“I see,” Bridget murmured, controlling her emotions even more than she had been before. It certainly wouldn’t do to let Reeves see that what he’d just said had left her feeling relieved. He couldn’t be allowed to notice the new lightness within her at the realization that he hadnotbeen standing there thinking about how much he loved and longed for his late wife. He wanted Emma to have her mother, but that didn’t mean thathewished Rosalie was the one standing here with him.
Now she was thinking again of the evening he had come to her room and asked her to lift her skirt, of his warm, surprisingly gentle fingertips resting on her ankle. What had that touch really meant? It had been so deliciously gentle. And here he was, talking about the woman to whom he had been married—with respect, yes, but with no passion. It was hard to imagine that he had ever touched her so tenderly.
Is it possible he did feel something that night? Something close to what I’ve been feeling all this time?
There was no way of knowing—but the news that he hadn’t felt that way about his late wife did warm her slightly. It left room for the possibility that he was having the same experience she was. That he might be shocked, for the first time, to find himself feeling a new sort of affection for someone.
It’s a very unlikely thing. I shouldn’t allow myself to think it.
But then an even more unlikely thing happened.
Reeves stepped forward, closing the already slight distance between the two of them, reached out, and took her hand.
Bridget’s heart stopped.
What was he doing? What could he be thinking? She ached to ask him, to find out what this gesture meant to him. But she was terrified, too, that any words would break the spell. She held her breath, sure that if she were to let go, he would do the same.
“I owe you thanks,” he told her seriously. “I owe you gratitude, Bridget. What you’ve done, both for me and for Emma, means the world to me. And thank you for bringing me out here today, truly. Thank you for forcing me to abandon my own whirling thoughts and to focus on something else. Thank you for sharing what you did about your father. I understand what you want me to hear in that. I don’t know if I believe it or not, but it means a lot to me that you would try.”
He tugged her just a bit closer. She went to him willingly.
And then his arms were around her.
She couldn’t move. It was too shocking, being held by him like this. It was warm and secure, and she was filled with the scent of him—manly and unlike anything she’d ever smelled before. She leaned into his chest and took a deep breath, savoring this unexpected and impossibly lovely moment.
And then it was over. He let her go. His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, as if he were trying to assess the impact of what he had done, and Bridget was miles beyond being able to control the response on her face. Whatever he saw, he would just have to see.
“We should get back to the house,” he said gruffly. “Do you need help mounting?”
She was tempted to say yes, to feel his hands on her body one more time.
But she shook off the temptation. Let the last time he had touched her be because he’d wanted to, not because she had needed him to. And if it happened again, let that also be born of desire.
She shook her head and pulled herself up to a seat on her horse’s back. Taking the reins in her hands, she turned the animal’s head toward the house, her thoughts spinning a mile a minute.
CHAPTER 24
“Prudence, you’re early!” Bridget enthused, welcoming her cousin in the foyer. “The ball isn’t due to start for several hours!”
“Yes, but I’ve been looking forward to this day so much,” Prudence said with a smile, embracing Bridget. “And so has Leonard. Haven’t you, Leonard?”
Prudence’s husband, the Duke of Desford, grinned. “I always enjoy a good ball,” he said. “Lovely to see you again, Bridget.”
“And you,” Bridget said, returning his smile. She liked Prudence’s husband. Seeing the two of them together was almost enough to make her wish that she had found a match herself. Most gentlemen were more difficult to get along with than Leonard, who had made a significant part of his character the simple fact that he loved Prudence. That was what Bridget liked best about him—the way he doted on her cousin. She supposed that if she could have found a man who treated herthat way, she might have been able to see herself accepting a courtship.
Prudence linked arms with her. “Let’s allow the men to catch up,” she said. “Are you able to get away for a bit, or do you have too much to do in preparation for tonight?”
“No, I can get away,” Bridget said. “Most of my work is done. What’s left is for the servants to do. And Emma is with her aunt for the next few hours, so you and I can certainly go somewhere and talk. We’d be out of the way if we went to the conservatory.”
“Lead the way,” Prudence said.
Bridget did, feeling a strange sense of pride. It was almost as if this manor was somehow hers—she felt as though she was showing it off to her cousin. She couldn’t help but notice Prudence looking around as they went, taking the place in, and when they reached the conservatory, Prudence let out a gasp. “This is beautiful.”
Bridget nodded, seeing it as if for the first time—the big, round room, the floor-to-ceiling windows, every other one of which was filled with stained glass. “I do love it here,” she said. “The library is even more beautiful. You’ll have to get a look at that while you’re here for the party. Have you never visited Greystone Manor before?”
“Never,” Prudence said. “Reeves might be one of Leonard’s closest friends, but he doesn’t seem to like having guests to his house. He’s never invited me here, and I couldn’t say forsure whether he’s even invited Leonard. Certainly not since I’ve known them.”
“That does sound like the man I’ve come to know,” Bridget admitted.
