The startling realization made his mind dart back to the night in the alley… could it be her? If it was the Miss in the alley, her fright would make sense.
As a brisk breeze chilled his skin, he belatedly realized that, once again, he had not learned her name. But if she was the same person as the one he had kissed in that alley, he would find her.
“All I have to do is shadow Lord Hansen,” he vowed, then looked at the locket. Prying it open with one hand, he read, “To my dearest sister Bridget. Love, Frederick.”
Snapping it close, he dropped it in his inside pocket, “We shall see each other again… my dear Bridget.”
“Goodness gracious, Bridget—” Ellie grasped her skirts as they hurried to her carriage, her half boots clacking on the cobblestones. “—What is the matter?”
“I’m sorry,” Bridget gasped as the footman jumped down and opened the door. “But we need to leave. I—I—”kissed a rogueI should not have, “—may have un-endeared myself to a few ladies, which reminds me why I find these events unappetizing to say the least.”
After the footman helped Ellie in, Bridget took her seat across from her friend and finally felt some relief. Now she knew why that needling feeling about him being familiar had jingled in her mind. The Beast of Brookhaven had taken another kiss from her and it felt wrong, completely insane for her to feel so… enticed by him.
The first kiss had come about from her shock.
The second one had come about because she was curious.
What would cause a third?
There will never be a third because I must stay away from him. Rakehells like him are danger. If I get entrapped with him, I am the only one who would come away scathed.
“If that is the case, my dear, why do you look so flushed?” Ellie asked. “Surely, no insult can make you so red. I have seen you brush off humiliating comments with nothing more than a smile.”
“These ones got to me,” Bridget lied while opening the window shade. The cool air felt good on her skin. “It is hard to keep a bright smile when all around you are insults.”
Ellie sighed. “I had wished the anonymity of this night would change things, that the mystery of the night would prevail for you. That, for once, the muses of fate would extend a well-needed boon.”
“Well… I did meet Lord Hansen,” Bridget admitted and nearly cringed at her friend's delightful cry. “He seems intrigued by the very things that set the other ladies on edge. I spoke about the cruel intentions some ladies have when it comes to their marital ambitions and how it destroys innocent souls.”
“You did right,” Ellie shrugged. “Everyone knows it is the truth, but no one will admit it. You’ve done well, Bridget, he is a staid match and a sensible one. If you two do marry, I am sure everything will be as right as rain.”
Bridget thought back to the moment the Duke’s lips had touched hers—and felt her chest go tight. She could not breathe. Pressing a hand to her chest, she sucked in a breath.
This was not right.
This man could not—should not be affecting her this deeply.
I must forget him. He is no good for me. A rake like him is the exact sort of man any respectable lady must avoid. Who knows how many wild oats he has sown up and down the English coast?
At least I will not be another notch on his bedpost.
“I think,” she paused. “I should reach out to Hansen first, but it would be best to send him a letter with your residence. If it does go on, I will explain the truth of my circumstances to him and hope he does not turn away.”
Ellie smiled and patted her hand. “I will do anything I can for you, Bridget, you know that.”
“Thank you, Ellie,” Bridget swallowed over the tight knot in her throat. “I am so grateful for your help.”
“You can repay me by marrying well,” Ellie replied. “And Lord Hansen is the ticket. Believe me, Bridget, you won’t be sorry marrying him.”
I hope you are right.
CHAPTER 8
Even sequestered away in a little room by himself, William could hear the roar of the crowd assembled for his first match. Bracing his hands on the edge of the rickety table, he gazed at himself in the dusty brass mirror.
A gentleman boxer was unheard of in the ton but no one—aside from his two friends, manager, and valet— knew about his secret identity.
Whatever the case, he found himself immune to social scrutiny. It wasn’t as if anyone saw him as a gentleman, after all. All they saw was the image he made sure they needed to see— that of a charming, arrogant, and indolent rake.
