Page 20 of Redemption for the Baron

“You appear most displeased, Lady Bridget,” Blackwood observed, his gaze shifting between her and Grenville. “I take it you know him?”

“Our paths have crossed,” Bridget replied tersely. She resisted the urge to fidget with her skirts, instead lifting her chin ever so slightly.

“A man of distinguished service,” Blackwood remarked. “Though perhaps a tad stern.”

“Is that what you English call arrogance?” she muttered, not bothering to mask the disdain in her voice.

Blackwood arched an amused brow. “Such conviction, Lady Bridget.”

She exhaled, her fingers tightening around her glass. “Experience is a cruel tutor. Particularly when one is confronted with a man who believes charm an adequate substitute for humility.”

“Ah, I forget your sentiments about our southern neighbors,” Blackwood said lightly. “Though not all Englishmen deserve such anger.”

“Don’t they?” Bridget retorted, finally tearing her eyes away from Grenville to look at him. “Tell me, Lord Blackwood,have you not seen the effects of their so-called progress? The Clearances have left scars that run deep.”

Blackwood’s expression remained unreadable. “I have, indeed. But time has a way of reshaping wounds into history. And history is often kinder to those who adapt.”

“Easy to say when it’s not your family being uprooted,” she replied, the bitterness evident in her tone.

He inclined his head. “Touché.”

Bridget stole another glance at Grenville. He had stepped aside with Lord Barrington near a table with crystal decanters. Their heads were inclined toward one another, the soft murmur of their conversation lost amidst the background chatter.

*

Lord Barrington handedGrenville a glass of claret, his gaze sweeping over the elegantly attired guests. “A proper evening of leisure. There are no pressing matters, no looming urgency. Refreshing, wouldn’t you agree?”

Grenville accepted the glass with a slight nod. “A rare indulgence, perhaps, but not unwelcome.”

He let the claret settle on his tongue a moment longer than necessary. “Though I confess, the token you sent didn’t suggest leisure.”

Barrington’s smile was mild. “No, I suppose it didn’t.” He took a sip of his own, adding after a heartbeat, “But your arrival was necessary all the same.”

Barrington swirled his wine, his expression laced with quiet amusement. “It occurs to me you may have forgotten how to enjoy an evening without purpose.”

Grenville huffed a quiet laugh. “I suppose old habits are difficult to break.”

Barrington followed his line of sight, his eyes settled briefly on Bridget, who was engaged in an animated discussion with Blackwood. “Lady Alastair has gathered quite the collection of personalities. Some more intriguing than others.”

Grenville took a measured sip of his wine. “Intriguing, indeed.”

Barrington arched a brow. “And yet your attention seems drawn to one in particular.”

Grenville raised an eyebrow in return. “Observant, as always.”

“Years of practice.” Barrington’s lips quirked. “Though I’d wager you’ve had little practice in dealing with a woman of Lady Bridget’s caliber.”

Grenville exhaled, tilting his glass slightly. “Our acquaintance is… complex.”

Barrington smirked knowingly. “Most worthwhile things are. Perhaps it’s time you considered challenges of a different nature.”

Grenville cast him a wry glance. “You sound perilously close to matchmaking, Barrington.”

“Perish the thought,” Barrington said, eyes twinkling. “Though I do believe the game is already afoot.”

The dinner bell rang.

“Come now,” Barrington said, gesturing toward the dining room. “Lady Alastair has gone to great lengths to arrange this evening, and I, for one, am eager to see how the players position themselves at the table.”

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