Beguiling Bridget (Waltzing with the Wallflower #2)(15)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“Endure,” she repeated. “Definitely endure. I believe I’ll deserve a medal for having to deal with the sheer magnitude of your lordship’s ego for the remaining weeks.”

“And I shall be only too happy to secure it around your beautiful neck.” Anthony battled against his desire to touch her flushed skin once more. This was not going to be easy.

She didn’t answer him, merely raised her brow and curtsied as the dance ended, and it was just in time, for Wilde approached and asked a dance of the girl.

Anthony conceded, mainly because a man who didn’t know how to properly seduce a woman was not a threat. He watched as Wilde awkwardly took her hand, as if he was nervous. Anthony shook the thought from his head and approached his smug twin.

“I believe I’ve won,” Anthony announced.

“You cheated.”Ambrose cursed.

“I never cheat.”

“Says the cheater.”

“Speaking of cheating — have you seen your wife? She’s promised to show me how to best you at chess later this week.”

Ambrose cleared his throat. “Yes, well, she’s only won a handful of times. That doesn’t mean she’s better at anything…”

“Right.” Anthony patted his brother on the back, then reached for a flute of champagne as it passed. “So, her whereabouts?”

“Spying.”

Anthony spewed the contents of his mouth into the air, missing his brother by a mere inch. “So, she does your dirty work for you? I see how it is.”

Ambrose glared. “Merely trying to acquire more information for your benefit, brother, and she so graciously offered to help.”

“Probably wants to see me married off so I stop bothering you two.” Anthony picked up another flute of champagne.

He lifted it to his lips as Ambrose swore. “It’s just that you come at the most inappropriate times, just yesterday we barely had time to clothe—”

Anthony spewed the champagne again, this time spraying his brother well in the face. “Devil take it, Ambrose! I need not know the details! Besides,” he glanced over at the sound of Lady Bridget’s laughter in Wilde’s arms. “She’s as good as mine.”

“That confident, eh, Anthony?” Ambrose brooded, wiping the dripping champagne from his face with his handkerchief.

“Yes.” He downed the contents of his glass. “Yes, I am.”

Chapter Seven

So Goes the Battle

It would accomplish two tasks at once. And Bridget was nothing if not efficient. Yes, she agreed to help the viscount. But not for his sake.

Her benefits would far outweigh the drawbacks of spending time in the company of his acute arrogance. Her aunt and uncle would no longer find need to scrutinize her every move at a social event. More importantly, the viscount had vowed to keep his advances to himself. Bridget was assured she had nothing to fear from constant assaults on her resolve to keep her virtue intact. And heaven help her, it was disintegrating in leaps and bounds every time he touched her.

After the dance with Sir Wilde, Bridget made her way back to where her aunt sat in predatory anticipation of her next quarry. The woman’s gaze scoured the gentlemen, seeking out the weakest of the herd. It made Bridget’s stomach turn. And she was at a loss at how her aunt’s blatant disregard for propriety could go so unnoticed amongst the ton. And then there was poor Uncle Ernest, who was a kind but preoccupied man, completely oblivious to his wife’s indiscretions.

As she grew closer, Aunt Latissia regarded her with suspicion. “You’re very cozy with Viscount Maddox this evening.” Her rapacious glance back at Lord Maddox was hardly veiled. “Are you certain you wish to have your name linked with such as he?”

“Are you displeased, my lady? I was under the impression you believed him a worthy suitor. After all, you often seek his company, do you not?” Bridget said with a hint of irony. Aunt Latissia’s sharp look told her the point was not lost on her, but in that moment Uncle Ernest approached, cutting off the vicious scolding sure to come.

“Bridget. My lady,” he addressed them, kissing his wife’s proffered hand. “How do you find the dancing this evening?”

“It’s lovely, Uncle,” Bridget answered.

“I do believe our young charge has finally found someone worthy of her attention, my lord,” Latissia said with concealed bitterness.

“That’s wonderful, my dear! Who is our lucky young gentleman?” Uncle Ernest was fairly bursting with pleasure at the news.

Bridget knew that neither of her guardians was so concerned with her happiness as they were with regaining their freedom from the responsibility bestowed upon them in her behalf.

“Lord Maddox,” her aunt answered. “But I don’t know if that is a match I can approve—”

“Nonsense!” the earl interrupted. “It is an excellent match, and we shall do our part to encourage this courtship, my dear! You know his reputation and influence. We could do no better short of the royal family!”

“Of course, my lord. I thought only of our sweet niece’s delicate sensitivities when it comes to living under the scrutiny of the ton. And the viscount has a way of drawing attention as you know…”

Bridget knew her aunt’s objections had more to do with her futile hopes to seduce the viscount for herself and far less to do with any sense of what Bridget’s desires might be.

Her uncle shook his head resolutely. “This is an excellent match. And we will encourage it.” With that, he kissed his wife’s hand once again, bowed briefly to Bridget, and made his way to the gentleman’s lounge.

As he left them, Lady Burnside concealed her wrath under a thin veil of pleasantries. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Very well. Lord Maddox it is. Be sure to smile, my dear. Your usual glower will do nothing to entice his lordship to seek your hand.”

“Aunt, I don’t think—”

“Precisely. You don’t think. Now, you heard your uncle. We will encourage it. It is your job to secure a husband, my dear. Do not let your grandmother down.”

“Yes, Aunt.”

Lady Burnside stood quiet for a moment as if deep in thought before adding, “He will have to see your talents…” She considered another moment then waved an over-eager hand at Lord Maddox, who eyed them from across the room.

At her aunt’s invitation, he sauntered toward them with that air of self-assurance that bothered Bridget all the way to her toes.