Page 29 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
In the meantime, she needed to ensure that she looked the part. If a lady wanted to be courted by a duke, she needed to look her best, and Bridget felt a sharp thrill of excitement in playing the role of the woman who had managed to charm His Grace. Even if their courtship meant nothing, Bridget still found herself delighting in the idea.
Chapter 14
Anthony stared at the glass of brandy, lost in thought. He had not expected to see Lady Hastings again after so many years. Lord Hastings had a reputation for being reclusive, and he seldom participated in the ton’s festivities during the Season. He was also not the manner of man who liked the thought of his wife attending social functions without him beside her, so Lady Hastings and Anthony seldom crossed paths. Seeing her again after so long was like a slap to the face.
He had wronged her, and he had not the faintest idea how to fix the situation. After so much time had passed, he was not even certain that it was worth the effort to fix the situation. Anthony ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to look instead at the ledgers for the dukedom. That was no better of a distraction, though, because when he thought of the dukedom, he thought of how he would someday need an heir to manage these same affairs. Then, he thought of Anastasia.
Sometimes, Lady Bridget, too.
Knuckles rapped on his door, and Anthony sighed. “You are beginning to make a dreadful habit of this, James. When do you intend to sleep?”
“When you do,” James replied. “That is when my services will not be needed, after all.”
Anthony hummed. “Well-reasoned. Have a drink with me. I find myself in need of a distraction.”
“Indeed?”
James seated himself across the desk while Anthony poured another glass of brandy from the crystal decanter. He offered it to his valet, who looked delighted to accept. Anthony supposed that some spirits might, at least, make the late night more tolerable for the man.
“I saw Lady Hastings at the art show.”
“Ah.”
James idly ran a finger around the rim of his glass. Anthony expected a sly remark, but James offered nothing. Instead, he looked uncharacteristically contemplative. That was a relief. There were few people who would understand Anthony’s situation and feelings involving Lady Hastings.
“How is she?” James asked, after a long pause.
“As well as you might expect. I did not see Lord Hastings, but I am certain that he was in attendance. He would not let his wife attend an event without him.”
Anthony grimaced. Lady Hastings did not deserve that. While it was a man’s right to tell his wife where she ought not to go, Anthony could not imagine ever insisting that the Duchess of Hamilton have his company to attend any function. It sounded like a miserable existence to him, and it was one that he had—if even inadvertently—doomed Lady Hastings to having.
“Do you blame yourself for her plight?”
“Do you believe that I ought to?”
“It is not my place to say, Your Grace.”
Anthony swirled the brandy in his glass and furrowed his brow. “I should have anticipated that you would say something like that. You are correct. It is not your place to say, but I would still like to hear your thoughts about it. You remember when I was involved with Lady Hastings.”
On a handful of occasions, James had even acted as chaperone when Anthony was with Lady Hastings, then Lady Abigail. James had been terribly negligent in his duty, but then, Anthony had also been unfair sometimes. He had dismissedmore than a few of James’s well-intentioned criticisms with a flippant, “Let me enjoy myself, won’t you?”
“You were a young man,” James said, seeming to choose his words delicately. “You made some errors, as all young men do, but you are not the one who forced Lady Hastings to marry that man. That was her father’s decision. He could have insisted on the young lady marrying you instead, and I do not imagine that your father would have protested such a decision.”
Anthony considered that. It was true, he supposed. Even as a young man, he had never understood why Lady Hastings’s father had insisted on wedding his young daughter to Lord Hastings. Anthony would have surely been the logical choice.
“I have always thought that he married Abigail to that man to punish her,” Anthony said, “or else because Lord Hastings offered something extravagant for her hand.”
“Neither of those would be your fault,” James said.
Anthony sighed. “I suppose that is true, but if I had not decided to have my dalliances with the lady, she would have never been faced with the consequences of my actions.”
“Of her actions, also.”
“She was young and naïve,” Anthony argued. “I took advantage of that.”
“I disagree,” James replied, taking a sip of his brandy. “Perhaps she did not know everything that you did about intimacy, but she knew the consequences of getting caught. She knew how much she had to lose.”
Anthony sighed. “I told her that I loved her.”
