“He fled,” Lydia sighed. “Such a foolish young man. I had such hopes for him to be better off than any of the other scoundrels around. I prayed night and day, but I suppose my pleas went unanswered.”
“He was a different man when he returned from the war,” Bridget looked down at her hands. “He was surly, fidgety, he hardly slept and was out every night drinking. I pleaded with him, Mr. Simmonds, our butler pleaded with him, even his wife tried her hand, but he never listened.”
Clucking her tongue, Lydia stood and went to the kitchen nook, then set a pot on the stove. “I am sorry that this burden is on you, but he made his bed and lie in it he must.”
Biting her lip, Bridget considered her options, and one striking promise stood stark in her mind.The Beast of Brookhaven is forever in your debt.
When he had uttered those words, Bridget had never considered any occasion for her to pull on his promise—heaven knew she had never expected to see the man again, but knowing the bind she was in… maybe it was time for the duke to pay up on his promise.
“Your Grace,” Oliver bowed, his dark figure a contrast to the light morning rays. “You have a visitor.”
Looking up from the ledger on his desk, William sat the quill on its blotter and rolled his neck. The accounts were starting to add up, something he had not seen in a long while. “Tell Lightholder I will be with him shortly, and please send up another carafe. I have a feeling the bloke is three sheets to the wind.”
“It is not Baron Thornbury, Your Grace, it is Lady Bridget,” the valet said unflappably.
William’s brows shot up. “She’s here? Why? After our last discussion, to put it mildly, I’d think she would stay half the continent away from me.”
“So would I,” the valet replied, lips flickering. “Shall I send her up?”
“Please,” William answered. “Do we have any tea?”
“My daughter has some Ceylon,” Oliver said. “Shall I send her up with a pot?”
“Only if dear Lucy does not soak the carpet with the precious brew,” William put in wryly, remembering how clumsy the young woman could be at times.
“I assure you, she will take one step at a time,” Oliver guaranteed him with a bow.
Returning to his books, William settled another column, before he heard the soft footsteps of slippered feet approaching.
He glanced up.
She wore a smart gray dress with a white lace collar. Oddly enough, the severity of the dress displayed her slender, vulnerable femininity to perfection.
“Lady Bridget. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” he asked, returning his gaze to the other column. “Have you come to accept my proposal?”
“No,” she stated flatly. “And you need to give up on such a dream. We will not marry.”
Snapping the ledger shut, he shifted it to the side, leaned forward, and steepled his hands before his chin. “Why did you come then?”
“To seek your help in finding my brother,” she declared matter-of-factly.
His brow arched. “And why would I do that, without incentive?”
Her lips curved. “I frankly remember a certain Beast of Brookhaven telling me he was forever in my debt. I have come to call in that debt.”
William was shocked. Shocked that she had not only remembered his off-the-cuff remark but that she had found the gumption to hold him to his word. “Ah…” he sat back and drummed his fingers on the table. “And where could this brother possibly be?”
“I do not know,” her lips twisted. “But our guess is that he is hiding in the rookeries and slums around London—”
“Dodging creditors, I assume,” William nodded as Oliver opened the door and his daughter carried in the tea tray. He watched intently as the young woman set the tray on the coffee table and curtsied.
“Thank you, Miss Lane. Would you please make her cup,” he nodded toward Bridget.
After telling her how she took her tea, the two left—and William, decisively ignoring Oliver’s pointed stare all the while, asked Bridget, “Tell me about your brother.”
Her shoulders sunk and her gaze strayed to the window, face mired in sorrow and defeat. “My brother fought in the Peninsular War and came back a different man,” she began.
“He started drinking whatever spirits he could get his hands on. He spent on fine whiskey until he could afford it no more, and then moved on to Blue Ruin. He gambled too, and when he lost, which was more than he won, the debts kept piling up.”
