It was not entirely true, but Bridget kept that knowledge to herself. The truth was far murkier. She believed in Irish Home Rule, and she believed in forcing England to rectify the wrongs done to her homeland. But John had changed. He was not the man she once knew, and when the cause had grown more dangerous, the stakes climbing—when dynamite and death plots surfaced and her own brother had become imprisoned—it had been too late for her to extricate herself.
And now she could not, for Cullen’s life depended upon her, and her alone.
“The information she possesses can be discovered by other means.” The iciness of Carlisle’s tone cutting through the chamber sent a shiver through Bridget.
She dared to steal a glance at him from around Daisy’s protective shoulder. His gaze instantly caught hers, boring into her. His expression was rigid. Unyielding. Irate.
“She is a woman, Carlisle,” the Duke of Trent objected. “You know as well as I do that none of those imprisoned thus far have been female. This is a delicate matter, and I suggest you tread with caution.”
Bridget sidestepped her sister, for she would hide behind no one. Regardless of what it was, she would face her fate, head held high, without cowering. “I will be treated the same as any of my fellow countrymen. If the Duke of Carlisle wishes to imprison me, then imprison me he shall.”
“No,” Daisy said firmly, placing a staying hand on her arm, “he will not. After all the mayhem you created for Sebastian and I, Your Grace, aiding my sister is the least you can do to atone for your sins.”
“I’ll not fall on my sword by marrying a traitor,” Carlisle growled. “Nor will I discuss this nonsense a moment more. I will not be marrying Miss O’Malley, and that is final.”
“And just as well, for I would never marry you either,” Bridget returned, stung in spite of herself by his vicious response.
It was precisely what she would have expected from him. After all, she was the enemy. She had attempted to abduct his nephew, a kind and innocent young lad, in an effort to help her brother’s plight. She had lied to Carlisle at every turn, and the ring of men with whom she had become embroiled was dangerous and bloodthirsty. She was no good for anyone, including herself. But hearing Carlisle denounce her as a traitor, calling the notion of marrying hernonsense, hurt nonetheless.
Carlisle turned the full force of his frigid glare back upon her. “Marrying me would hardly be as horrible a fate as you would pretend, madam. You could do no better.”
“That is not saying much for myself, is it?” she asked, unable to resist the jibe. “But then, I am a traitor and a criminal, am I not?”
“No, you most certainly are not.” Daisy gave her arm a warning squeeze.
Bridget wondered again at her sister’s game. They had discussed none of this—not one mad word of it—in the chamber earlier. She glanced back at Daisy, frowning. Daisy arched her golden brows, her expression clearly sayingtrust me. But Bridget had never completely trusted anyone. Not in the entirety of her wretched existence on this earth.
“I am afraid I must disagree with you, Carlisle,” said the Duke of Trent then, drawing all attention back to him. “Marrying Miss O’Malley is in the best interest of the both of you. It will protect her in that you cannot be compelled to offer testimony against her. And it will protect you in that the Home Office will not question why you kept a prisoner in your various homes for a fortnight, rather than commending her instantly to prison.”
Carlisle’s nostrils flared, the only outward sign of his fury. “Trent, I called you here as a courtesy. Not so you could meddle in my affairs.”
But the handsome Duke of Trent was unrelenting, and Bridget had to admit she was rather beginning to like Daisy’s husband, Englishman or no.
“As you meddled in mine?” he asked.
“Is this your sick idea of retribution?” Carlisle’s voice was grim. “I did you a favor, Trent. Look at you, a maudlin fool for your wife, so much so that you would stoop to threatening your superior in the name of abetting a traitor.”
“Myformersuperior.” Trent appeared unmoved by the duke’s angry accusation. “And no, this is not my idea of revenge, though I imagine there is a long line of poor sods who want nothing more than vengeance upon you. This is how I take care of my own. Miss O’Malley is my family now, and she is under my protection. Nor is it a threat, but rather a promise.
“You will procure a license, and you will marry her as hastily as possible, and if you do not, I will go to the Home Office with the information I have in regard to your secreting of Miss O’Malley. Arden has been hungry for your position for years, and he will have no qualms replacing you. When she is no longer in danger, you may annul the marriage as you wish. For now, our first priority is making certain she cannot be dragged off to prison by you or anyone else.”
Yes, Bridget liked the Duke of Trent indeed. Except for his awfully, severely misguided notion she must marry the Duke of Carlisle, everything he had just said was lovely.
“I will not marry him,” she protested again to the room at large.
Daisy took her hands, her expression softened with sympathy. “I am so sorry, Bridget dearest, but you must. It is the only way to keep you safe.”
Something inside her shifted. It was not slow and meandering, not a gradual change, but fierce and sudden. It was a bolt of lightning in a summer sky. A deluge of rain pouring unexpectedly from the clouds rather than a fine mist which turned into a steady torrent.
She stared at Daisy, and the awful realization hit her.
Marrying the Duke of Carlisle could be the best—perhaps even theonly—way she could save Cullen. If she was cast into gaol herself, she had no chance of aiding him at all. But if she remained free, she could still see him freed as well.
For her brother, she would do anything.
Even if it meant wedding the devil himself.
Chapter Ten
