Lewis shook his head. “I believe that she is with her brother. I do not know where he is, but I am certain that he is keeping my wife safe.”
“I am pleased to hear it, Your Grace. I shall tell the staff that all is well.”
Lewis frowned. He could not recall St. Clair ever speaking so frankly before, much less expressing concerns on behalf of the staff. St. Clair was a man of perpetual frowns, and Lewis had assumed that even Bridget was incapable of defrosting his cold interior. Like Lewis, he had scoffed when Bridget had her little orchestra in the foyer.
“The staff needs to spend less time gossiping,” Lewis said. “Don’t you think?”
“I apologize, Your Grace.”
Lewis took a few steps, intent on returning to his study, but he paused abruptly. “Have they been very worried about Bridget?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” St. Clair said. “Her Grace is well-beloved by the staff. She brings a light to everything she does, and we have heard how good she has been for the Dowager Duchess.”
Lewis squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply. If he had only spent the night in bed with Bridget, none of this would have happened. She would be with him at that very moment. A wave of cold swept over him, and he ached to hold her in his arms once more. They could have spent the evening in bed together.
“She is good,” Lewis said. “For everyone.”
For the first time ever, Lewis considered the possibility thathewas unworthy ofher.
“Indeed, Your Grace. When Her Grace returns, I shall see that you are informed at once,” St. Clair said.
“I would expect nothing less.”
Then, Lewis bolted up the stairs. He encountered none of the staff, as he entered his study and closed the door behind him. For a heartbeat, he simply stood in the dark room. Lewis resisted the impulse to scream. His emotions were all tangled up and confusing.
He did not love Bridget. He would notlethimself love Bridget. But everyone spoke about his wife as if she was the most magnificent woman who had ever lived, and Lewis found that he could not honestly contest everything that his grandmother, Morington, and St. Clair had said.
Bridget was a gem among women, and Lewis had been so focused on her flaws that he had missed everything that made her so wonderful.
CHAPTER 37
Dorothy lay in bed, propped up on pillows and buried beneath a heavy pile of bedding. In her arms, she held her newborn baby, which was red and wrinkled with the smallest tuft of golden-brown hair. After a long and difficult day, Alexander had come into the world.
“I did not anticipate being so tired,” Dorothy confessed. “I suppose that was rather foolish of me.”
“Maybe,” Bridget said.
Her sister certainly appeared exhausted. Dorothy’s face was pale, and gray, swollen shadows had taken up residence beneath her eyes. Bridget had never seen her sister look so worn or so happy.
Dorothy yawned, and her eyelids fluttered.
“Shall I take Alexander?” Bridget asked. “So you can rest?”
Dorothy nodded reluctantly. “Yes. I fear I might fall asleep otherwise.”
Bridget took the baby into her arms with the utmost care. “Sleep well, Dorothy,” she said.
Dorothy hummed and shifted a little beneath the bedding, burrowing into it like a great bear hibernating for the winter. Bridget quietly left the room, Alexander silent in her arms. She surrendered the baby to the waiting nursemaid, who would see to Alexander, so Dorothy could rest.
Then, Bridget walked into the drawing room, where she knew that Catherine and Elias were. Along with Gerard, Bridget and her siblings had taken turns sitting with Dorothy and tending to her and the child.
Catherine and Elias sat on the settee together, drinking tea. Bridget joined them and quietly made her own cup.
“How is she?” Elias asked.
“The same,” Bridget said. “I see Gerard has gone.”
“We finally persuaded him to sleep,” Catherine said.
