“This is the last part of the agreement.” He asked for Bridget’s hand, and when she extended it, he slid the ring on, then rubbed over her knuckles. “It was my mothers.”
“Duke Arlington,” Lydia finally said. “Our firewood is running low. Would you be a dear and go chop some for us? The ax and firewood are out back, thank you.”
It was clear it was not a request, but an order, and while William’s brows lifted at realizing such a thing, he silentlyshrugged off his jacket and unfastened his cravat. “It would be my pleasure.”
As he left the backdoor, Bridget asked, “Aunt, what did you do that for?”
“To allow us ladies a little privacy,” Lydia replied, tapping her turban. “I have not been in the ton for years, but I can recognize a rake when I see one. I know he is a duke, my dear, but are you sure about this? Weren’t you being courted by an eligible young earl—”
“No, Aunt.” Taking a deep breath for courage, she added, “I am not interested in any other gentleman. It might not be a love match, but it is the one I have chosen.”
“You cannot mean with this man,” Lydia said sharply. “The man has the air of a dangerous scoundrel, a veritable blackguard.”
“He is not a blackguard,” Bridget countered, hurt for William’s sake. “He has a good heart, and I want you to have some time with him to see it’s true. Beyond all that, he has a true and noble character.”
“Listen to me, my dear, the reformation of rakes is the stuff of fiction. In real life, a pretty girl can no more change a man’s heart than a leopard can its own spots.”
Again, I hear the same lines.
Her aunt had a point, but Bridget could not—wouldnot—budge on this; William was the only help she could get to find Frederick. Her eyes flickered out the window just as William was rolling up his sleeves.
The sun burnished the thick waves of his hair and the spattering of hair on his powerful forearms. As she watched, he grasped the worn ax, placed a log on the chopping block, and swung the ax in an efficient arc, splitting the wood neatly in two.
Turning back to her godmother, Bridget began, “I understand your concern, and how you might think me to be a naïf or that I am putting myself in danger of being utterly undone, but please hear me on this, Aunt, he is not what he seems.
“I know he is the sort every mama tells their daughters to run far from, but I see a part of him that no one else sees. I ask you to please trust me on this, Aunt. He is also my only hope to find Frederick.”
“Oh, darling. My fear is that his attention will fade in time and your heart will shatter. It is clear by your face that you feel for this boy more than you would like to admit,” Lydia murmured, “while he might think of you as an amusement.”
“He is not like that,” Bridget replied, nervously twisting the ring. She felt the doubt in her words, because, in truth, she did not know William enough to say such positive words. “I know you have your doubts, Aunt, but please trust me to know my own mind.”
“What about the other lord?”
“Lord Hansen? I have gotten over him. He wasn’t at all the gentleman I thought he was.”
“How was he not a gentleman?” Lydia gaped at her. “Did he make inappropriate advances toward you?” Her cheeks burned.
“No, no, nothing like that! It is just… he never struck me the same way as William,” she replied slowly. “I… I chose what was in my heart in the end. And that was Duke Arlington.”
Her aunt did not look impressed, but her face mellowed. “I have to trust you to do what is right. But please, my dear, tread carefully.”
Somewhat pleased that her aunt had relented, Bridget slipped her ring off because she felt something inside and did not know what it was. “Confortentur.”
Was that… Latin?
The stomp of boots had her glancing up and William entered, his head almost eclipsed by the pile of precisely cut firewood. “I hope this will do.”
“Oh my,” Lydia nodded. “That will do handsomely. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Crouching on one knee, he rested them on the rack, and Bridget unashamedly admired the muscles popping under his breeches and the wiry strength of his forearms; his rock-hard virility quickened her breath.
Standing, he dusted his hands together and asked, “Would you like to come to the manor tonight and we wed in the morning, or would you rather stay here?”
It was completely unheard of for a lady to sleep in the lord’s house before marriage—but they were engaged, weren’t they? Nervously, she decided to do something unheard of. “I would like to stay with you.”
“Well, in that case, please pack some essentials, and I will send for the rest tomorrow. Ma’am,” William turned to her aunt, “the invitation is extended to you also.”
“Thank you, but I would much prefer to stay in my home,” Lydia replied.
