”
“I know,” the Duke interrupted. “It is because of what I feel. I am the one who does not want to marry and never will. I shall not tempt fate and be like my father. You wish to marry if you can find a man who respects you for who you are, and you deserve to find that. I do respect you, and I do enjoy your company—you must believe me—but I cannot marry you. If we spend more time together, I will only break your heart.”
“You don’t know what I want or need!” Bridget shouted.
“Do I not?” the Duke challenged. “Am I mistaken about any of the points I have made? You want more from me than I can give you—I can see it in your eyes. If I stay, I shall only break your heart, and that will break mine.”
“There must be another way,” Bridget begged.
“I know there is not. I felt it in the kiss. I could see our entire story laid out before me. We might be happy for a while, but it would only turn to bitterness. I might have feelings for you, and they might grow, but I cannot give you the respect you deserve by marrying you or starting a family with you. You will become another of my women, and neither of us want that.”
Bridget tried to think of another way or to convince herself that she would be fine with that arrangement just to get some more time with him.
Perhaps I can convince him, change him.
“Please don’t go,” she croaked.
“I really did enjoy our time together,” the Duke told her. “I enjoyed last night very much.”
He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it. Then, he dropped it, letting her go.
“Tell Michael I shall talk to him another time. I must leave.” His eyes were glossed over. “Goodbye, Lady Bridget.”
“Goodbye, Your Grace,” she mumbled, unable to say anything else.
CHAPTER23
The Father of The Bride
Bridget did not cry until the coach had left the estate. She did not want the Duke to see the emotion he had stirred in her. She faced away from the house in case anyone was watching and let the tears fall, not moving her body as the sadness seeped from her.
I must be strong for Margaret. This is about her and not me. I was living in a fairytale for a few days, that is all it was.
She consoled herself with the fact that she was the only eligible woman in the area who had created a connection between them. If they had both met in London, nothing would have happened. Everything was amplified because they had been thrust together.
Bridget tried to convince herself that she did not have feelings for the Duke. She might have been able to do that if she did not think about him constantly. His coach had barely left the estate, and she found herself missing him.
She took the handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and wiped her eyes before turning to face the music. It was not only helping Margaret with the wedding, but there would be questions, too. Margaret would still be convinced Bridget and Nicholas were a good match, when the truth was that it was all over between them.
Bridget caught sight of someone in a window to the right, and while she could make out who it was, she knew the identity of the imposing figure. Some of the guest bedrooms were at the far end of the house, and it would have been where her mother would have put her father when he returned last night.
She knew it was stupid to get so angry, but she was ready for a fight after the Duke had left so suddenly. She stormed back toward the house as if leading an army toward a castle.
When Bridget entered the large house, Margaret was in the main entranceway, and she looked at her sister and opened her mouth to speak. But she quickly clamped her mouth shut when she saw the look on her eldest sister’s face. Bridget marched past her and down the long hallway that led to their father’s room.
She knocked loudly on the door when she got there.
“Yes!” her father shouted. “Come in.”
Bridget opened the door and entered the room. Ralph looked fresher than he had the previous time she had seen him, but he was still unshaven, with black circles under his eyes. Even though he had told her to come in, he looked annoyed that she had.
“Father, I need to speak to you,” Bridget stated.
“And I need to speak to you,” he replied. “You may go first.”
