“That is untrue,” Lewis said, sounding utterly baffled. “I am the same man that I always have been.”
The Dowager Duchess shook her head. “Why argue? You have become abetterman. There is a lightness to you that was not there before, and I am pleased to see it.”
Lewis shook his head, his expression bemused. “I regret letting the two of you meet,” he said without any real heat. “You have chosen to create an alliance against me, and that is unfair.”
The Dowager Duchess cast a sly look at Bridget. “Youletus meet? I believe we would have eventually met, even without your permission.”
Bridget smiled. The knot in her chest loosened a little. Even if their initial meeting had been disastrous, the Dowager Duchess had forgiven her for it. “Yes,” Bridget said. “We would have.”
Lewis shook his head. “Absurd.”
“It has been some time since I have had an alliance with another woman,” the Dowager Duchess mused. “We must see one another again, Bridget. I—I imagine that I shall enjoy your company immensely.”
“Really?”
The Dowager Duchess anxiously picked at her nails, which Bridget saw were torn and jagged. Was that a symptom of her ailment? Bridget forced her eyes away, concerned that the Dowager Duchess might notice her attention and become upset.
“Yes,” Her Grace said. “I shall. It will simply take some…time to become accustomed to you. I am determined to do it, though, even if it is difficult.”
“And it will be,” Lewis said.
“Yes,” the Dowager Duchess agreed. “Bridget, I ask that you be patient with me.”
Bridget nodded. “Of course, I will be.”
The Dowager Duchess smiled, her expression brittle. The clock chimed, heralding the new hour, and Lewis abruptly stood. “We must leave,” he announced. “Thank you for the visit.”
The ladies both rose to their feet, the Dowager Duchess offering a fond pat to Lewis’s arm. “Thank you, dear. I know you are very busy.”
Bridget curtseyed. The Dowager Duchess inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the gesture. Lewis offered his arm, and Bridget let her husband escort her from the room.
Once they were out of earshot, Bridget turned her head toward him. “Well?” she asked.
“It did not go badly,” Lewis said. “It could have been worse.”
“She trembled throughout the whole conversation.”
Lewis sighed deeply. “Yes. But that was a lesser concern. My grandmother’s melancholy is a peculiar ailment. She anticipates difficulties that may never arise.”
Bridget furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
They reached the carriage, and Lewis waved the waiting footman away. “I would prefer to walk home.” He paused and gave Bridget a hesitant look. “You are welcome to take the carriage if you like.”
There was some other meaning in his words, but Bridget could not quite decipher what it was. “I will continue with you,” she said instead.
“Very well.”
They walked alongside the road. It was not far to their townhouse, but walking would give her more time to speak alone with her husband. Once, Bridget would have dreaded having to walk with him and would have done anything to avoid him, but she had to concede that this was…pleasant.
“If we walk back to the townhouse, what is the worst thing that might happen?” Lewis asked.
“Do you imagine something bad might happen?”
“No,” he said. “I am trying to explain how my grandmother’s mind works. What is the worst misfortune that might feasibly befall us?”
Bridget pursed her lips together. The street in Mayfair was fairly pleasant, filled with happy couples and the odd carriage. She supposed that some of the cobblestones were loose, which made riding a little tumultuous at times; Mayfair’s roads were nothing compared to other places in London, though. It looked peaceful and perfect. Even the sky was cloudless and bright.
“It is difficult to imagine any misfortune befalling us,” she said.
