CHAPTER 1
“Can you believe it? She has returned!”
Bridget Leedway’s face grew hot. Her green eyes snapped to the scandalized speaker: Some lady, whose face was partially concealed by her open parasol.
She seemed to notice Bridget’s gaze, for her eyes took on a new gleam—one of delight—and she hurried along. Her companion had the grace to look a little embarrassed, as though she realized that this behavior was untoward, but she offered no defense to Bridget.
Their paths crossed for but a moment, and the ladies were gone a heartbeat later, continuing in opposite directions through Hyde Park.
“Soon, the Season will begin, and everyone will find some new scandal with which to occupy their attention,” said Dorothy. “I promise.”
Bridget cast a sideways glance towards her elder sister and felt a small spark of guilt. The previous Season had been Bridget’s first, and she had not been kind to Dorothy. While her elder sister had meant well, wanting to guide Bridget through the dangers of ill-intentioned suitors, the advice had been disregarded. Bridget had resolved to be her own woman, and it had…
Well, it seemed as though the entiretonremembered how poorly it had gone.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” Bridget said, “and enjoy the Season.”
Following the scandal, she had retreated to the countryside to stay with Catherine, their other sister, and her husband. It had been enjoyable enough but mostly too peaceful. Bridget had longed for the beauty and life of London.
“It will be nice to have the company,” Dorothy said, her hand lowering seemingly unconsciously to her stomach, which was large enough that it was obvious even through her loose gown.
Many ladies who were with child would have already retreated from polite society, but not Dorothy. Bridget suspected that her sister’s new brazen streak had something to do with her husband Gerard Layton, the Duke of Greenway. He had once been a notorious rake and responsible for a seemingly endless litany of scandals, but he had been forgiven.
Thetonwas kinder to men’s vices than women’s, though.
“It should not be long now,” Bridget said.
Dorothy cast her a puzzled look.
“Until the baby,” Bridget clarified. “A few more months.”
“Indeed.”
The sisters continued their walk, the whispers plaguing their every step.
“She has some nerve showing her face again!”
“Who do you imagine will want to marry her now?”
“No one.”
“Well, someone might. Her brother is a Duke, after all.”
“Someone desperate.”
“Someone poor.”
“Someone ruined even more than she is.”
Bridget inhaled, trying to focus on the sweet smell of spring flowers and recently fallen rain, but that was insufficient forsilencing the whispers all around her. The cruel gossip beat against her eardrums like a symphony.
“Would you like to return to the townhouse?” Dorothy asked.
Bridget took a shaky breath. “Do you want to?”
Dorothy furrowed her brow. Bridget knew her sister well enough to realize that she was thinking about how to spare Bridget’s feelings, rather than trying to decide if she wished to continue their promenade or not.
“I am a little fatigued,” Dorothy conceded at last. “Perhaps we can stop by the usual bookstore on our way home?”
