Page 4 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
Lady Bridget’s gaze snapped to her friend, and Anthony smothered a surge of frustration. Perhaps it was for the best that Lady Rose had distracted him, though. He had not felt such attraction for a young lady since Anastasia.
Those were the sorts of feelings that were best left pondered in the dead of night in his study, preferably with a decanter of brandy. Certainly, they were not the thoughts he ought to explore in the daylight and in the company of two young ladies.
“Indeed,” Anthony said. “But it is time that we depart, Lady Rose.”
Lady Rose embraced her friend, and Anthony noted how rosy Lady Bridget’s cheeks were. She blushed like a flower opening to the sun, a delicate wash of pink spreading across her milk-white skin. As Lady Rose climbed into the carriage, Anthony could not resist giving Lady Bridget a final, lingering smile.
“Until next time, my lady.”
Then he entered the carriage and seated himself across from Lady Rose and her lady’s maid, Francesca.
The carriage set off. Anthony hoped that no more gowns ended up being casualties of John’s driving. It really was not the man’s fault, though. Anthony had not taken residence in London in some time. It was forgivable that his driver might have forgotten how uneven some of the roads were.
“You must purchase her another dress quickly,” Lady Rose said. “With the coming Season, it will be difficult to find a modiste who is available if you do not make haste. Bridget must look exceptionally beautiful this Season.”
Anthony arched an eyebrow. Exceptionally beautiful? Lady Bridget was already exceptionally beautiful, even stained in mud with fury reddening her face.
“And why is this Season so special?” Anthony asked, feigning disinterest. “Has Lady Bridget decided to find a husband this year?”
Lady Rose glanced at Francesca, as if she suspected that her lady’s maid might reveal some secret. “She has resolved to find a love match,” Lady Rose said, “and I intend to ensure that happens this Season!”
“A love match, and you intend to ensure that it happens in a matter of months?” Anthony mused. “That is a lofty aim. It is my understanding that love seldom follows such a predictable course.”
He felt a sharp pang of loss in his chest when he said that. Anthony looked askance, carefully schooling his features into a mask of cold indifference. If Lady Rose noticed any distress, she would ask why he was so upset, and if he refused to provide a satisfactory answer, she would persist. People always did, especially in the ton. They expected to have every secret and could be utterly callous in their pursuit for knowledge.
Anastasia was his ghost and his alone. She was not something that needed to be unraveled or unburied by someone else.
“It will for Bridget,” Lady Rose said firmly.
Anthony remembered how he had trembled when he kissed her hand and the way her body had responded—her pulse jumping and her face reddening. She seemed receptive to a man, and certain parts of his long-neglected anatomy twitched at the memory of her.
“And why are you so certain?” he asked.
“Because she must!” Lady Rose exclaimed. “Yes, Bridget will find her love match this Season, and everything will be wonderful.”
Anthony stared at his dreamy-eyed ward, unsure what to make of such a wild declaration.
“And does Lady Bridget know that you have resolved to find her a love match this Season?” he asked. “You speak as if she does not.”
Lady Rose bit her lip and fidgeted with her skirts. “Well, she does not know yet, but that is because I have only just thought about this plan. I will tell her soon, and I believe she will think the idea is wonderful.”
“How do you intend on making this plan work?” Anthony asked, more confused by the moment.
It had been some time since he had enjoyed the company of the fairer sex, and both Lady Rose and her friend were at least a decade younger than he was. Perhaps he simply did not know how young ladies behaved anymore, but this plan seemed strange to him. Besides, it was not as if Lady Bridget was anywhere near spinsterdom; she had a few Seasons left, at least, until marriage would be a necessity.
“Details,” Lady Rose said, waving a dismissive hand.
Anthony knew that gesture meant that she did not have an answer. He was unsurprised to discover that Lady Rose did not have a real plan conceptualized. Love was not something that one could plan for; it was illogical and unpredictable, often refusing to follow neat and expected patterns. Somehow, that made it even stranger that Lady Rose had just taken it upon herself to find Lady Bridget’s love match that Season.
“Is there any particular reason your friend cannot find her own love match?” Anthony asked.
“Of course she can,” Lady Rose said, “but Bridget is… selfless. She always thinks of others before herself, so she may need some help in finding a suitable match.”
“I see.”
He did not really. Anthony wondered if he was becoming old. Having a young ward thrust upon him had certainly made him feel as though he had aged a few decades in the past year. Lady Rose was the sole reason he had returned to London.
As her guardian, it was Anthony’s duty to ensure she received a proper Season and invitations to all the lavish balls. He would be expected to help her find acceptable suitors and to ensure that her reputation remained intact. He remembered too well another young lady, many years before. Her guardian had been careless in his duty, and that young lady had found herself ensnared in an unhappy marriage.
