Page 18 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
Perhaps Mr. Russell was not one of the ton, though.
“That is very good,” Bridget said.
“Indeed,” Anna replied, her expression brightening. “I hope he will come to call soon. I offered to show him my works, and he seemed intrigued by the prospect.”
“That is wonderful!”
Bridget tried not to think anything dour, but she thought about her soon-to-be arranged marriage to the Marquess of Thornton. If Mr. Russell was not a titled man, she must marry for the sake of her family. If Bridget did not, Anna would not have the freedom to marry this man. Sure, Anna had not said that she intended to marry Mr. Russell. But what if she found that she did wish to wed him?
What if Mr. Russell came to call and delighted in Anna’s company as much as she did his? A courtship might occur, and as the elder sister, it was Bridget’s duty to ensure that she didwhatever she could to preserve her family. If she married the Marquess of Thornton, that would enable Anna to be happy. It was better for one of them to be happy, surely.
Anna sighed happily, oblivious to her sister’s plight. “I should like to see his collection, too.”
Bridget nodded. She forced her attention once more to the pianoforte, letting the light notes sweep into the air. Bridget wondered if the duke enjoyed music and if so, what manner of it. If they pretended to court, she could surely ask, and he might sit across the drawing room and listen as she played.
She heard applause behind her and started, turning in her seat to see her father’s beaming face. Her heart sank. Bridget feared instinctively that this would be the moment where he revealed that secret meeting, and she would no longer be able to avoid her fate.
“Thank you, Father,” she said.
He smiled, but the friendly gesture did not reach his brown eyes, which were tight with anxiety. “I have come give you some excellent news. We have received a proposal for you, Bridget.”
“A proposal!” Anna exclaimed. “Why, the Season has just begun! You are faring well!”
Bridget forced down the lump that rose in her throat. “Who… who is the proposal from?” she asked.
“The Marquess of Thornton.”
Bridget exhaled softly, trying to steady her nerves. Although she had known precisely whose name her father would say, hearing him say it still made her feel unmoored, as though nothing were quite real at the moment.
Anna gasped. “And you refused, of course.”
Bridget glanced at her sister, whose face was utterly scandalized. “He did not refuse,” she said dully. “He agreed.”
“Indeed, I did,” her father said. “The marquess will be a suitable match for you, Bridget, and I would be very pleased for you to accept his proposal.”
“But he is so old!” Anna exclaimed. “Father, you jest! Surely, Bridget cannot marry a man such as that!”
Their father said nothing. He did not need to, for Bridget felt his eyes boring into her. Even if she did not wish to wed the Marquess of Thornton, she knew she must. It was for the good of her family.
“You must reconsider!” Anna continued. “Bridget, do you not agree?”
“I shall not,” their father said curtly. “Thornton has been my friend and business partner for many years. He is a good man who will be certain that Bridget has her every need met. This is not something to debate. Lord Thornton is an older man, but why should that matter? He can provide Bridget with what she needs.”
Anna folded her hands in her lap, looking abashed. Bridget let her fingertips rest on the pianoforte, not playing a single note.
“I expect that you will agree,” her father said. “That is your duty as my daughter, Bridget, and I know I have raised you to be a proper young lady.”
“So you have.”
Her throat felt so thick that Bridget feared that she might be strangled if she tried to speak too much or too quickly. “I understand, Father.”
She averted her gaze, unable to look at him any longer.
“I am pleased to hear it. Regrettably, it will be some time before Thornton may formally announce the engagement. Hewill be leaving London tomorrow on urgent business, and he will announce the arrangement upon his return. I thought it best to make you aware of it beforehand, so you may adjust to the idea.”
Bridget suspected her father wanted to give her time to bury her indignation and anger at his choice. He had likely expected her to react with the same disbelief that her sister had, and indeed, she might have if she had not already known about her father’s agreement. A shudder of repulsion traced a cold path down her spine.
“Of course,” she said.
