Page 16 of Redemption for the Baron

Bridget sighed, eyeing the flowers warily. “Lavender and hydrangeas, so we’re aiming for elegance with a hint of ‘don’t cross me’?”

Marjory laughed. “Precisely. Nothing says refined hospitality like flowers that could double as a warning.”

“Allow me to finish the arrangements for you,” Bridget offered. “I’ll come and get you when I’m done.”

“That would be a big help. Now that we have our final guest list, Mrs. Simmons and I can meet with Cook, finalize the menu and sleeping arrangements for the weekend. I want everything in place before our guests arrive today. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m in need of some activity.” Bridget took the basket from Mrs. Simmons. “You go ahead. I’ll have them all done by the time you return.”

*

Grenville rode upthe gravel path leading to Alastair Court, the estate as impressive as he remembered. It was hard to believe it had been five years since he’d been here. He dismounted and handed Valor’s reins to a waiting stable boy.

Alastair hurried down the steps, a knowing smirk in place. “Grenville! I was beginning to think you’d abandoned us altogether.”

Grenville shook his friend’s hand. “Not for lack of trying. The roads are conspiring against me.”

Alastair chuckled. “Some things never change. Come inside before my wife puts you straight to work.”

As they walked through the grand foyer, Alastair glanced at Grenville. “Brace yourself. Marjory has assembled quite the gathering, and I suspect you’ll be drawn into the intrigue before long.”

“I’ll do my best,” Grenville said dryly.

“Good man. Oh, and you must meet Marjory’s friend. She’s sharp-witted, fiercely independent. I suspect you’ll find her… intriguing.”

Grenville nodded politely, though his mind was already sifting through what little he had been told. A woman described assharp-witted and fiercely independentpiqued his curiosity more than he cared to admit.

The women he had encountered at such gatherings typically fell into predictable categories. They were charming yet conventional, or intelligent but bound by propriety. Few possessed both qualities with any real force. If Alastair saw fit to offer a warning, however lightly spoken, then perhaps Marjory’s friend was worth noting. He had met many intriguing people on his travels, but intrigue was not always a comfort.Still, something in Alastair’s tone lingered, half warning, half invitation, and Grenville found himself unexpectedly alert.

“I look forward to it.” He kept his tone carefully neutral.

“Now, go into the drawing room and pour yourself a drink. I’ll join you shortly.”

Chapter Five

Bridget added thelast of the hydrangeas and lavender to the arrangements. Lost in thought, she didn’t hear footsteps approaching. As she stepped back to admire her work, she collided with a solid figure.

“I beg your pardon,” she exclaimed, regaining her balance.

“No, the fault is mine entirely,” came a familiar voice.

Bridget looked up, her gaze locking onto a pair of striking blue eyes, ones she had tried and failed to forget.

“You?” they blurted out together.

Bridget’s fingers curled into her skirts. A scowl formed, not from irritation alone, though that was part of it. Recognition struck, clean and immediate. The man from the road. The Baron of Bother, in the very flesh.

She drew a slow breath and smothered the impulse to step back.No, she told herself.Not again.

“What unfortunate twist of fate brought you here?” she asked, her tone edged with irritation.

Grenville arched a brow and smiled… maddeningly slow, as if he savored her displeasure. “Perhaps fate determined you required further instruction in gracious acceptance.”

Bridget huffed, crossing her arms. “And you imagine yourself qualified for the task.”

His smirk deepened. He dipped his head in a manner just polite enough to vex her. “It appears our paths cross once more, Miss…”

“McConnell,” she said, her pulse still catching on recognition. She broadened her smile. “Lady McConnell.”

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