She had slid a forefinger between her lips and was biting down on it. Acting as if he hadn’t seen it—nor the flush that had gone up to her ears—he casually spun the ledger open and went back to work.
Two days later, Bridget was curled up at a window seat in Eleanor’s smaller drawing room, watching the rain—the grim feeling that she was running out of time heavy on her heart and mind. She had not sent the duke the letter yet because her heart and mind were at odds with each other.
Yesterday, she had gone for another outing with the Earl of Hansen, and she had felt uneasy the entire time. Every moment found her comparing the earl and the duke; their mannerisms, the cadence of their voice, the expressions in their eyes when they looked at her.
Graham’s gaze held genial companionship.
The Duke’s gaze held amusement, fiery temptation, and sin.
Lodged between the two, it was as if the rose-colored spectacles she wore had been peeled away and she saw an unfiltered reality for the first time. She could choose the acceptable route, become Lord Hansen’s wife and have an unmarred reputation… or let her baser sensibilities come out and allow the duke his whims.
So why is his offer so tempting…
“What has been bothering you so, Bridget,” Ellie sauntered in, “And for the millionth time, do not dare tell me it is nothing because I have known you from the schoolroom and I can read your face like a novel.”
“I—” She shifted around. “I was thinking about Guinevere.”
It took her friend a hair longer than she normally would to catch on but when she did, Ellie tightened the belt of her robe and asked, “As in King Arthur’s Guinevere?”
“Yes,” Bridget assembled her thoughts. “We know she loves Arthur, the good man, the honorable knight and the benevolent king, who always does right by his people and here. But then there was Lancelot, the enticing one, the man who tempted her into sin.
“We don’t know much about Guinevere, but I’d imagine her to be a calm, rational-headed Miss who would know that it was wrong to be tempted by trouble… though she still allowed it to happen.”
“I feel there is a question somewhere in there, but first…” Ellie sat beside her. “We have to realize both men were not entirely good nor entirely evil. Lancelot was a knight, who stood by Arthur’s side and did many gallant deeds, but his fallible desire for her makes us all paint him as a villain. The same can go for the King too.”
Chewing her lip, Bridget searched for the right question. “Given that both have their faults, how do you know when you’ve met the right gentleman?”
“I wish I knew, dear, or I would be married by now, but I suppose the socially endorsed response is for you to choose the man with the spotless reputation, who does not easily fall into the vices, has a good bloodline, and does not want for money.
“If both parties are attracted to each other, that is lovely, but I would settle for mutual respect and dignity.”
From that perspective, Lord Hansen is the right choice. He is titled and wealthy, not to mention very handsome. He is everything Ishouldwant.
Ellie continued, “But my family was not one to fall into those lines so much. While my mother and father did have a marriage of convenience, they made sure to tell me that money and status are not everything. There are things that cannot be solved by having blue blood or Midas’ coffers.
“I, personally, would rather live with a man who values me as a person, who understands and accepts me for who I am, faults and all, where I can be free to be angry or sad, or vulnerable without being judged or shunted to the side.”
Ellie sighed. “I suppose feeling his kiss down to my toes would help too. Someone who knows his way around a woman’s body.”
Bridget gaped. “But that would mean—”
“We all secretly desire it but outwardly condemn a man for seducing a woman,” Ellie snorted. “The hypocrisy, I tell you.”
The silence that descended over them was soft and melded into the contemplative air the two shared. Bridget could not help but compare the kisses—and felt ashamed when she acknowledged that Duke Arlington won by a mile.
“Are you having doubts about Hansen?” Ellie forged on. “…and seeing as you were comparing Arthur and Lancelot, is there another gentleman in the kerfuffle? Do you want to tell me who he is?”
“I cannot,” Bridget sighed. “Or, I would rather not, because it’s ... complicated.”
“Let us make this a hypothetical situation then,” Ellie said calmly.
Warily, Bridget nodded. “Go on.”
“Is it that you have found yourself attracted to a gentleman you ought not be attracted to and wish these imprudent feelings would be for a proper man instead, and would that other gentleman happen to be… the Duke of Arlington?”
Bridget’s head snapped up. “What? N-no, I could n-never—”
Ellie’s pointed brow had Bridget clamping her lips fast enough, her teeth clicked shut. She then sighed, shoulders slumping, looking everywhere but at her friend. “It’s a long story and you might not believe me.”
