“What happened to all your gowns when you left your parents’ house?” he asked her. “You didn’t bring anything with you?”
“I didn’t really have anything, truth be told,” she said. “My parents made it the responsibility of my aunt and uncle to dress me for the Season when I went to stay with them. They gave me secondhand things from Prudence and her older sisters—and no, I didn’t take those things with me when I left. They never really felt as if they were mine.”
“You should have told me all this,” Reeves said. “I would have seen to it that you had something special to wear tonight.”
“I do have something special, though,” she pointed out. “This gown is a dream. I know it’s not the same as having something of my own, but it does feel like a treat to be wearing it.”
“Well, we shouldn’t let it go to waste,” Reeves decided. “Will you dance with me?”
Her face changed. At first, he thought she was angry—there was a new tension around her eyes that he hadn’t seen there before.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’d be honored.”
“The honor would be entirely mine,” he assured her, and led her out onto the dance floor.
At once, Reeves was aware that he hadn’t thought this through. The last time he had been this close to her had been down by the lake, and there, too, he had acted on impulse, without really thinking about what he was doing. It seemed that Bridget brought out this side of him. He was going to have to be extremely careful about it, because he knew he couldn’t afford to give in to his impulses where she was concerned.
She’ll be leaving soon, he reminded himself.She’s put it off as long as she can, but we both must be hoping that Emma will resume talking soon, and once she does, Bridget will go.
The thought saddened him greatly.
Of course, there was still the fact that he had no idea who had kidnapped Emma in the first place. He was no closer to solving that particular mystery. His hopes that the kidnapper might show himself at the ball had proven to be for nothing. There was nobody here who hadn’t been expressly invited, and no sign of anything suspicious happening. Perhaps the kidnapper had sensed that he would be walking into a trap by coming here tonight.
“You haven’t done this recently, have you?” Bridget asked, interrupting Reeves’ thoughts.
“What?” It took him a moment to catch up.
“Dancing,” she clarified. “Socializing, really. My cousin says you never have anyone to visit you here at your home.”
“No, well, I haven’t seen a need to,” he said. “Why would I invite people here? My home is my sanctuary, and besides, I know what happens when people are exposed to me.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned.
“You haven’t noticed?” He glanced around, surprised that it had escaped her. He couldn’t have missed it if he’d tried. “Everyone is staring at me.”
“Don’t you think that’s because they see so little of you?” she asked him. “This is a novelty for people—being here at Greystone, actually setting eyes on the elusive Duke. Of course they’re staring.”
He barked out a humorless laugh. “You give them too much credit,” he told her. “They’re staring because of my scars. Because they so rarely get the chance to examine my face up close, and now that chance is upon them. Everyone has their own tale to tell about how I got these scars, and after tonight, I’m sure the stories will circulate once again.”
“Howdidyou get them?” Bridget asked.
He looked at her. There was none of the usual eager curiosity on her face. She wasn’t salivating after gossip. “Why do you want to know?”
“It seems important to you,” Bridget said. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just thought maybe you would.”
She was right, he realized. He did want to tell. Maybe because she was one of the only people who had never seemed that interested—maybe that was enough to make him want to open up about what had happened.
“It was Norman,” he said. “Debt collectors were after him. It wasn’t his own debt—his father left him with a bad legacy. But debt collectors don’t care who accrued the debt. All they care about is getting paid, and if it’s not happening quickly enough for their liking, they turn violent.”
“They went for Norman?” Bridget repeated. “That’s awful.”
“He’s one of the best friends I have. One of the only friends I have, really. I had to put a stop to it,” Reeves explained. “When I intervened, one of the men cut my face.”
Bridget gasped. “That’s horrible,” she murmured. “I had no idea something like that had happened to you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t take it back,” Reeves said. “I had to stand by Norman.”
“Of course you did,” Bridget agreed. “I would have done just the same for the orphans under my care. We stand up for the people we care about. I have a lot of respect for that, Reeves.”
