Page 23 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
Mr. Russell did not seem to notice that they whispered about him. Anna took a few quick breaths, gathering her courage. Then she carefully guided Bridget toward the handsome Mr. Russell. Bridget cleared her throat, and the gentleman turned to look at them. His eyes lighted at once on Anna, and it was as if the sun had emerged from behind a storm cloud. The man gazed at Anna as if she were the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld.
“Lady Anna!” He bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you once again.”
She curtsied. “Likewise, Mr. Russell. May I introduce you to my sister Bridget?”
“Charmed,” Mr. Russell said. “Your sister has spoken very highly of you.”
“Has she?” Bridget asked.
“Indeed. I am told that your skill with a pianoforte is unparalleled,” Mr. Russell said.
If Anna had mentioned her, Bridget knew she must really find Mr. Russell to be something special. They had only met for a short period of time, too. Bridget wondered if perhaps her sister felt the same strange and powerful attraction to Mr. Russell that she did to the duke. The question felt too intimate to ask, though.
“My sister has also spoken highly of you, Mr. Russell,” Bridget said. “She says you are a gifted artist.”
“I would not say gifted,” Mr. Russell replied. “Certainly passionate. I am particularly fond of painting Greek myths, although I know that Lady Anna prefers landscape paintings. Did you know, my lady, that Lady Emily has an entire room of landscapes? I believe they are just around the corner. I would be delighted to show you them.”
Bridget hid a coy smile under the guise of fanning herself. It was quite obvious that Mr. Russell was equally besotted withAnna. “I am feeling a little warm,” she said. “I believe I shall sit for a while.”
Anna's brow furrowed. “Oh! Have you taken ill?”
“I am sure it is nothing,” Bridget said meaningfully. “You and Mr. Russell should enjoy the landscapes. I will join you later.”
A look of understanding crossed her sister’s face. “If you insist,” Anna said. “I would very much like to see them, Mr. Russell.”
He offered his arm, looking delighted at the prospect. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Bridget,” he said.
“Likewise.”
Bridget watched the two walk away with a strange knot in her chest. She was happy for Anna. Truly, she was. Love was so rare in the world, and her sister seemed to have found someone who she adored. Even better, he seemed to like her, too.
Bridget rubbed her forearms. Despite her insistence that she was warm, she felt as if ice had settled into her veins. She might never find a love match of her own, and she ought to be delighted that Anna had.
She ought not feel those bitter feelings of regret, but she could not help herself. When Lord Thornton returned, their engagement would be announced. They would be wed soon after. The best that Bridget could hope for was that she might be able to give herself a little more time, a little more freedom before the inevitable.
“I am surprised to find you unaccompanied, my lady.”
Bridget started. She had not heard the duke’s approach. He stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the painting before them.
Heat rushed to Bridget’s face, and her pulse jumped. She was alone with the Duke of Hamilton. Not entirely alone, of course. There were crowds of the ton walking about them and admiring the art, but she was speaking to him without Rose standing at her side.
“I see that you are, also.”
“I arrived with Lady Rose,” he said. “However, Lady Emily sought to show her a private collection, so I became unaccompanied.”
“Something similar happened to me. My sister left with Mr. Russell.”
“Oh.”
“I implied that they should,” Bridget said hurriedly. “I believe my sister finds Mr. Russell to be attractive, and I felt they deserved some time to converse together.”
“That is kind of you.”
“Thank you.”
The Duke of Hamilton hummed. “This is a rather sensual painting.”
Bridget had not noticed the painting that she stood by, and her face became even hotter when she looked at the piece of art. His Grace was right. She stood before a painting of two lovers, entirely nude, and wrapped in one another’s embrace. The painting was a study in contrasts, dark shadows and hot hues warring for dominance. Even the brushstrokes seemed to exude an aura of sensuality; they were smooth and quick, as though they had been painted in some flight of passion.
