Her rooms had been her only place of solace, but since Warren’s funeral was today, and her home had been filled with socialites offering their condolences, she had been exhausted. Once they had all departed and her home was blissfully quiet again, she had slouched into a chair in the dining room and allowed Mona to fetch her a plate—the first she would have eaten all day.
“It is not about looking well,” she replied, drawing her napkin from her lap as she gave up on the idea of eating. “It is about paying my respects to the dead.”
She stood from her chair, drawing on her newfound strength to speak up for herself.
“And please, do not call me darling. It is most inappropriate.”
Victor’s brows drew up in surprise at her calm insistence.
“You seem much changed, Bridget,” he stated, his eyes slowly moving down her person. “I had thought that your marriage to my brother was one of convenience, but clearly his death has affected you personally.”
Bridget’s spine ached with how quickly she stiffened. No one but Adrian would know how much she had changed and how she had done so before the news that she was a widow.
She had struggled those first two days since Warren’s death, trying to reach into the depths of her emotions to find the ability to mourn for the loss of her husband. The harsh truth, however, was that she felt nothing but relief. She wasfree.
Though she did not know what that meant for her financially, what she did know was that where there had been scathing judgment from her peers, there was now only pity. Thus, not only was she free from her loveless marriage, but she was now free from the humiliation of theton.
“I must kindly insist that you do not make any assumptions regarding me, Victor,” she insisted. “I have been troubled by the assumptions of others for far too long.”
A look almost resembling pity hovered in Victor’s eyes, and he nodded.
“Rest assured, Bridget, that if you accept my proposal, you will never need to worry about another’s assumptions. It would be clear to all how I felt for you. I love my brother, and I will miss him, but I will never understand how he did not see that you are a charming woman.”
Bridget was startled by his kind words. When he had first brought up the idea of their marriage, he had spoken only on the practicality of such a union. Of course, there were the embraces that lasted far too long. The lingering looks that made her skin crawl. However, up until now, he had spoken only about the practicality of marriage.
“I thank you for your… interesting point of view, Victor. However, my decision still stands. I am declining your offer. Respectfully, of course.”
Victor’s eyes darkened as his grip on the chair visibly tightened.
“You are still grieving. You have not given yourself time to truly consider my offer yet,” he said, his voice more grating than before.
“A day. A week. A year. My answer will still be the same,” she answered, drawing on her newfound strength. “My answer is no.”
She swept her hands down her black skirts, as if brushing away not just the conversation, but her time in the estate.
“You do not know what you are refusing, Bridget. What will become of you? A childless widow has no place in this world but by her late husband’s family.”
“I fully understand what my circumstances mean. I will make arrangements to find somewhere else to live as soon as possible. The estate, of course, is rightfully yours, and I have no interest in contradicting that fact.”
She turned toward the double doors, done with the conversation, but she was barely able to take a few steps before she felt Victor’s tight grip painfully settle around her upper arm.Bridget tried to wrench away immediately, but Victor spun her to face him.
“Let go of me!” she demanded, fear starting to eat away at her bravery.
“You seem to think you actually have a choice here, Bridget,” Victor stated, the anger in his eyes apparent as he gazed down at her. “You were more or less sold to my brother by your guardians, and you are a fool if you think they would take you back after ignoring you for so many years. You are nothing but a chip in a game of poker, my dear. It will do you a great service if you finally accept that.”
Half frightened, half-enraged, and entirely insulted, Bridget shoved her hands into Victor’s chest at the same time as she brought her knee up into his groin. She made contact with both, and her arm sang in relief as Victor’s grip dissolved, and he went to the floor with a grunt.
“Leave me alone, Victor.”
Bridget ran, throwing open the double doors of the dining room to escape. It was the first time she missed the flock of servants that ran the household, most of whom had been let go since Warren’s passing. Eva and Mona had refused to be dismissed, as did Mr. Conway and Farley. Everyone else, though, was gone.
Bridget fled toward the foyer, hoping she had enough time to make it up the stairs and lock herself in her quarters. Then pain screamed through her head as she felt her hair being clenched by a fist, and she was forced backward.
She screamed, dazed by the pain in her head and shoulders as she was slammed into a wall.
Victor’s panting breath filled her ears as he blocked her in, pinning her to the wall with his body. His eyes were wide and wild and filled with vengeance as he glared down at her.
“You will regret that, Bridget,” he panted. “My brother might not have taught you manners, but rest assured, I will.”
