His lips ticked down. “Not experienced in kissing, are we? Not to fear, we will be correcting that soon enough.”
“I—” She didn’t know what to say. “I do not have a history of courting.”
“Never fear,” he said in a strange tone. It sounded smug, almost. “We’ll correct that in good time.”
That wasn’t nice, was it?
He took her hand and she walked off with him, but she could not stop looking over her shoulder to look into the shrouded lane where Duke Arlington had disappeared into.
“Oh goodness no,” Bridget heard Ellie groan as she entered the breakfast room the following morning.
Concerned, Bridget approached her friend, “What is the matter?”
Gesturing to the newspaper, Ellie huffed, “These scandalmongers! They will not let you live in peace.”
Frightened, Bridget took the paper up and spun it to the scandal sheets, heart in her throat. “Readers of this newspaper will be familiar with the names Duke Arlington and Lady Bridget Wycliff who were spotted soaked from head to toe a few days ago.
Now, other news has reached us, and multiple witnesses can attest to this—the Devil and the lady emerged, disheveled, from the dense brush of an undoubtedly lover’s nook, in Vauxhall.
No passerby could give details of something untoward that might have happened between the two, and while we do not speculate about why this occurrence happened so closely to the other one, one can only assume something more. A romance? Lovers trapped together, that’s always interesting.”
Her legs went weak, and Bridget dropped into the nearest chair like a bag of potatoes. “Of course these witnesses would not mention the pickpocket boy, or Lord Hansen, who had found me moments later, because they only want to spur gossip,” she groaned. “Good heavens! Now half of London is assured something untoward had happened between me and the duke.”
“Did… did something untoward happen?” Ellie asked.
“No!” Bridget refused vehemently, while hating that she was lying to her friend. “No such thing. What happened—whatkeepshappening seems to be only a string of unfortunate events. I have my heart set on Lord Hansen.”
“Good,” Ellie nodded decisively. “That is best. I have luncheon with Lady Herringer later today. Would you like to come along?”
“No, but thank you,” Bridget smiled softly. “I think I will rest today before I go home with Aunt.”
Fixing her tea, Ellie smiled. “Sure, dear, but remember, we have Lady Darlington’s ball next week. And I am almost certain Hansen will ask you for your hand in marriage then too.”
Looking down, Bridget felt her heart start to hammer… but not in anticipation… but anxiety.
CHAPTER 13
Clad in one of the drabbest frocks she owned and with a cloak thrown over it, Bridget stepped into the hackney. When the indifferent driver had asked where she was headed, the words “Brookhaven Castle” had made the man a little less indifferent.
“Are y’ sure about that, lady?” he’d asked.
“Very,” Bridget had replied.
Taking advantage of Ellie’s absence, she’d slipped out of the house and hailed a hackney to the present address. As much as she hated deceiving her friend, she had no choice. She had to tell the duke, in no uncertain terms, to stay away from her and leave her in peace.
As the hackney rolled up the long drive, she observed the privacy afforded by the towering trees and hedges, and the estate perched on the hill in the distance.
The driver let her off at the open gates of the Tudor-style mansion and she stepped under the magnificent sweeping arched entrance before heading for the house. As she approached, she realized that the house was not as grand as she initially thought—part of it looked a touch ramshackle.
The front lawns were impeccable, but around the sides, she saw overgrown hedges and cracked stones. The marble steps were faded, and the columns had a thin coat of whitewash on them.
“I guess appearances are deceiving,” she whispered to herself.
When she rang the bell, a man in his senior years answered—his black suit, graying hair, and tailored insignia told her he was the butler. “How may I help you, Miss?”
“I am Bridget Wycliff and I need to speak with Duke Arlington.”
His brows lifted. “Do you have an appointment, Miss?”
