Page 22 of Redemption for the Baron

“Agreed,” she said curtly, turning her attention back to Blackwood. “Lord Blackwood, you mentioned earlier your interest in shaping one’s own destiny.”

“Indeed,” he replied, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the tense exchange. “I find that taking action is preferable to waiting upon fate.”

“An interesting philosophy,” Grenville remarked. “Though fate has a way of intervening regardless of our intentions.”

“Only if we allow it,” Bridget snapped, her frustration spilling over. “Some of us prefer to forge our own paths without unwanted interference.”

Grenville’s gaze narrowed slightly. “A noble endeavor, but sometimes circumstances necessitate adaptation.”

“Adapting to circumstances is one thing,” she countered. “Uninvited meddling is quite another.”

Before the conversation could escalate further, Grenville let out a measured breath, his expression shifting. “Still, I’m pleased you’ve arrived safely.”

Blackwood chuckled, clearly sensing the tension between them. “A fortuitous arrival indeed, especially since you are seated beside one another.”

Bridget’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How… delightful.”

“It seems fate possesses a wry sense of humor,” Grenville remarked dryly.

“Or perhaps our hostess has a twisted sense of humor,” Bridget retorted.

Marjory appeared at Bridget’s side, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Is everyone ready for a splendid evening?”

“Absolutely,” Blackwood affirmed, offering his arm to Bridget. “Shall we?”

Before she could respond, Grenville stepped forward. “I believe, given the seating arrangements, the honor is mine.”

Bridget glanced between the two men, suppressing a sigh. “There’s no need for ceremony. I can find my seat just fine.”

“Nonsense,” Marjory interjected with a smile. “Tradition must be upheld.”

Resigned, Bridget accepted Grenville’s offered arm. The fabric of his coat was warm beneath her gloved fingers, his presence solid beside her.

As they moved toward the dining room, she held her back straight, determined to ignore the disconcerting nearness that threatened to stir her feelings.

Grenville tilted his head just enough to meet her gaze. “I assure you, Lady Bridget, I am merely adhering to propriety.”

She glared at him, her lips curving in a faint, almost reluctant smile. “Propriety,” she echoed dryly. “How commendable.”

Chapter Seven

Bridget’s stomach gavea small twist as she reached the table. She had not been assigned this seat. She was certain of it. Her place card had been beside Lord Davenport’s when she and Marjory were reviewing the dining room earlier. And yet, here it was, resting beside Captain Grenville’s as if it had always belonged there. Her eyes narrowed, just for a moment. Marjory. It had her mark all over it.

“Lady Bridget,” Grenville said, his voice low and precise as he pulled out her chair with deliberate care. “Allow me.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, sliding into her seat with practiced ease. He settled beside her, far too close for comfort, or perhaps too close for indifference. The scent of sandalwood lingered, frustratingly familiar. She focused on the polished gleam of the silver or the careful arrangement of the place setting, anything to avoid glancing his way. Around them, conversation rose and fell in gentle waves, but it might as well have been silence for how acutely aware she was ofhim.

The first course arrived, a parade of delicately arranged hors d’oeuvres and steaming bowls of consommé amid muted laughter. Guests, familiar with each other from many previous gatherings, conversed easily, their voices blending into a comfortable hum.

Yet Bridget’s attention was riveted on her plate, determined to suppress the unsettling emotions stirred by Grenville’s presence.

After a few measured bites, Grenville leaned forward, his eyes searching hers for any hint of uncertainty. “Are you familiar with the area, Lady Bridget?”

Her eyes stayed fixed on her meal as she replied curtly, “Not much. My visits to England have been… brief. Mostly to London.”

A soft smile played across his lips. “Perhaps tonight might tempt you to linger longer.”

Bridget’s green eyes flashed calm defiance as she met his gaze for a fraction of a second. “Highly improbable. I never found English company all that tempting.”

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