“Greenway,” the Duke said. “It has been some time.”
Thatwas an absurdly formal address. Bridget did not know if that meant the men were long-time acquaintances or if this Duke was just uncommonly informal.
Suddenly, Bridget realized that they were not alone. Thetonhad gathered around them, watching and whispering. Lady Susan looked especially smug, and the victorious gleam in the lady’s eyes made Bridget wonder if Lady Susan already planned to twist this into her favor somehow.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Dorothy said. “For saving my sister.”
“If you really wish to thank him, you ought to send him banknotes for his clothes,” Bridget said.
“Do not trouble yourself,” the Duke said.
“It seems we should,” Gerard said. “After all, if clothes are a concern to you…”
The atmosphere became tense, like the sky before a coming storm, and Bridget shifted uneasily. Although somewhat reformed, Gerard still reminded her of a rake. He was cheerful and enthusiastic, a little salacious with Dorothy when he thought no one was paying him any mind, and generally a presence of good will and energy.
But this was something else. He and the other Duke looked at one another as if they were engaged in a passionate, silent war that was being fought entirely with brittle smiles and hard stares.
Bridget took a step backward, meaning to move toward her sister, when her foot slipped from beneath her. The stranger reached for her, and in the same instant, Bridget darted away from him. She did not care if she fell. Any misfortune was better than accepting aid from that man.
She crashed onto the ground, landing hard on her buttocks. The sound of her fall was accompanied by the thin trill of fabric tearing, and cool air rushed up Bridget’s wet legs. Her petticoats and chemise were suddenly visible, and with a dull sense of dread she realized what had happened.
His Grace had tried to catch her and grasped her gown, which had torn. Now, the gatheredtonhad a most indecent look at herpartially bare legs, and that wet, white material was doing little to conceal the part of herself that remained covered.
“Bridget!” Dorothy exclaimed.
Dorothy seized the torn material from the Duke’s grasp and practically threw it over her sister’s exposed skin all while looking fantastically flustered.
“I suppose Lady Bridget does not even need privacy…” Lady Susan whispered, the insinuation clear.
Bridget’s eyes burned with tears, as Dorothy leaned towards her. “Do not listen to them. Come on, Bridget,” she murmured.
“Will he marry that ruined girl?”
“He touched her!”
“What a start to the Season!”
“I was drowning!” Bridget shouted.
The whispers stopped, but the anticipation of more hummed beneath her skin.
“While you were all talking, His Grace rescued me,” she continued, her voice quivering.
“Yes,” Gerard said sternly. “There is no scandal here, except that the rest of you are evidently so apathetic that you would let a woman drown in a lake!”
Bridget could not bring herself to look at the crowd to see if Gerard had successfully cowed anyone.
“Give me your coat, dearest,” Dorothy whispered. “We need to cover her.”
“I disagree that it is not a scandal, Your Grace.”
Lord Beaumont. Once, he had been interested in courting Bridget, too.
“Do you?” Gerard asked, giving the man a murderous look.
“Yes,” Lord Beaumont said.
“Gerard,” Dorothy said insistently.
