“I am very fortunate to have met my husband,” Bridget said.
She kept her tone even and polite, so she was the very picture of a poised lady. Of course, that had nothing to do with wanting to please her husband. It was only that their conversation made her a little less willing than usual to fight.
There was no real significance in her behavior. Certainly, it had nothing to do with any tender feelings directed towards him.
“You are very fortunate,” Lord Boutwell said.
Bridget tried and failed to decipher his expression. Did he regret casting her so callously aside? Or was he truly happy for her? Did he really believe that she was fortunate?
“I believe that I am more fortunate than she,” Lewis said. “Bridget is proving to be an exceptional wife and duchess, not that I expected anything less of her.”
Bridget’s face warmed in the glow of his praise, despite her fierce efforts not to be moved by this man or his words.
“Indeed,” Lord Boutwell said. “I regret that I must end our conversation so quickly, but my dear mother has expressed a desire for lemonade.”
“Of course,” Lewis said.
Lord Boutwell and his mother continued along the path in the opposite direction. Bridget sighed, and some of the tension bled from her shoulders.
“You are doing well,” Lewis murmured.
“Thank you.”
As they continued their walk, Bridget’s eyes drifted to her husband’s handsome face. He looked a little softer than usual, a change that was perhaps prompted by their conversations about their friends and loved ones.
“About your grandmother,” Bridget said, determined not to let Lewis avoid the matter, as she suspected he wanted to.
“You will meet her when it is appropriate,” he said.
“But when isappropriate?” she asked. “That could mean any time.”
“You will have to trust that I know the best time.”
“What about the rumors? Are you unkind to her?” Bridget paused, considering him more carefully. “Do you pay her visits? Isthatwhere you always go in the afternoon?”
He clenched his jaw, and the softness that she had seen in his eyes suddenly vanished. “Enough,” he said.
“What do you meanenough? It is customary to meet your husband’s relatives!”
“Most relatives are well,” he shot back. “My grandmother is not ready to meet you yet! Leave it.”
He did not sound unkind about it, which was confusing. Rather, Lewis presented his grandmother’s condition as if it was…
Something genuine. Something that he feared, and Bridget could detect no malice in his words.
Bridget pressed her lips together and fought down the irrational frustration rising within her. Perhaps it was unfair of her to expect so much from her husband, but it was also entirely reasonable for her to be concerned about the rumors of him mistreating his only surviving relative! Refusing to answer her was absurd behavior, and with a jolt of concern, Bridget wondered if her husband was hiding some malicious deeds. That was the rational cause for him to deny her knowledge of his grandmother, after all.
They continued their walk in silence, Bridget’s mind awhirl with possibilities. Beneath all the curiosity and frustration was something perilously close to dismay, though. They had been talking to one another,trulytalking to one another, and discussing more personal matters than they usually did.
For a moment, she had thought even a little kindly, a little sympathetically, for this man and what sounded like a lonely life. And he had ruined it all with his refusal to truly answer her questions. It was as though all Bridget’s progress during the past several minutes had been swept away, like debris left on the beach.
Once the garden party was at an end, Bridget and Lewis entered their carriage, which would take them back to their townhouse. Before her scandals, Bridget would have been eager to discuss the event—what all the ladies were wearing, who the most eligible gentlemen were, and the gossip that she had heard over the course of the party—but all those matters seemed trivial now when she had no one to talk them over with except her stoic husband.
This man did not care about any of those things, and Bridget’s pride was still a little wounded that he had refused to finish answering her entirely reasonable questions. Was it petulant of her to refuse to speak at all? Of course. But he would not answer her questions, and he had no interest in any matters that she might wish to converse about.
The carriage jolted into motion. Lewis cleared his throat. “You behaved appropriately at the garden party.”
“Did I?” she asked. “Given how you refused to answer my questions, I assumed you would chastise me for wanting to know about you.”
