Beguiling Bridget (Waltzing with the Wallflower #2)(26)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

And unfortunately, from that same angle, Anthony looked very much aroused.

Lady Burnside screamed such a horrifying loud scream that Anthony prayed God would strike the woman with lightning, or perhaps just remove her voice box altogether.

“My lord!” Lady Burnside patted her chest with her gloved hand. “A footman? Really? Is this why your attentions towards me have been so, so…?”

“Indifferent,” Bridget piped in with a remarkably low voice that sounded extraordinarily like a boy’s.

“Exactly.” Lady Burnside’s eyes narrowed. “I knew it had naught to do with any deficiencies of my own.”

Anthony cleared his throat. “You see my interests lie elsewhere?” He shook his head even as he said it and fought the urge to step on Bridget’s foot. She was laughing so hard he could feel her tremble behind him.

“Yes, well… You may trust me to be discreet, as always.” Lady Burnside curtsied, picked up her dog, and scurried off, shaking her head and muttering to herself the whole way.

“Brilliant.” Anthony swore once she was out of earshot. “Now your aunt thinks I chase footmen in my spare time!”

“Thank you?” Bridget offered in a cheerful voice.

Anthony scowled and turned to face her.

Cheeks rosy and hair mussed, she looked like a forest nymph, and he found that his eyes could not focus on anything save her bee-stung lips and wild hair.

“You are most certainly welcome, my lady.”

“Bridget,” she reminded him.

“Bridget.”

Bridget looked down for a second before glancing back in his direction, a steely confident glint in her eyes.

“You win, my lord.”

“Pardon?”

Bridget laughed. “It’s apparent you truly haven’t heard those words as often as you claim. Let me say them again, for it might be the last time you hear them from my lips. You win.”

“What, pray tell, do I win?” He leaned in closer, taking in her alluring scent.

“The bet. You win. For the girl has fallen.”

“Fallen?”

Bridget leaned forward and lightly spoke against his lips. “In love. The girl has fallen in love… with you.”

In reverence, all Anthony could do, all he could say was, “Thank God.” And his lips captured hers in another life-altering kiss.

Chapter Thirteen

Settling the Score

The realization of what this might mean to her didn’t sink in until later that evening as Bridget readied for the ball. And as it did, she found herself a trifle confused.

On one hand, it was a completely new experience… being in love. She felt as though she could hardly keep her feet on the ground all afternoon. Her head swam with the fevered delirium Anthony’s touch provoked. His intoxicating kiss.

On the other hand, her life as she had known it would never be the same—could never be the same. Every married woman she knew was exactly alike. Content to gossip and play cards on occasion with their social circles. Spending endless evenings watching and judging others from their matronly sidelines at the ton’s events. Hiding their indiscretions from their likewise philandering husbands. She didn’t want that life. Not even a little of it.

And then there was the matter of her father. In her heart she had always believed all men were like him. That not one would remain faithful if presented with half a chance. The thought made her stomach churn, for her heart was already in too deep. It was the very reason she had struggled to resist Anthony. To protect her delicate sensibilities behind a hardened and cold stone wall. A wall she had been certain no man in the world would prove worthy enough to scale.

Now she was exposed and vulnerable… and at a loss as how to proceed.

Bridget feared betrayal. Not because she believed Anthony would wish to hurt her, but because she knew her fragile heart would never recover from his rejection.

It was too late. She knew that with surety as well. Her heart had chosen Anthony, with or without her mind’s consent. So what was left to do but close her eyes, leap, and hope he’d catch her?

It was time.

Time to stop fighting for control in a situation where there was none to be had. If Bridget was ever to be truly happy, she would have to play the odds.

As Tessa swept up her unruly red locks in the way only the lady’s maid could manage, a sharp knock sounded at the door, slicing through her silent preponderance. Before she could answer, Aunt Latissia opened it and bolted through, ringing her lace handkerchief and groaning in dramatic fashion. Back and forth she paced, casting sidelong glances at Bridget as she went.

Finally, Bridget could stand it no longer.

“Is there something amiss, Aunt?”

The answer was a mournful sigh. Aunt Latissia stopped as if to speak, then shook her head in despair and set back to pacing the room.

Bridget pushed Tessa’s hands away from her hair and rose from her place at the vanity table. She took a step closer to her aunt, cutting off her path.

“Aunt? You seem distressed. Has something happened?” Knowing her aunt as she did, Bridget was not overly concerned. Only trivial and meaningless things had the power to upset the woman, and then only if they inconvenienced her.

“Oh dear, dear, dear,” the woman chanted, still shaking her head and lamenting.

Bridget denied her sudden impulse to grab the woman by the shoulders and give her a firm shake.

“Oh, Bridget! I have dreadful news. Just dreadful!” Her eyes were darting here and there, seeming unable to come to rest on any one point.

“Aunt Latissia?” Bridget put her hand on the lady’s arm, bringing her flittering gaze into sharp focus on Bridget’s face.

“Oh, Bridget. Bridget. You should sit down, my dear.”

Bridget lifted an eyebrow in suspicion but sat down as she was told. Tessa promptly went back to dressing her hair.

Her aunt sashayed closer and reached out to touch Bridget’s cheek gingerly.

“Bridget, dear girl. I do have some dreadful news. Concerning your Lord Maddox, dear. I—” She dropped her hand and went back to wringing her lace handkerchief, allowing her gaze to wander again.

“Aunt Latissia, please. Just say it.”

“I caught the man in a secret tryst with — oh dear…” The older woman reached for the fan sitting on the vanity, opened it with a flick of her wrist, and proceeded to fan herself frantically. Finally she blurted, “A secret tryst with a footman! Here! Behind our very home!” Aunt Latissia closed the fan with a slap and threw her arms up in the air with an unladylike moan. “Can you believe it? Lord Maddox! No wonder he was so… unfriendly.”