Page 28 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
Anna smiled in amusement. “Without a doubt. I suspect he would be equally upset if one of us purchased this painting. Perhaps that is our solution. One of us will buy this painting, and we shall both be disowned. You will not be forced to marry the Marquess of Thornton.”
“Assuming the artist would allow us to buy it,” Bridget said. “Can you imagine telling Lady Emily that we are interested in this piece? Can you imagine the artist selling something like these to the two unwed daughters of the Duke of Norfolk?”
Anna laughed. “I am rather enjoying the thought of our father’s face.”
Bridget nodded, but as comical as that image was, her thoughts kept wandering to the Duke of Hamilton. Her body ached for his touch and gaze, and she fought to keep her expression neutral. She knew Anna had no way of knowing what her thoughts were, but Bridget nevertheless felt a deep and creeping fear that her sister might irrationally guess what direction her thoughts had gone.
“Bridget!” Rose’s familiar voice swept through the crowd, bright and cheerful.
Bridget found her friend easily and fought down a small twinge of regret when she noted that Rose had abandoned her escort, the Duke of Hamilton. Nearly breathless, Rose halted beside Bridget and grinned.
“His Grace has agreed!” Rose exclaimed. “He has decided to pretend as though he is courting you to ward off the Marquess of Thornton’s advances!”
“What?” Anna asked, looking astonished.
“It is an absurd plan,” Bridget said.
“But surely our father would never refuse the will of a duke,” Anna said, her eyes shining. “Oh, this will be delightful!”
Bridget slowly nodded. She fought not to gaze at the painting of the two intertwined lovers. If she did not look at the painting, she might be able to keep her thoughts from wandering toward the duke and what he might look like in such a compromising situation.
“It is very timely, too,” Rose continued. “There is to be a garden tea party at Hamilton House in a few days. You should join us. It would also be a good time to remind the duke that he owes you two dresses now.”
Bridget laughed. Time did not seem to be of the essence, though. The modistes would doubtlessly be buried in commissions from the ton trying to purchase a few new coats or gowns for the Season. Even if His Grace went to the modiste the very next day, it would be likely weeks before the gown was completed.
“I will do so,” she said instead.
“Good,” Rose said. “Of course, Anna, you must also join us.”
“I would be delighted,” Anna said.
“Wonderful.” Rose grinned. “I shall see that the invitation arrives for you tomorrow.”
“Is Anna allowed to invite a guest?” Bridget asked. “There is a Mr. Russell whom I believe she would enjoy spending more time with.”
“Mr. Russell may already be on the list to receive an invitation, but I shall be certain to give him one if not,” Rose said.
Anna’s face reddened, and she looked askance. If Bridget was not mistaken, her sister’s eyes had darted toward the painting of the two lovers.
“That would be much appreciated,” Anna said, sounding embarrassed.
“Oh, what a marvelous Season it would be if we all managed to find love matches!” Rose exclaimed.
“I am not looking for a love match,” Bridget said. “I am only pretending to have one.”
“And men always want what other men have,” Rose said, grinning mischievously. “Once the gentlemen of the ton realize that you have gained the attention of the Duke of Hamilton, I imagine they will be quite eager to win your love themselves. It will be terribly romantic, like Helen of Troy.”
“Hopefully, no one dies,” Bridget said dryly.
“Like Queen Guinevere and Lancelot,” Rose amended.
Anna laughed. “That story also concluded with almost everyone dead.”
Rose shook her head, her expression one of mock frustration. “You both are being very contrary and for no good reason. You know what I mean. Mark my words. This will be a marvelous Season for all of us.”
If Bridget could free herself from the dreadful engagement with the Marquess of Thornton, while Anna and Rose found love matches for themselves, that would be a miraculous Season, indeed.
“We shall see,” she said.
